While staring at the white ceiling tiles, I lay back further in my chair, boredom increasing, as I awaited the ringing of the school bell. Time goes by so slowly, that my eyes begin to close shut. Then all of a sudden, I hear the loud ring. I sit up straight and see the commotion of my classmates running out the door as it was the bell that told us that school is out for the year. I stand up and grab my backpack and walk out of my classroom. 

Among the noise of the crowded hall, the familiar voice of my best friend rose above the din, “Anna! Wait up!”

I turned my body around and saw Rachel rushing towards me. 

Huffing, and puffing, Rachel spits out, “Aren’t you heading down to Cape May tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think we leave early in the morning or something like that.”

“I was hoping we could hang out tonight, but I guess you’ll be busy packing.”

“Yeah, plus my dad and I have to pack all the medical equipment, so we can easily transport my mom to Cape May.”

“Oh yeah, I forget about all the medical stuff that’s involved when your mom decided to come home. So was it like her last request to go back to Cape May before you know…when her time comes?”
“Yeah…she um wanted to be there because it has some of her happiest memories and I think she just wants her passing to go easy you know.”

“No, yeah, I totally get that. Well if you need me or anything just let me know ok? I am one phone call away!” She gave me a comforting hug before turning back around, and heading off into the endless wave of students that swarmed the hallway. 

I walked away thinking about this summer, hoping that everything will go to plan. However, something deep down inside me disagreed, and my stomach started to feel nauseous and began to tie itself together into a million different knots. I took deep breaths to calm my stomach down, but I just knew that this would continue all throughout summer. 

I arrived home and I rushed into the house, so I could escape from the hot humid air and be engulfed by the AC instead. When I walked inside, I was met with a peanut buttery smell. It only meant one thing, someone had made chocolate chip bars with peanut butter! However, I went straight to moms room instead, so I could talk to her about my day. I softly knocked on the door and waited for a response.

“Come in”, my mother softly said.

I pushed open the door to my mom laying on her bed with two fuzzy blankets that covered her from head to toe. She is constantly cold no matter how many blankets cover her. Her bed always looked so comforting to me, even though it was a hospital bed and medical monitors surrounding it on both sides. 

How soon will it be before that bed is empty?

I sat down on the edge of the rock hard bed and looked at my mom. 

Ever since she was diagnosed with stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer 5 months ago, I have looked at my mom in a different view. I see the tiniest little details in her face that I never paid much attention to before. When she smiles, she has two dimples and when she scrunches her nose in confusion, I always count three wrinkles in between her eyebrows. She has four freckles, all on the right side of her face. Her eyes are always a radiant blue, regardless of how sick she is. When she sees me, she makes all the effort she can to sit up straight, to smile. But the disease is taking her. Such little movement drains her, and she gasps for air.  

I filled her in on my day, conscious of her need to rest.

“Cookie bars are in the kitchen. Our last day of school tradition lives on, but your father made them this year. Tell him they’re delicious,” she winked at me. 

My heart ached. Even in the pain she was in, she made sure our little traditions could live on.

“You need your rest, Mom. I’ll grab one and lie to Dad that they’re just as good as yours. Then I’m going to help pack up your medical equipment.”

“Oh, I forgot you had to help him with that. Thank you for helping him out sweetie, I know it’s not fun.”

“No, no, no it’s not a big deal, anything that I can do to help you to make your life a little easier makes my day better,” as I flashed a fake smile towards her making sure she couldn’t see the pain behind it. 

“You are the best, and I really mean it. You are so brave and strong considering the situation, and I couldn’t be prouder to say that you are my daughter. Now go and do your things, but I can’t wait for our drive tomorrow! Will be my first time out in a few days!”

I smiled at her as she said that, but it made me sad that she isn’t able to go outside as much. She always loved being outside and doing some type of gardening work. I never paid much attention to our gardens that wrapped around the whole house, but since she hasn’t been able to garden, I miss seeing the vibrant colors of the different flowers and the life they brought to the house. Now the gardens slowly dwindle each day, similar to my mothers withering body. 

“I’m going to go pack now, mom, I love you,” I said to my mom as I leaned over to give her a hug.

“Love you too, honey.” 

I left the room and went downstairs to grab a chocolate chip peanut butter bar. Once I grabbed one, I began to walk to my room, but my emotions started to overcome me. I felt hot tears coursing down my face, and I quickly rushed to my room before either of my parents caught me crying. I scurry to open the door and shut it quietly and curled into a ball on my bed and cried softly. 

The thought of packing one last time with my mother being alive hit me. I didn’t know what was happening to me, I usually handle these situations fine, but this time felt different. Maybe it was because I really knew that this was the last time and there was no hope to grasp on to. As the tears slowly stopped, I stood up and began to pack.

The next day rolled around, and I was so tired that I don’t even remember the morning fully, besides getting into the car. The drive from Woodbury, New Jersey to Cape May, New Jersey was only an hour and half and never felt long, but today it felt like an eternity. I sat in the back and stared out the window, as my mom snored, weakly. 

After a month or two of being diagnosed with cancer, she took many naps throughout the day, and it didn’t matter where she was, she could fall asleep instantly. I looked at the clock in the front of the car, and it read, 8:16 a.m. We left at seven in the morning, so we had to be only fifteen mins away. I looked outside the window and stared at the endless blueberry farms. I’ve always wanted to go blueberry picking with my mom, but it was too late now.  

The fifteen minutes passed by quickly, when my father spoke up,

“We’ve arrived.”

I looked up from my phone and saw the familiar bridge to cross over to the island of Cape May. I rolled down the window and smelled the salty air from the ocean. My favorite smell in the whole wide world. The salty air always made me feel relaxed, but lately not much can relax me, even now. I looked over to my mom doing the same thing and I started to laugh. My mom began to laugh too, and then my dad. We all laughed until we arrived at the house. 

Our house sat right on the bay, and it was a light teal green house with two levels, so you could see the sunset every night. My parents designed the house themselves, and my moms wish was to pass away here, close to the ocean she loved so much. It made me happy that she wanted to be here, when her final hours came, but this place will become dark to me, because every time I come now, I will know this is where she died. 

A place that once brought happiness would soon bring sadness. I moved past the thought and helped my dad unload.

When we finished unloading, I rushed to the garage, grabbed my bike and headed towards the beach. My parents never questioned what I did on the island, so me just grabbing the bike and leaving unexpectedly was normal. The beach was about a mile from our house, but I always take the long route, so I can see the majority of the island. I loved seeing all the different beach houses and how each one was designed differently. Some were a light navy, while others were pastel pinks, yellows and greens.  My favorite part of my ride is biking down the main street of Cape May. I love seeing all the local shops and restaurants and picking out what restaurant I will be eating at for the day. 

Eventually I made it to the beach. I leaned my bike against a fence and hoped no one would steal it. I ran across the small boardwalk that would enter out onto the beach. When the boardwalk ended, my feet sank into the soft sand as I sprinted towards the ocean. I came to the edge of the water and sat down. I stared out into the horizon and watched waves crash onto the sand. The odd quietness of waves crashing, seagulls squawking brought peace to me, yet something inside of me felt unsettled. Maybe it was due to the quietness that would soon become normal in my life.

“Why does everything remind me of her, UGH,” I said out loud to myself as I threw a seashell into the ocean.

When we were told that she had stage four cancer, and it was terminal, I felt like throwing up. I had just been told that my best friend was going to die and there was nothing that I could do about it. I didn’t understand why it had to be her. She was the kindest, sweetest person to exist on this planet, and yet she was given this awful illness that would eventually kill her. 

The first few days I cried endless tears and never came in contact with my mom. In the days I didn’t see her, I longed for my mother, but I couldn’t bear to look at her and know that she would be taken away from me and never be there anymore. However, in those first few days, I realized that I shouldn’t grieve for my mom, who isn’t even dead yet, but instead cherish every moment with her and make her death as comforting as possible. I made a mental note to myself to spend as much time with her, act like every moment with her was my last, always remember the positives of her and to be laying in her arms when she took her last and final breath. Even though I made these commitments to myself, it has been so hard to handle. I struggle to look at her and smile without breaking down in tears, or when she talks about her day to me, a wave of sadness crushes me.

I laid back on the sand and let out a big sigh, after thinking about everything. Once again I felt unsettled in my stomach, so I sat up to make it go away.

 It didn’t go away. 

I’m tired of this feeling, because it always feels like I’m going to regret something. Maybe it’s because I’m scared I won't follow through with my mental notes, I thought to myself. 

“No, no, no, I will follow through. I promise to follow them and be by her side when she lets out her last breath. There is no way I won’t be by her side when she dies,” I said to myself, trying to fight back the intrusive thoughts. 

Looking out into the ocean, I whispered, “I promise mom that I will be by your side and when we cremate you, I will spread your ashes across this ocean. You will finally be at home and when I look out I will know you are there, and you will know I am right here.”

I stood up and brushed the sand off my shorts and tank top and headed back to my bike. I have no clue where I’m going; maybe I’ll just ride my bike for endless hours to forget about everything for a bit, before heading back home, I thought to myself.

I tried to enjoy the rest of the day, but thinking about what I experienced earlier that morning hung over me, like a rain cloud that wouldn’t go away. When dinner time rolled around, I put a mask of happiness on and did my best to enjoy my time with my mom and not bring down her joy. We played cards, until my mom couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and before I knew it, she was slumped in her chair fast asleep. When my dad noticed she was asleep, he came over, picked her up as if she was a feather and carried her to their room. 

How much does she weigh? I thought to myself.

My dad lifted weights every other day, but for him to pick her up like she was a feather…god, she has lost so much weight. Her appearance looked fine to me, for someone who has terminal cancer, but maybe I’m just so used to her skeletal frame that it’s normal. I thought again to myself.

My stomach started to feel sick, and I ran up the stairs, past my dad.

“Woah, are you ok, Anna?” my dad yelled out to me.

“My stomach feels upset, I think I ate something, and it’s not agreeing with me,” I quickly spit out my words as I felt vomit crawling up my throat. 

“Oh! Just holler at me if you need anything, ok?”

I nodded my head towards him, as I swung the bathroom door open and reached for the toilet. I barely made it in time, before it all came out. When it was all out, I felt the acid in the back of my throat stinging me. I closed the door that was sadly still open, and sat my back against the door. I let out a big sigh and stared at the wall across from me. How am I going to survive this summer, if every little thing wrong with my mom is going to make me feel sick and depressed? 

Journal entry three: Mom’s condition has gotten worse since the first day we arrived. The color in her face has drained and instead of the warm peachy skin color, it was now a pallor skin tone. She has begun to eat less and her energy for the day has been dwindling. I’ve been keeping it together well, for the most part. I have moments where I break down, but I pull it back together quickly and put that mask of happiness back on; before either of my parents realize I have been faking it this whole time. Right now, my only goal for this summer is to be by her side. I really don’t care if I’m actually sad most of the time or putting on a fake show of happiness for her. I’ve noticed that being by her side has made her mood seem really radiant, and that’s all that matters at this moment in time.

I closed my journal and thought about what I would do for the day. Lately I have spent most of my time at the house, instead of going out around the island like I normally do. Occasionally, I will go out for a bike ride and get some ice cream, and eat it on a bench, but it’s not for a long time. The friends I hang out with during the summer at Cape May, I have barely seen, and maybe they think I hate them, but I don’t. I am too afraid to leave the house for a long period of time, because I don’t know if my mom will die when I’m not there. I stay cooped up in the house and act “normal”. Even when I want to leave the house, my body doesn’t let me; every muscle in my body screams at me to stay seated and continue to do nothing. 

Journal entry fourteen: I didn’t think things could go downhill so fast; I thought that was only for the movies. Mom is paler than she has ever been, she is now skin and bones, not an ounce of muscle left on her. I… I… don’t even think she’s real anymore. When I touch her skin, it’s cool to the touch, and the color in her lips began to drain a little bit each day. Her eyes are still the radiant blue, but there is no more sparkle to them. They stare out into space, not comprehending what is going on.

She looks like a ghost.

The pen was shaking in my hand as I wrote the last line. I didn’t realize I was crying until the first tear hit the page of my journal. I was too caught up in the emotions I was trying to lay out on the thin white, crispy paper. Journaling has always helped me get me through tough times, and sometimes I just love to write short little blurbs of random things. 

When I was younger, I wanted to write so bad that my mom and I pretended to be pen pals who lived across the world. She would pretend she was someone from Melbourne, Australia while I was someone from Anchorage, Alaska. We would write silly little letters to each other and tell about all the grand adventures we would go on. It was a highlight of my childhood and something that I have never forgotten.  

So I thought writing would help with the pain I have been feeling. That it would remind me of the good old times I had with my mom, since I knew she would die this summer, but it’s coming quicker than I expected. My dad and I both thought it would be late August, but it’s still only the beginning of summer, and things are not looking good. 

I don’t feel prepared for the moment she takes that last and final breath. Maybe if it was late August, I would feel more prepared, because that’s when I was expecting it, but…but…but it’s not late August. I don’t know if I can do it, I don’t know if I can be by her side. She’s not supposed to die yet, sh… she… she’s supposed to die in August, not now. The thought came rushing to my mind and I began to hyperventilate. I gripped the armrest of my chair, paralyzed in fear, unable to calm down. I heard a soft knock on my door and knew that it had to be my dad. Somehow, my breathing slowed down, and I felt like I could breathe normal again. I wiped away the tears with the sleeves of my teal sweatshirt, before I walked over to the door. 

When I opened the door, my father was standing in front of me, but something was off. He didn’t look like his normal self with his cheerful smile, instead he had a look of despair. He tried to talk, but nothing came out.

“Dad what’s wrong?” 

“Um… I think… I think today is the day. She looks worse compared to yesterday, and her breathing is becoming staggered by each hour. I really think it’s going to be today. So we should be by her side and help her feel comfortable for when her time comes.”

I stared at him in disbelief of the words he just told me. My mouth quivering

“No, no, no, no. It’s not supposed to be today, dad! I… I’m not ready t… to… to let her go. Dad, it can't be today…IT CAN’T BE TODAY!” I blurted out all once, leaning against the door fame that led to my room.

“I know, I know honey, I know. I’m not ready either,” my father responded with a quaky voice as he reached out to hug me.

Instead of letting his arms wrap around me and hold me tight, I pushed him back and ran. I ran for the garage, grabbed my bike, and left like there was no tomorrow. I zoomed down the street, and I heard my dad yelling my name from afar, but I ignored him and kept riding.

Hours had passed since I left home. I went to the north end of the island, where most people don’t go, but it was my spot. I was glad no one comes down to this end of the island, because I had been ugly crying for hours. My eyes felt puffy and raw, and my lungs hurt as if I had just run a marathon. I looked at the ocean, before deciding to head back home. 

She’s not dead, she’s not dead, she’s not dead, she's not dead. I repeated to myself on my bike ride home.

I leaned my bike against the garage and I entered through the front door; I walked up the stairs and took slow steps to my mother's room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear faint weeping sounds. I pushed open the door slightly and there was my dad bent over, his face buried in his hands, crying endless tears. My dad raised his head to look at me and without even saying a word, I already knew what happened. I pushed the door the rest of the way open and there was my mom, white as ever, the boniest she had looked and yet somehow looked peaceful. But she had taken her final breath, and I wasn’t there to listen to that last shaking inhale. 

I dropped to my knees and began to bawl. My dad swiftly sat next to me and cradled me while I cried into his chest. We sat there together in the silence of the room and stayed like that for minutes.

“I failed, dad, I failed. The one thing that I wanted to do before she died, was lay next to her when she took her final breath. I wanted her to know that I was there and that I loved her so much,” I mumbled to my dad.

“Oh, honey,” my dad replied as he stroked my golden blonde hair, “even if you were here or not, your mother knew how much you loved her. You were the last thought on her mind, when she took her last breath she told me to tell you that she loved you to infinity and beyond and to never stop being who you are, because you are amazing.”

I cried even harder into his chest, and even though what he told me was comforting, I still didn’t feel good about myself. I regretted not being by her side, and I knew that I would never ever forgive myself for it. 

My dad pushed me back gently and looked into my watery eyes and spoke, “Anna, your mother wanted me to give you a letter she wrote before she died. I don’t know when she wanted me to give it to you, but I think now is a good time.”

He got up and walked over to the drawer that stood next to mom’s bed and opened it. He pulled out the thin letter and handed it to me. The paper felt so thin I thought I would ruin its delicacy. I opened up the perfectly folded paper and began to read.

My Lovely Anna,

This journey has not been easy, and I know it has been so hard on you and your father. I hate that cancer is taking me. A mother is supposed to protect her child, but this disease has caused you so much pain, and I’m powerless to stop it. 

When I read your last entry, my heart broke. You have been incredible and so so so strong throughout this whole entire process. What this has taught me above all else is to value the life we are given. I’ve never doubted that you love me. It brought me joy to see you keep living. Your life is full, just as it should be. 

I know you wanted to be beside me as I took my last breath. Perhaps you were. I hope that you felt some moment of comfort, even in the pain. But if you weren’t, please know how happy that makes me. It means you were living your life, my sweet Anna. And that’s what I cherish most. You were living life to the fullest.

I know losing a mother is very difficult, but you have been so brave, and that is something that I love about you. You are one of the bravest people, I know, and I wish I could have been like you when I was your age.

When I learned that this cancer was terminal, I cried immediately, but it wasn’t for me, it was for you. I thought, who would help her through life when I’m not by her side? Who would teach her the crucial life lessons? I am so sorry Anna that you have to do life on your own and only have your father to help you and not have me alongside him. But I know you will persevere, as you always have. 

Remember, Anna, live life to the fullest because you don’t know when it will be your last day. Always cherish each moment you experience in life and hold onto it for an eternity. Life is full of ups and downs, but as long as you make the most of it, there will be more ups than downs. 

This is goodbye, for now, in the meantime remember me in the sunsets setting over the ocean. 

I Love You,

My Sweet Anna Banana

As my hands trembled and tears rolled down my cheeks, I thought about all the times my mother was right. All the times I didn’t accept that she was right. Forgiveness, I suspect, is one of those things. Even though I couldn’t fully accept it yet, I knew in my heart that my mother’s words were true. Healing, like forgiveness, takes time. 

I smeared away the tears and I tucked the letter into my pocket. I looked at my dad and we both knew that we needed to say our final goodbyes. So we headed to the beach, just like all those times she and I had walked side by side. My father and I held hands as we watched the golden sun set above the teal colored ocean. The sun setting was my mother's final goodbye to us, and I knew when the sun rose again it would be her watching over me.