“I don’t want you to miss me,” she said. “You should live your own life, sweetie, and not be weighed down by me anymore, especially once I’m gone.”

My throat felt rough, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to live my own life. Even back in New York, she’d been my best friend—my only friend for the past four years. What did she expect me to do, pack up and move on?

“And I want you to fall in love and start your own family, one that’ll stick around a lot longer than I did.” She reached out to take my hand, squeezing it gently. “Find someone who’ll be good to you and never let him go, all right?”

I felt like I was drowning. “Mom,” I choked, “I don’t know how to do any of that.”

She smiled up at me sadly. “No one does, Kate, not at first. But you’re ready for this, I promise you. I did everything I could.” For a moment she trailed off and looked at our joined hands. “You are ready, and you will be great, sweetheart. You’re going to do the impossible, I can feel it, and even if you don’t think I’m there with you, I always will be. I’m never going to leave you—remember that, okay? Sometimes it might feel like I’m gone, but I’ll always be there when you need me the most.”

I wiped my eyes with my free hand, my grip on her tightening. Something inside of me was crumbling faster than I could glue it back together, and I didn’t know what to do anymore. I couldn’t imagine life without her in it, and I didn’t want to, either. But it was a reality I’d be facing far sooner than I was prepared for. I wanted her, my mother—not a memory.

“Promise me you’ll be yourself and do what makes you happy, no matter what,” she said, taking my hand in both of hers. “You’re meant for great things, sweetie, but the more you struggle against who you are, the harder it will be. Whatever obstacles you face, remember you can get through anything if you want to badly enough. And you will.” She smiled, and whatever was left standing inside of me broke. “You’re so much stronger than you think you are. Do you promise me you’ll try to be happy?”

I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know how to be happy without her, that I didn’t know who I was when she wasn’t there, and I wasn’t strong enough to do this, but her pleading look was too much for me to take. So I lied a second time.

“Okay,” I mumbled. “I promise.”

Her smile only made me feel guiltier. “Thank you,” she said. “It’ll be easier to go when I know you’ll be okay.”

I helped her to her feet, not trusting myself to speak. Leaving the uprooted weeds abandoned in the middle of the lawn, I brushed the dirt off her knees and half carried her into the house, wishing with all my might that she never had to go in the first place.

The next day, as the teacher droned on about conjugating irregular French verbs, the door to the classroom opened, and Irene from the front office stepped inside. Every head, including mine, turned to stare at her, but the only person she looked at was me.

Feeling as if my insides had turned to liquid, I stood, able to sense James and Ava’s stares burning into the back of my head. I stumbled across the length of the classroom, ignoring the whispers that followed.

“Kate,” said Irene in a gentle voice once we were in the hallway and the door to the classroom was closed firmly behind me. “Your mother’s nurse called.”

The walls spun around me, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. “Is she dead?”

“No,” said Irene, and relief flooded through me. “She’s in the hospital.”

Without another word, I turned around and ran down the hallway, class forgotten. The only thing I wanted was to get to the hospital before it really was goodbye.

“Kate?”

It was late in the afternoon, and I sat in the waiting room of the hospital, exhausted. I’d spent the past three hours alone and flipping through a stack of magazines without reading a word, waiting for the doctors to come tell me how she was.

“James!” I stood on wobbly legs and hugged him as if my life depended on it. It lasted longer than was strictly necessary, but I needed to feel his warm arms wrapped around me. It’d been a long time since I’d hugged someone who wasn’t frail. “My mother’s sick and they’re not telling me—”

“I know,” he said. “Irene told me.”

“What if this is it?” I said, burying my face in his chest. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to tell her I love her.”

“She knows,” he murmured, running his fingers through my hair. “I promise she knows.”

He spent the next few hours with me, only disappearing to get us something to eat, and he was next to me when the doctor finally came and told me what I’d feared: my mother had slipped into a coma, and it wouldn’t be long now.

James stayed by my side when I went in to see my mother, who looked so small and fragile lying in the middle of the hospital bed, her body connected to more machines and monitors than I could count. Her skin was ashen, and even if the doctor hadn’t told me, I knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. Mentally I went over everything that had happened the day before, hating myself more each time I thought about how I’d let her stay out and garden. Maybe if she hadn’t exerted herself like that, she’d still be hanging on.

Now, lying there inside that dying body, there was no sign of her. This wasn’t how I wanted to remember my mother, as a lifeless shell of who she’d once been, but I couldn’t let go.