My mom and I, we have not always had a good relationship. I’ve hated her a few times. When I was five and she didn’t want to buy me a Barbie, I disowned her as a mother. When I hit ten and she didn’t buy me my cherry lip-gloss, I vowed to hate her for the rest of my life. When I had my first boyfriend at thirteen, she never let me go out with him. I told myself I would move out of the house as soon as I could. I now realize that the decisions she made on these actions were for my own good, and have made me understand how much I have always truly loved her. And so, I believe I will see my mom in the morning.
My mom has not had an easy life. Ever since I was born, she’s had to battle all types of sicknesses and problems with her health. She has a very weak immune system that even the smallest thing, like a simple cold, can end up taking her to the emergency room. But, my mom is strong. She has hope. I have none. I wish I were as strong as she is. But I am scared. I am scared that she will die. Even the thought of my mom dying makes me quiver and shake. But, I believe that I will see my mom in the morning. Unfortunately, in these past years, her health has gotten worse.
She’s been in bed, constantly. She’s been at the hospital, constantly. She misses weeks of work, constantly. She takes a pill every hour of the day, constantly. She is very weak, always. She is sad, always. She is in pain, always. But I believe I will see my mom tomorrow morning.
She once told me, at the hospital, that she could feel her feet lifting up from the ground, and she could hear someone whispering her name. She thought she was going to die. And, she was not afraid. She has told me that when she dies, I should not cry. I should not be sad. Because she will always be with me.
I do not believe this. I believe I will see my mom tomorrow morning. She may be better, she may be worse, she may be sick, she may be in pain, she may be crying, she may be wishing to die, but I believe—I have to believe—that I will see my mom tomorrow morning.
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