When my friend Connie, name has been changed, saw my mother leaving in an ambulance, little did I know that would be the last time I would see her. While I was at school, I anticipated coming home to protect my mother. She was very ill the night before. She was talking gibberish with my grandmother in the room. She was talking about books that could not found. I tried covering for her because I knew if my grandmother heard she would send my mother straight to the hospital. But my grandmother knew exactly what was happening.
When I approached the apartment my mother was already on the stretcher and on the way out. I screamed and cried. It hurt so badly to see her go and for some reason I knew this was the last time I would see her. A few days later I went to the hospital for a visit. It was a Sunday afternoon and instead of an outing for brunch my family and I were out to see a very ill woman. I say ill woman because she was not the person I once knew. She was so weak. I couldn’t see the difference between her body and the bed. She looked so much worse than I remember her. She gave me one look over and had no idea who I was. I began to cry. How did my own mother not know who I was? I was her daughter, “I’m your daughter!” I wanted to shout. Nurse Molly sent me out of the room. Since the first day my mother found out her diagnosis, Molly had attended her. She was a friend and I trusted her to tell me the truth. She offered to get me some ice cream from a local shop. We talked about my mother and how she was very ill and her memory was slowly deteriorating. She told me what to expect and if I was prepared for my mother's death. My mother had already spoken to me about her leaving me and not being around. She already told me to be a big girl and to make her proud.
Back at the hospital, Molly brought me into the room. This time my mom was ecstatic to see me. She called me by my nickname, tuti. I was so happy that she remembered me. It made that visit that much better.
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