A Mother Who Had Waited Long Enough
Chapter 10 - A Mother Who Had Waited Long Enough
Mom's chest pain began on a Tuesday morning. She tried to dismiss it as indigestion, but I insisted we call emergency services. At the hospital, doctors evaluated her and kept her under observation. She was alert, annoyed about the fuss, and more frightened than she wanted to admit.
"I'm supposed to be the one looking after you," she said as I adjusted her blanket.
"You've had the job for thirty-one years. You're allowed a day off."
She smiled weakly.
While we waited for test results, she confessed that she had been scared since Dad died. Not just of sickness, but of becoming a burden, losing the conservatory, and watching me place my future on hold to protect hers.
"I didn't stop the wedding because I disliked Daniel," she said. "I stopped pretending everything was fine because I saw you disappear inside that room. You were frightened to ask a simple question at your own reception."
I lowered my eyes. "I wanted him to love me."
"He should've loved the woman who asked questions."
The truth hurt because it was simple.
Her tests ruled out an immediate cardiac emergency, though she needed follow-up appointments and better rest. I took her home, made soup, and canceled two of the conservatory's weekend events. The choir director offered to organize volunteers to help reset the space.
Mom watched from the sofa as parents arrived carrying folding chairs and homemade sandwiches.
"They don't owe us anything," she whispered.
"They like having somewhere to sing."
She wiped her eyes. "Your father would be proud."
I looked through the window at the sun glinting on the glass ceiling.
"I hope so."
May you like
Later that night, Mom handed me Dad's old key ring. "You don't need to prove you're keeping his memory alive by exhausting yourself," she said. "Let the place become a place again."
I slipped the keys into my pocket. It felt less like accepting an inheritance than accepting permission to begin.
