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“Hey, how is she?” Yelena asked softly upon entering your room. The room was stale with the smell of imminent death, though a sweet and crisp scent of figs fills the air, all thanks to your Mama. You always liked smelling her.
“She’s slipping in and out,” Natasha informed her sister. Her eyes were dark from the lack of sleep over the past two weeks as both she and Wanda rushed to cherish every last moment with you.
The blonde looked at the hospital bed and spotted a weak figure under two layers of flannel blankets– your favorite ones from home so that the mattress you were on would feel less like a deathbed. Your beanie was covering your bald head, almost up to the bump where your eyebrows used to be and your lips were full, a sign that you were well loved and cared for even in your current state.
Yelena crossed the room and sat next to her sister on the sofa opposite your bed. “How much longer?"
Natasha looked at her tiredly, putting her hand around her wife who was sleeping beside her. "Not long enough,” she whimpered, looking out the window as fat rain droplets raced down the glass. The gray in the sky was dull and the clouds were too heavy. The morning started with a light drizzle, but by midday, a darker patch settled comfortably above the hospital building and it had been storming since.
From her brown satchel, Yelena pulled out a stack of neat envelopes. “You should wake her up to read this,” She gestured to the sleeping brunette, “She would have wanted you to read it together."
"What’s this?” your Mom asked cautiously, taking the letters in hand. Her finger traced along the dark ink on the paper. Upon closer inspection, one might notice tear stains and ink smudges, but to your Mom, they were perfect.
“Her goodbyes."
The Widow shook her wife gently to wake her up. Wanda’s sense of peacefulness was jolted by the rudeness of reality as she snapped her head to stare, not towards Natasha, but at your body in the bed. She was relieved to see the small rise and fall of your chest underneath all those blankets.
This wasn’t the first time she had been in a position like this, though she knew that it would be her last.
She slowly turned towards Natasha, eyes teary and chin all wobbly once again. Natasha sighed at the sight of that, almost on the edge of regretting her decision to wake her distraught wife up. But she had to read this with her. It was what you would have wanted. Gently, she guided her wife’s chin to her shoulders and a sigh overcame the younger woman.
Pensively, the Widow took out the first letter amongst a dozen and flipped it open to reveal neat penmanship, the way she had taught you to write since you were old enough to learn cursive.
Slowly and steadily, your mom’s distinct husked voice began to read but it was the memory of you that filled the room.
Dear Mom and Mama,
This is the first of a series of letters I am writing to you both. They are important to me, so please take some time to read them when Auntie Yelena finally passes them on to you.
If you are reading this, perhaps I am in my last days or have departed from your lives. Despite the morbidity of that, it brings me great joy and peace to know that you may encounter me for a final time through these letters when I no longer possess the ability to do so.
About a month ago, I turned 18 years old and we had the best birthday party before I headed off to college. I moved into my new college dorm only to be sent back a week later. Truth be told, even at my birthday, I had already known in my bones that the cancer was back. I was just selfish for wanting to have a normal 18th birthday and a mundane college move-in. Anything to prolong what little normalcy I have left.
Hence, please forgive me for not talking about the shooting pains in my back or that monster headache resting in my skull. I know it will pain you both to realize that I had known this for far longer before I complained of any symptoms. And I know Mama will say, "You shouldn’t suffer in silence.”
But Moms, I do not suffer in silence. In fact, I am drenched in love and I do not regret my decision to go to the doctors later.
After days of tests and scans, today makes it official. Today is the day that we receive the news that my cancer is back and that it has metastasized to the rest of my body. I know this news comes hard on you Mom, and even harder on you Mama. As I write this on the hospital bed, I see Mama crying outside with Auntie Christine. And Mom, you have fallen asleep, uncomfortably curled up in the hospital arm chair. The air is filled with grief but what is grief, really, if not love persevering?
Uncle Stephen wants to start me on chemo again but without it, he estimates I have 6 months to a year left. We won’t be sure until the follow up scan in a week. Though I have a sense that I may have gotten the shorter end of the stick this time.
Nonetheless, I start these letters in hopes that they may bring me comfort, and eventually help you come to accept my last days too.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
I’ve started and ended my first cycle of chemo and radiation. Uncle Stephens says, with the aggressiveness of my cancer, it may take me up to twelve rounds before I am in the clear. That means twelve months of this. It is a dreadful feeling of an ugly life ahead. I still have all my hair but I know that won’t be a fact in the next two to four weeks as they fall out in clumps.
But Mom, you tie my strands up for me anyway even though you are crying. A single dutch braid that you love.
I know that Mama has quit her job as an Avenger so she can shuttle me around to all my chemo, PT, OT appointments upstate and I can tell that the both of you are trying everything to prolong my days here. Sometimes I do wish that you would make these decisions with me. Afterall, this isn’t me when I was 8 and stricken with cancer. I am 18 years old now. I am a college student, Moms. I do wish you would recognize that.
When I steal glances at Mama during our silent car rides and see her face only etched in worry, it makes me ask myself if things would have been better if I hadn’t gone to the doctors. I am starting to feel nauseous at even the lightest scent of food and I know that what comes in a week will just be vomit, vomit, and more vomit.
My entire body aches, Moms. It really does hurt so badly. But I am going to try to get better so that these letters won’t get to you. I hope that the drugs work.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
I am on my second cycle of treatment. Uncle Stephen says that my cancer hasn’t spread more than it has, which he takes as a win. Although between all the vomiting, hair fall and missed school, I was hoping to have even better news.
Sleep escapes me these days. I am not sure why but I think I am worried. Somedays, I find Mom in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee at an ungodly hour in the morning. Now that I am reflecting on it, that does seem kind of bad for your health, Mom. Please do stop drinking coffee at midnight. This is one of my dying wishes so I suppose that would blackmail you into listening.
On the days that I do dream, I find myself remembering tender minutes of my childhood with the both of you. I often see my younger self walking alongside the both of you. Or maybe I imagine it. But I see her along roads, long yards and inside big houses. The silence is steadfast and I see her. I remember myself in a time before cancer. She is much more athletic than me, especially since I do less sports than I used to do. So when she’s on the swings, she can push herself much higher than I do, soaring up near the height of the beam the swings are hanging from. She turns and grins at me every few swings and I can barely suppress a tiny smile as I watch her. I see the both of you. Mama on the park bench with her book while Mom stood closer to her, a joy on her lips. Those were really good and real times that I think of to get me through my day.
I hope that when you dream of me, that you will dream of a time like that too. One not filled with grief, sorrow or pain. Because a time like this existed, Moms. It is important for you to remember that too.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
Our garden is average. It is supposed to be peppers, tomatoes, magnolias and daisies amongst other things but mostly it is just a patch of green right now. You would know that I have been sowing seeds that grow into flower buds which do not seem to quite bloom and do not seem to quite wilt.
My new gardening hobby with Mama feels like a metaphor to my life where I am not quite blooming nor quite wilting, simply existing. I hope that by the time you read this, the seeds I’ve sowed will have bloomed. May they remind you both of me.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
Today we were back for my third cycle when Uncle Stephen brought in another doctor. This never bodes any good news. Indeed, we received news that wasn’t great. Mama didn’t take it so well and I can hear her crying in the room next door as I write this. And Mom, I’m not sure where you are.
The doctor says that my tumor has still managed to grow in size despite the treatment. It is a big blow for me too as I thought I was trying my best at getting better. And I had hoped that with my energy coming back a littler that perhaps I was already working towards remission once again. More than ever, I wish for your presence right now in this room.
I keep feeling like I’m losing time. Like I am losing myself– bit by bit. I am afraid that I will wake up one day and there will be none of me left. I am scared, Moms. I wish you would hold me between you both tonight. But I know you are struggling. I am sorry for being scared. I didn’t expect dying to be such an isolating experience.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
This week has been especially difficult as I find myself becoming more and more aware of the lack of time that I have. My mind is still going strong but I find myself struggling even with the simplest of activities like typing on the computer or spinning my pen.
Today, I finally found my shoulders quake embarrassingly with a breakdown I never knew I still had in me. Mama was quick on her feet and had me wrapped in her arms in no time as the tears seeped through her white blouse, making it sheer. She smelled the same, half of vanilla and half of figs, between her chosen shampoo and her signature perfume. I cried silently, mouth contorting as though someone stabbed me with a thousand daggers and took my voice so I couldn’t shout. I had wished that the moment wouldn’t end but it ends anyway. Nothing is enough these days.
When I finally halted my sobs which had reduced to hiccups, my limbs all akimbo, we all went into the bed you both shared and Mom, you still managed to draw comforting circles on my back, exactly how I remembered them. I am eighteen but I still very much feel like a child between the both of you. I am going to miss that when I am gone. I am afraid to grow up. I wish you would know.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
More and more, I find myself occupied with heavy thoughts.
Do you ever hate yourself? I do. Often. Quite often. Very often. I think it takes some time to learn to like yourself but time is the one thing I lack in this world. I’ve been learning for a while now; Eighteen years to be exact.
When I feel that I hate myself, I remember what you taught me Mom: To try to look at my fingers. One by one, I move them around and you told me it would feel very mysterious because it would feel like I cannot do anything else but move my fingers. But in that moment, as you hyperfocus, it does feel like the world has quietened down to marvel at my fingers.
And the world is in silence for a while. All is alright. But reality starts flooding in at some point anyway. My beanie feels scratchy against my head and all I am looking forward to this week is waiting for Mama to finish knitting the new beanie.
I have come to a point in my life where everything is just falling apart just like the knits on my beanie. In fact, I have lost count of how many times I have cried this weekend, the last, and the one before. Everyone seems calm and hopeful. But I am far from that. It feels as if the whole world is burning all around me but I am the only one screaming, ‘fire’.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
There are stories that must begin with an end to be understood. I suppose mine would be something like that except I can remember the day my life began with the both of you like it was just yesterday.
I was raised by the both of you who knew everything about love and goodbyes but none of you have taught me about the latter. So I have been thinking a lot about the meaning of a goodbye, especially one when death comes knocking on the door. Mama likes to say, “Take care.” Mom likes to say, “See you later.” But both do not belong to me. Both feel incomplete. Both feel heavy with unsaid expectations. So I have been searching for my own way of saying Goodbye.
And I figured, what a better way to say Goodbye than with a neutral remark. A phrase that is impartial, bland, unexceptionable and innocuous. One that does not grow hefty with expectations over time.
So I have decided. Alright, then. That is how I will say my goodbye.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
Today I am feeling worse but all hope is not lost as Uncle Stephen is getting his colleague to try a new drug combination on me.
Moms, I know it is difficult and you both think we could run away from all of this. I know your wishes to pick me up and run from life. And we could run and we could run but we would never get away. The longer we run, the further we think we have gone but that’s only what we think. It never really gets any further than this. Death is at the end of this, I can feel him…
I am scared because I feel him coming to consume me and there is nothing else to do. I am scared, Moms. I wish you would just see me. I wish you would stop being consumed by your griefs.
I am tired and ready to let go but seeing the both of you trying to fight this battle for me is enough to get me to stand up and run once again– even if that might mean me getting on all fours to crawl to the destination. I will ready my body for new toxic drugs and remain hopeful that I may see improvements in my condition soon with the cocktail coursing through my veins.
I am tired. But I will try. One last time, for the both of you.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
Today everyone came to our house for a final party. I know what both of you might say: that it is just a party, not a final one. Though in hindsight when you read this, it would have been the final one.
I must say that the both of you have done so much to not make it feel like a farewell party. Everyone gathered in the dining room around our large oak table is enough to send me over the edge of tears and God, my speech. Auntie Yelena gave me a recording of it.
With all the free time that comes with being sick, I have transcribed and am pasting it here for reference if you ever find yourselves missing me. Perhaps somewhere amongst my words, you may find that I am very alive in another world:
Gosh, I don’t even know where to start. I really don’t know. I guess everyone here has become aware about my condition whether through me, or my Moms. Gosh, I uh- I don’t really know what to say. I wasn’t expecting this, for sure. I actually gave my Moms a list and told them to call you all up to be invited to my funeral but somehow, they have turned it into a dinner invitation list. And here you all are. Thank you for coming. I just… I guess… I guess in an alternate universe where our lives were measured as books, where yours would be a long story, I would only be but a chapter. And that does seem sad and soppy.
But… here’s the thing about dying. Even as I am dying, I am still living. And a sense of joy has overcome me as I rest satisfied in my chapter, knowing that I have done everything to fill it to the brim. I have… I have been cared so deeply and loved so profoundly by my beautiful Moms who have given me everything that has led me to this day as I stand before you. And my Aunties, Uncles and friends… You have loved me, beyond your own boundaries. Even though every minute spent together will never be enough, please do not ever discount yourselves for filling my life with a joy in the past few months– a joy that was unknown to me all these years prior.
And uh- I once thought it would be impossible to live a life so full at just eighteen. But here I am, spilling over. From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you for this peace and joy. Thank you.
As I lay here in bed after my big day, I am aching in places I never knew possible. I must say that I am struggling to keep myself awake to write this. And I know my strength is not what it used to be. The drugs don’t seem to be working and life for me has come to a point of no return where dying feels like a warm hug and living, a complete pain in the ass.
But even as I am dying, I am still living. One day at a time. One memory at a time.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
Auntie Yelena is helping me write this today as I am not feeling as well as I would like to be. Since the last letter, I am feeling even weaker. I try to stay strong for the both of you– to hang on, like Mom says. But I am getting tired, Moms. I am not sure how much longer I can hang on.
Thank you for driving me to my favorite lake today. With my energy, I was only able to throw one stone along that slippery lake. My stones always only seem to be swallowed whole by the water. Ploop. That’s the little sound that it makes. I hear it fresh in my ears each time I think of it. It means much to me that you brought me there, wheelchair and all. Because I suppose it might be one of, if not my last time there. I have great and fond memories of us pitching a tent upon the request of Mom trying to get us to understand the “glamping” experience.
And now, I have another memory to add to my ever growing collection. Though I am sure there will never be enough time to collect them all. Everything feels like a lack these days even though I try to remain grateful to have had any time with the both of you at all. Eighteen and a half years. Despite that, all these years just don’t feel enough.
Living on the edge of death has led me to a realization that mercy gives me peace while justice only breeds bitterness.
I love you moms.
____________________
Dear Mom and Mama,
I am tired but I felt a strong need to write this before bed tonight. I feel that this might be my last entry for a while and I am not sure if I am able to write another long one this time. My brain is all there but my thoughts are foggy and my body is failing on me. Even talking takes up too much energy today. I hope you will forgive me.
I find it impossible to express my gratitude for you, Moms. So I just want to say Thank You, for loving me through my whole life. This unconditional love continues to baffle me every day. I love you both with my whole mind, body and soul.
Today, as I wiggle and count my fingers, I think it is time to say goodbye to you both. I am scared, Moms, that I have to leave first. But I try to be brave, for the both of you.
“Please take good care of one another when I am not there anymore. Mom, make sure Mama eats well and Mama, make sure Mom sleeps well. One day, when we see each other again, I will tell you everything. Alright, then. I love you moms, so much.” Natasha read the final line in your series of letters. The finality of your last words weighed heavy on them.
She took out a family portrait that you had chosen. It was one of you and your Moms in the hospital when you were nine. All of you had ferocious smiles plastered on your faces and and on your shirts, there was a slogan, “I beat cancer’s ass!"
Your mama’s shaky fingers reached over to thumb your face in the picture and Natasha handed it over to her wife.
Both of them came to your side. Your face looked peaceful as Wanda lifted your beanie from your head to lightly stroke your scalp with her hand. She replaced it with a brand new beanie she had knitted. Your favourite colors, grey, white and blue. Tears escaped her, dripping down onto your pillow. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t do better as parents, I’m sorry we weren’t there when you were scared,” she cried softly. The beeps on your machine were getting further apart as your heart rate slowed to a dangerous rate.
“We are here with you now, you don’t have to be scared anymore. It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay,” the susurrate echoed against your skull.
You could feel your last few breaths slowly slipping out of your body as you grew weaker by the millisecond.
Wait! One more look. Your eyes opened slowly, though they were unable to focus on your moms. It was a blur but you could see the silhouettes of your Moms holding onto each other tightly while they each connected themselves to you via a tight comforting grasp on your hand.
Your moms noticed your slight movement and they moved even closer to you, savoring every last moment. Their hands soothed against your numb skin, drawing comforting circles you had so gotten used to. You let yourself get lost in your head at the memory of their touch.
“It’s okay, moya lyubov. We are here. You don’t have to be afraid. You can let go now,” Natasha had her body bent against the rails of your hospital bed as she whispered gently to you while your mama’s breakdown commenced softly upon these lyrics of a Sokovian lullaby she used to sing to you.
We’ve been waiting for you 'tie mi t͡ʃaˈjaɫəm
Now you are here ˈʃiɪdeŋ ˈti e ˈʃte
More perfect than I imagined ˈdrage wo t͡sto ˈmisliɫəm
Our house is now a home ˈdom naʃ ˈʃiɪdeŋ ˈgnieʒdo
No matter where you go bez veˈdeɪ̆ doˈkude ˈjit͡ʃiʃ
Sunlight shines on you ˈʃiʒa ˈsunt͡so nad tiˈe
Glossy emerald eyes fluttered closed. With your final burst of energy, you lifted the corners of your mouth into a slight smile and a concluding breath escaped your lungs.
“We love you so much,” your Moms whispered as life faded into darkness.
Farewell precious world, farewell my dearest Mom, farewell my beloved Mama. Do svidaniya; Until we say hello again.
Fin.