When my mom first came down with a fever and a sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach, we were both worried\u2014but she hated hospitals with a passion.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbigail,\u201d she said, leaning weakly against the couch, her face pale with sweat, \u201clet me just take some painkillers and rest. If it doesn\u2019t get better, then we\u2019ll go. Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded, even though my gut told me we should go right then. My mom had always been stubborn about hospitals, and I didn\u2019t want to upset her further.<\/p>\n
But by midnight, things got much worse. She tossed and turned, clutching her pajamas with trembling hands. Her skin was burning hot, her forehead drenched in sweat.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s time, Abi,\u201d she whispered, her voice shaking.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t hesitate. I grabbed my bag, helped her into the car, and drove us to the emergency room, my heart pounding the entire way.<\/p>\n
The doctor examined her quickly and then shook his head in disbelief.
\n\u201cIt\u2019s appendicitis,\u201d he confirmed. \u201cAnd I honestly don\u2019t know how you\u2019ve been coping, Diana. We need to get you into surgery as soon as possible. I\u2019ll have the nurses settle you in and get you onto an IV.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt my throat tighten. \u201cWhen will Mom have surgery?\u201d I asked nervously.<\/p>\n
\u201cTomorrow morning,\u201d the doctor replied firmly. \u201cWe cannot put it off any longer.\u201d<\/p>\n
That night, I stayed by her side, curled up in an uncomfortable armchair, half-awake, just listening to the sounds of her breathing and the beeping monitors.<\/p>\n
By morning, when the nurses prepared her for surgery, I could see how terrified she was.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, it\u2019s going to be okay,\u201d I whispered, holding her hand tightly. \u201cThey do this every day. It\u2019s a routine procedure.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded faintly, but her wide eyes betrayed her fear. Then, just before the orderlies wheeled her into the operating room, she suddenly grabbed my wrist with surprising strength.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbi,\u201d she said urgently, her voice trembling, \u201cdon\u2019t stay here. Don\u2019t wait for me. Please, darling, go home and burn my notebook. It\u2019s the black one by my bedside. If anything happens to me, Abi, I need that book gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze. \u201cMom, what are you talking about? You\u2019re going to be fine. It\u2019s just appendicitis.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d she said, her breathing uneven. \u201cBut Abigail, promise me. Burn it. Don\u2019t read it, don\u2019t go through it. Just burn it. When I come out on the other side, I\u2019ll explain. But for now\u2026 please.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could see the desperation in her eyes. I didn\u2019t want her going into surgery with that weight on her chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, Mom,\u201d I said softly, squeezing her hand. \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her face relaxed a little, and she let go, allowing them to wheel her away.<\/p>\n
But as soon as she disappeared down the hallway, my mind began racing. Burn her notebook? What was in it that she wanted erased so badly?<\/p>\n
I told myself to wait. To be patient. But curiosity burned in me like fire. I knew surgery and recovery would take hours. I couldn\u2019t stop thinking about her words.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s in that notebook, Mom?\u201d I whispered as I drove home. \u201cWhat could you possibly be hiding?\u201d<\/p>\n
When I entered her room, I saw it right away\u2014sitting neatly on her nightstand. A plain, black leather notebook, no title, no markings. Beside it were charcoal pencils and fine liners. My stomach churned as I reached for it.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo I keep my promise,\u201d I murmured, \u201cor do I find out what you were so desperate to hide?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at it for what felt like forever. Then, unable to resist, I flipped it open.<\/p>\n
And my breath caught.<\/p>\n
The first page was a sketch\u2014so lifelike it nearly startled me. It was my dad. His eyes sparkled from the page as though he were looking right at me.<\/p>\n
I flipped the page. Another drawing. This time, he was smiling, his arm casually slung over a chair. Another page\u2014another portrait. His face at every angle, his every expression captured in loving detail.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat on earth\u2026\u201d I whispered, my hands trembling as I turned the pages faster and faster.<\/p>\n
Finally, I reached the last page. There were no drawings\u2014just a single line in my mother\u2019s delicate handwriting:<\/p>\n
I loved you, Adam. Even when you didn\u2019t love me back.<\/p>\n
I sank to the floor, stunned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWow\u2026\u201d I breathed. My heart ached as I realized what this notebook truly was. My mom had poured her soul into it\u2014every ounce of love and pain she carried after my father left us.<\/p>\n
How could I destroy this? How could I burn the evidence of her broken heart?<\/p>\n
I shut the book gently and pressed it against my chest. \u201cI can\u2019t do it, Mom. I can\u2019t erase your love.\u201d<\/p>\n
So, I carried it with me back to the hospital.<\/p>\n
When I arrived, she was still in recovery\u2014pale, weak, but alive. I sat by her side, waiting for her eyes to flutter open. Finally, she stirred.<\/p>\n
Her voice was raspy, but her first words pierced through me. \u201cDid you get to the book, Abi?\u201d<\/p>\n
I hesitated. \u201cI did,\u201d I admitted softly. \u201cBut I couldn\u2019t burn it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tears welled in her eyes, and for a second, I feared I\u2019d disappointed her. But then, she gave my hand a weak squeeze and whispered, \u201cIt\u2019s okay, darling. I just didn\u2019t want your father to find it\u2026 if something happened to me. I didn\u2019t want him to think I was\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCrazy? Pathetic? Sad?\u201d I finished for her. \u201cMom, you\u2019re none of those things. You loved him. There\u2019s nothing wrong with that. He\u2019s the one who left us when he had that affair, not you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her lips quivered as more tears slipped down her cheeks. She closed her eyes briefly and whispered, \u201cI\u2019m sorry you saw it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head. \u201cDon\u2019t be sorry. I saw how much you loved him. And Mom\u2026 those drawings are breathtaking. It was like he was standing right in front of me.\u201d<\/p>\n
She gave a faint smile. \u201cI spent hours on those, Abi. After he left, I couldn\u2019t stop thinking about him. I read about writing down grief\u2026 but I couldn\u2019t write it. I could only draw it. Maybe the pain never fully left, but it helped me survive.\u201d<\/p>\n
I brushed her hair back gently. \u201cMom, it\u2019s okay to hurt. You loved him since you were eighteen. That\u2019s not something to be ashamed of.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled again. \u201cI was so scared\u2026 that if I didn\u2019t make it through surgery, he might find that notebook. And I couldn\u2019t bear the thought of him knowing how much I still cared.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s not going to find out,\u201d I promised. \u201cThis will stay a secret between us. When you\u2019re ready, you can decide what to do with it. Until then\u2026 it\u2019s safe with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Relief softened her face. She gave a small nod and whispered, \u201cThank you, sweetheart. That means more to me than you know. Now, can you please get me some jello or something? I need to get rid of this awful metallic taste in my mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed through the lump in my throat. \u201cComing right up.\u201d<\/p>\n
As I walked out to find her some food, I thought about how deeply she had been wounded\u2014and how strong she had been to carry it all this time in silence.<\/p>\n
That notebook wasn\u2019t just sketches. It was her heart. Her love. Her grief.<\/p>\n
And now\u2026 it was our secret.<\/p>\n
But I couldn\u2019t stop asking myself\u2014<\/p>\n
What would you have done?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When my mom first came down with a fever and a sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach, we were both worried\u2014but she hated hospitals with a passion. \u201cAbigail,\u201d she said, leaning weakly against the couch, her face pale with sweat, \u201clet me just take some painkillers and rest. If it doesn\u2019t get better, then we\u2019ll […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32940","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32940","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=32940"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32940\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32941,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32940\/revisions\/32941"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=32940"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=32940"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=32940"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}