Page 96 of All We Thought We Knew

This shouldn’t be happening. Not to my beautiful, gentle mother. She believed in God. Prayed. Went to church. The entire town knew her to be one of the kindest, most giving people.

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news.” Dr. Monahan sighed. “It will be important to keep her pain medication continuous. As the tumors enlarge, her pain level will increase. Nurse Bradford and I will discuss the use of an intravenous drip should it become difficult for Ava to swallow medication.” He paused. “Do you have any questions?”

Neither Dad nor I spoke.

“What will happen next?” Nash asked.

I sent him a look of appreciation. I couldn’t voice the query, but I needed to know the answer, no matter how much I hated it.

“Ava will steadily decline. She may have periods of lucidity, but she will grow increasingly confused. You mustn’t become upset or try to reason with her. Keep her as calm and comfortable as possible.”

Dad nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Monahan. We appreciate you coming so quickly.”

His voice sounded normal, yet I had a feeling my father was struggling to keep himself composed. His hands trembled, and his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“You’re welcome. You, Ava, and the kids,” the doctor said, including me in his gaze, “are practically family. I wish there was more I could do.”

Dad walked the doctor out while Nash and I remained in the living room.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I shook my head, fighting tears. When I trusted my voice, I said, “She doesn’t deserve this, Nash.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Then why is God doing this to her?” I said, my voice hard. “If he’s as real as she believes, why would he do this to one of his most faithful followers?”

I didn’t expect an answer. That same question had no doubt been asked through the ages.

Dad returned. His face looked ashen as he retook his seat. “Dr. Monahan said he would come by tomorrow. LuAnn will call him if we need him before that.”

I knew there were things we should discuss—end-of-life things—but I couldn’t handle them right now.

I stood. “I’m going to see if Mama is hungry. She didn’t eat any breakfast.”

Dad simply nodded.

When I reached the upstairs landing, relief swept through me when I saw Mama sitting up in bed.

“There’s my girl.” She still sounded groggy, but at least she knew who I was.

“I thought I’d come see if you were hungry.”

Nurse Bradford rose from the chair next to Mama’s bed. “We were just talking about that. I’ll go downstairs and heat some broth.”

I settled in the vacant seat. There were so many things we needed to talk about. It seemed surreal that time was running out. Dr. Monahan said she would become more and more forgetful as the tumors grew. Just this morning I concluded her friendship with Gunther Schneider wasn’t important, but after hearing her call for him, I didn’t know what to believe.

“Mama,” I began but faltered.

Should I simply leave the past in the past? Her secrets would be buried with her when the time came. Yet she’d wanted me to know. To understand something about her that she felt was important.

“Mama, can I ask you a question?”

Her gaze was fixed on the window where sunshine spilled into the room. When she turned to me, she seemed like she was a million miles away. “You look so much like your father.”

The comment surprised me. I’d always been told I resembled her. We had the same coloring, the same shape to our faces.

“He was so handsome,” she continued, her voice soft. “I knew I’d always love him, even when everyone told me I shouldn’t.”