Trey
After calling Jeremiah, he and William rush to the hospital, and we all gather in the waiting room. Despite my efforts to remain hopeful, a sense of dread settles over me. Deep down, I can't shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong with Mom.
As we sit anxiously, the doctor emerges, his expression stoic and unreadable. Instantly, my heart sinks. I know what he's about to tell us isn't good news.

"I'm sorry to inform you that your mother's condition has deteriorated significantly. The bleeding in her brain has led to irreparable damage, and she is now in a vegetative state. In such cases, we must consider the quality of life and the likelihood of any meaningful recovery. It's a difficult decision, but at this point, we must discuss the possibility of withdrawing life support. This means that you and your family will need to decide when the appropriate time is to remove the medical interventions that are currently keeping her alive. I understand this is an incredibly challenging decision, and I'm here to support you through this process in any way I can."
The air in the room thickens with tension as the doctor's words sink in. "What the fuck are you talking about?" William barks, his voice cutting through the silence.
Candice and Kiara's cries fill the small room, their tears mingling with the heavy atmosphere. Jeremiah, slumped in a chair, buries his face in his hoodie, shoulders shaking with silent grief.
As for me, I'm frozen, trapped in a bubble of numbness. Emotions swirl around me like a storm, but I can't seem to grasp any of them, as if they're just out of reach. A bitter, humorless laugh escapes my lips involuntarily. "You're lying. You have to be," I spit out, my gaze fixed on Dr. Rodriguez.
Mom wouldn't leave us like this. This has to be some terrible fucking joke, and she's going to wake up. She's been through so much...she was beaten to an inch of her life multiple times, she smoked cigarettes every day and drank her body weight in alcohol.
His expression softens with sympathy, but his eyes betray the weight of the truth. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs.

Something in my brain snaps, the reality of the situation washing over me like a tidal wave, and all I can feel is anger boiling inside me. "That's bullshit. You said she isn't dead, so go wake her the fuck up?" I demand, my voice rising with each word. "Why are you just giving up on her?"
My fists are clenched so tight, my knuckles ache, and my entire body trembles with rage as I push past the doctor, disregarding his attempts to stop me. I storm towards the room where Mom lies, determined that she's going to wake up any moment now and come home with us.
She remains unmoving, her brown hair spread out across the pillow like a halo. "Mama, wake up. We're going home!" I shout, my voice cracking with desperation. "This isn't funny anymore."
The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the steady beeping of the machines monitoring her vital signs. My words hang heavy in the air, unanswered, as the reality of her condition sinks in with each passing moment.

I squeeze her warm hand gently, hoping it will get her to respond. "See, Mama? You're still warm, you're still alive," I murmur, my voice trembling with emotion. "You're okay, just wake up for me. For us. Okay?"
Tears blur my vision as I plead with her to wake up, to give me some sign that she can hear me. But her hand remains limp in mine, and the weight of her stillness presses down on my chest like a lead weight.
I can sense the others in the room, their presence heavy with grief and anguish, but they remain near the door, their quiet sobs barely audible over the hum of the machines.
"Why didn't you keep your promise and get help, Mama?" I shout, my voice a broken mess. "Now, I have to go the rest of my life without you. And what about Candice and Jeremiah? We all need you, you can't leave us!"
She still doesn't respond. She doesn't squeeze my hand, blink, or anything. A wave of grief crashes over me, threatening to consume me whole.
As I sink to the floor sobbing, strong arms wrap around me from behind. "It's okay, son. We're all here for you, we'll get through this together," William murmurs.
I bury my face in my hands, allowing myself to finally release the flood of emotions pent up inside me. Tears stream down my cheeks unchecked as I let out all the pain, grief, and frustration that has been building up inside me since we arrived at the hospital.
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Now we stand around her bed deciding when we're going to take her off of life support.
Jeremiah's voice trembles as he speaks, his eyes fixed on Mom's still form. "Trey, do you think she'll wake up?" he murmurs, barely audible over the hum of the machines.
I shake my head, the weight of reality settling heavily on my shoulders. "I don't think so, Jeremiah," I reply softly, my words heavy with grief. "The doctors said her condition is irreversible. Keeping her on life support is just prolonging the inevitable."
As I glance at Mom lying motionless in the bed, a lump forms in my throat. It's hard to accept that this may be the last time I see her alive, but I know we can't keep her here like this, it would be selfish. We have to make the decision to let her go, to end her suffering and allow her to find peace.
Kiara squeezes my hand to let me know that she's here, and not somewhere violently throwing up in a trashcan like she was when I had that complete breakdown yesterday. Glancing down at her, I see the effort she's making to keep up a reassuring smile, but the sadness in her eyes tells a different story; they brim with unshed tears.
Returning her squeeze with a grateful nod, I find comfort in her presence, knowing that even in the midst of our grief, we're in this together. With Mom's limited family, it's just the four of us and William gathered here to bid her farewell.
Exiting the room, we give each other space to say our final goodbyes in private. As Kiara steps back outside, she leans in and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. "I'll be right here if you need me, okay?" she says softly.
I can sense the hint of guilt in her expression, knowing she feels bad about not being able to offer more support earlier. But it's not her fault she's sick, and I don't hold it against her.
"It's okay, Cupcake," I remind her with a small smile before I turn towards the room. Despite my attempt at reassurance, sadness and dread surge through me like a relentless tide. But I know I have to be strong for Mom, even as my heart feels like it's sinking into my chest like a dead weight.
I have to let her go.
Sitting on the bed beside Mom, I gently grasp her hand. The warmth of her skin tears at my heart, knowing that soon it will be gone once I give the okay to turn off the machines keeping her body tethered to this world.
"Uh, hey Mama. I'm sorry for yesterday, I don't know what the hell that was. I guess I just... lost it. I grew up feeling like I had to be strong for you, for Candice, and Jeremiah because I didn't have any other choice. I was the man of the house, the one everyone depended on.
I know I've given you hell, especially as a teenager. I had so much anger inside, and I didn't know how to deal with it. But I tried, Mama, I really did. After I graduated, I tried so damn hard to make things right.
You've always been so proud of me, Mama. You've supported me through everything, even when I made mistakes. And yeah, you made mistakes too, but you were a good mother. Don't ever doubt that for a second. You never gave up on us. You never walked away."
For the next hour, I reminisce about moments we shared, like the time when my teacher wrongly accused me of starting a fight. Even though I was usually the one to instigate them, she believed me when I said I didn't that time. She marched right into the school and raised hell on my behalf.
Recently, she was thrilled when I told her about my proposal to Kiara. Though she scolded me for not including her in the moment, she couldn't contain her excitement, going on and on about the adorable babies we'd have. My heart hurts knowing she won't be able to meet them, but I'm determined to ensure they know who she was. Her spirit will live on through the stories and memories I'll share with them.
"You've always been so strong, but it's time to rest now," I say, my voice trembling with tears. "You can let go now, Mama."
With a heavy heart, I lean forward and gently kiss her forehead, hoping to convey all the love and gratitude I feel for her in that simple gesture. As soon as my lips touch her skin, the monitor lets out a long, steady tone, signaling that her heart has stopped beating.
A mixture of sorrow and relief floods through me in that moment. Sorrow for the loss of my mother, the woman who raised me with unwavering love and support. Relief knowing that she's finally free from the pain and suffering that had consumed her, that had driven her to drown herself in bottles.
Everyone rushes into the room and Kiara wraps her arms around me in a comforting hug. We watch as she takes her last breath, her departure from this world marked by a profound stillness that settles over the room. In that moment of stillness, as Mom's spirit slips away, we find peace in our shared memories and the love that I hope will exist in our hearts forever.