“We made it,” she said. “I’m going to see my baby graduate.”
My own tears stung my eyes when she said that. Over the last month, I often found myself wondering if the only thing that was keeping her alive was the goal of making it to this day. Now that we were here, I didn’t want to let her go, but I also didn’t want her to continue suffering just because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
“We made it,” I repeated.
I drove myself to school that day, thinking about everything that had happened over the last few months. Sometimes it felt like it had only been a few days.
The extension of her life by another month wasn’t all that exciting to her doctors. It would have been a different story if she was hopping out of bed every morning and dancing across the living room on her way to make a pot of coffee. She wasn’t a medical miracle by any means. Although I cherished every extra day that I got with her, it seemed like everyone else was surprised that she hadn’t passed away in her sleep yet.
I caught up with Ben when we were both wearing our caps and gowns after rehearsal. His girlfriend was taking photos with a group of girls – two of whom I had dated sophomore year – so I had him to myself for a few minutes.
“How’s your mom?” he asked. This was how most people started conversations with me these days. Sometimes I wished that someone would ask about anything else. I would have been grateful for the distraction. But today it felt good to talk about her.
“She’s really happy today,” I said. “She’s not any better, but she’s made it a month longer than the doctors thought she would. She’s just glad that she made it long enough to see me graduate high school.”
“That’s great,” he said. “I know how much that means to you both. Are you still joining the Marine Corps or are you putting that on hold?”
“I start boot camp next month.”
“You’re not going to put it off? What about your mom?”
“She wasn’t supposed to make it this long.”
“But she did. What if she makes it another month?”
I didn’t think she would make it another month, let alone another week, but I knew that I would sound heartless if I said that. I needed to join the military so that I could serve my four years to collect the G.I. bill and go to college after. If I didn’t have this plan, I would have nothing. “I’ll be right here in San Diego if anything happens.”
Ben’s girlfriend turned from her group of friends and started calling for him. He waved to her, then turned back to me. “I gotta go.” He was about to turn away, but hesitated. “We’re having a graduation party at my place tonight. You should come.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
As much as I missed having a social life outside of school, I doubted that I would make it to that party. My mother’s days were limited, and I didn’t see myself spending the evening anywhere but by her side after I was finished walking the line.
The graduation ceremony was held at the football stadium. We had a large graduating class, and the stadium was packed. As our names were announced, we went up onto the stage one by one, where we shook the principal’s hand and had a photo taken with our diplomas. There was a round of applause and some cheering when my name was called. I scanned the crowd, but I didn’t have time to look very hard before I had to return to my seat.
When the ceremony was over, and the other students were throwing their hats up in the air and taking photos and reuniting with their families, I searched the crowd again. I doubted that my mother had the strength to walk, so I looked for a wheelchair. The football field was suddenly so congested that it became all but impossible to find her. I walked the entire length of the seating area twice before I began to worry.
And then I saw her. Not my mother, but the hospice nurse who had been at our house this morning. I glanced around her, knowing that my mother couldn’t be too far. It took me longer than it should have to recognize the look on the nurse’s face.
“I’m sorry, Luca.”
“Where is she? Did she have to go to the hospital?”
The nurse pinched her lips together. “Let’s go to the parking lot,” she said.
I caught Ben’s eye as I followed her away from the crowded field. He maintained eye contact with me until I turned away from him.
“It happened. Didn’t it?” My voice sounded flat, like it had come from someone else.
The nurse’s eyes were full of tears when she turned back to me. I didn’t imagine that going to a high school student’s graduation to inform him of his mother’s death was a regular part of her job.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know how badly she wanted to be here. It’s all she talked about today. If it’s any comfort, her last words were about how much she loved you, and how she was looking forward to seeing you walk the line after her nap.”
“She died in her sleep?”
The nurse nodded. “She wasn’t in any pain. I promise.”
“I should have been there.”
