Prologue
Amelia
January
I’d never thoughtabout what it would be like to stare at a dead body. With the countless Dateline episodes I’ve watched, I would have thought I’d be terrified, stunned, or at the very least running away as fast as possible. But no. I stood still, caressing the still-warm left hand of the dead woman that lay in front of me. Slowly removing the simple gold wedding band off her ring finger. Keeping my eyes on the green veins that coursed through her slightly wrinkled hand. The hand that belonged to my mother, Anna.
I’d known this moment was coming. We had time to prepare for the inevitable. I mean let’s face it, you didn’t see many fun 5k’s hosted for pancreatic cancer.
Two months ago, when we were given the diagnosis, it was as if the doctor had given us her time of death, rather than the information regarding this disease. What made this moment even more unsettling, was that the doctor was my father. A man who had dedicated his life to his wife, family and medicine. Yet now, after decades of practicing medicine, wielding his power and knowledge to save endless lives, it seemed as though it was all in vain as he could not save the love of his life.
Being an expert in his field meant knowing that there was no sugar coating what would happen. My mother, who had been with my father since she was eighteen and had sat through endless dinners with medical chatter, had known once she heard the words “stage four pancreatic cancer” that there was no course of action for her to cling onto hope.
Me on the other hand, I like to consider myself as a healthy balance of stubborn and optimistic, and maybe a little sprinkle of delusional. So of course I’d gone down the rabbit hole looking for any and all clinical treatments available around the world. Unfortunately, when I presented my parents with my erratic research, they just gave me a look that let me know I had clearly missed the memo that we weren’t fighting this, but rather “making arrangements” with the time we had left.
You would think my job as a financial risk analyst would help me understand the data and the cold hard facts that the likelihood of my mother surviving were slim to none. Yet no matter how many medical reports I read, my brain refused to accept the inevitable result.
The last two months had been the most gut wrenching of my life. Not because my mother was withering away, but quite the opposite. She’d seemed relatively healthy to me and everyone around her, even though we knew that there was a silent killer living inside of her.
No, the worst part of it all was that my mother, my best friend, had still walked side by side with me, but it felt as though she were already a ghost.
Even in the midst of the impending doom, my mother had been keen on preparing for all the moments she would miss in the future. She wrote letters and left video messages to her future grandchildren. Arranged gifts to be opened on certain birthdays and holidays, and even took me wedding dress shopping.
Yes, wedding dress shopping for a wedding that had no groom at the time. My mother said she didn’t want to miss out on the experience, and to be honest, neither had I. The appointment started out awkward since there was no wedding date, location or groom to consider, but I should have known that my mother would come prepared. She pulled out a photo from her purse and asked the bridal consultant for a specific dress.
“Mami, what was that about?”
“Mija I saw this dress on Eva Longoria, and knew it would look great on you since you two are about the same height and body type.”
“Eva Longoria?! Mom, we can’t afford a dress like that! Plus, I don’t plan on wearing a black dress on my wedding day.”
“No, no. It’s the new Oscar de la Renta collection, you know he was Dominican right? Anyways they’ve reimagined the same dress with a few minor variations with women of different body types and sizes modeling it. Creates a whole different look. I heard that they made a bridal version, and I just need to see it on you. Just humor me.” She smiles warmly.
“Okay. I admit it looks stunning, but again, we can’t afford to be spending that kind of money for a wedding that may never happen.” I say grimly.
“Ay, none of that. Your time will come, when you’re ready. I’m sure of it. And in terms of the cost… consider it your inheritance.” She winks.
“Wow. That was super morbid. Lovely reminder for my future nonexistent wedding day,” I mumble, but before I can push the matter, the bridal consultant pulls me into a changing room to try on the dress.
I walk out to meet my mother’s instant watery gaze.
“Ay Amelia.” She covers her mouth with her shaky hands.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. I know,” I respond, wide-eyed as I look at my reflection in the mirror, then at my dying mother sitting behind me.
This is the dress.
Even if I never find a husband. This dress, this moment with my mother, it’s all worth it.
“Amelia, it’s time to go,” my brother Antonio said, snapping me out of my trance.
I finally placed her hand back on the bed and risked one final look to her face, the reality seeping in that she was really gone. I walked over to my brother and he pulled me in for a hug.
“Now what?” I muffled into his shoulder.
He sighed. “Now we go home and pretend that there is a life worth living after mom. And hopefully sometime real soon, we can actually start to believe it.”
* * *
