I don't want sympathy. I don't want people saying they're sorry, I don't want a hug.
I want her to live.
Momma, please don't go. Not yet. I'm not ready. I act brave and strong - but just underneath that, I'm a quivering blob of fear and sadness. You can't die, not yet, not now. I'm only 15! You cannot leave me! For the love of God, don't go!
It's not your fault, I know. It's no one's fault. These past three years have been rough on us all, and we can't blame anyone. But still, you can't leave me. Please. I get sick and shaky just thinking about it. I will be broken forever if you leave this world. Especially now. It's been a miracle that you've lived for these past few years, but a tumor grew again in four months. It's scary.
You always come home from the doctor; if it's bad news, you already have a list of what you're going to do to fix it.
This time you came home empty handed, saying you're hoping to buy more time.
You told me you thought this might go South quickly, saying that there may not be anything to do. You asked me if I'd be freaked if you died at home.
What the heck are you saying?! You're not leaving yet, Momma! YOU'RE NOT LEAVING! I'm still a kid. I can't go on without you. Dad will be crushed, I can't imagine our home without you. It's weird when you go to Oklahoma for a weekend. That's the way it'd be every freaking DAY if you died.
You're not dying yet, please Momma. Don't go. I need you.
Don't go.
I love you.
Author's Note: Sorry this was so short. It's hard, I'm on the verge of tears at the moment, and I really can't write much else about it. That's all I can express without losing it. I'm truly sorry for it. I needed to get that out though. Any and all prayers would be appreciated, please. I don't want to lose her. Thank you.
