“Oh god, Ma! Please don’t leave us now.” I cry. My eyes swell with tears. I shut my eyes and gently hold my head to hers.

I reach for her hand. It’s cold.

I look around her room. Towers of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards and balloons flood a corner of the room. About 15 teddies and blankets are at the foot of her bed. She’s needed those blankets for the past few months, as it has been an average of -2°c outside, with extreme weather.

I look up. The dim hospital light flickering and buzzing. The old, cream, peeling away paint covers the ceiling. The silence is so loud. I can hear my heart beating a million miles an hour and everything is blurry from my tears.

I remember all the happy times we had together after Pa left. Picnics, walks in the park, baking cookies together. All these things before Ma got sick. She never told anyone. She never wanted anyone to hurt. I carefully stroked her pale, fragile skin with my hand.

The door flings open. A group of doctors gather around her hospital bed. They check many machines and shout random words to each other.

The heart rate monitor starts slowing. I know I’m about to lose her. “ I love you…” I whisper in her ear. *BEEEEEEEP* goes the machine.

She’s gone.