There she sat in the living room, on her beige and green rocking chair. My lovely mother whose lived until 99 years old and counting. My lovely mother who gave birth to my eldest sister when she was 18 and raised her alone at her aunt’s house because her mom nor the father of her child wanted to except her and her baby. My mom who graduated high school at 19 and graduated college at 25 with her master’s degree in medical science. My mom who fell in love with my father, who was the owner of the lab that she worked at until she retired. Our mom who gave birth to 3 children, Julie; the eldest, Brent; the middle child, and me; the youngest, and raised them all with the same loving and equal attention. Our mom who made sure to care for us after dad died and made sure we got everything we needed even if it meant she had to sacrifice her meals.

Our mom who sat everyone down on the one cold night we came to visit, because that’s what we do every year on the day dad died. Julie, her husband, and two children; Brent, his wife, and their twin sons; me, my husband, and our three children, we all sat in the living room all cramped up and cozy, and ready to listen to what she had to say.

My mom, our mom, and our children’s grandmother who told us she was ill, who told us she only had one month left to live.

Our Mrs. Janice Jones whose eyes sparkled as she laughed when everyone stared and covered their mouths in disbelief. My best friend who still found it in herself to comfort the sum of us who were tearing up and holding our hearts in pain. The upcoming month was her birthday, we were planning a big celebration for her 100th year on earth, but to hear it would be her last? We were all in denial. There had to be something we could do, something that could save her. But she explained that it was too late, she explained that even if there was a solution that she would refuse it, because she’s lived long enough. She’s seen everything she’s wanted to, her children and her children’s children living happily, she said she’s lived long enough and wanted to see our dad again. We couldn’t deny her that, surely she misses him as much as we do if not more.

So there we were June 15th at 11:00pm, most of the family was cuddled inside of her hospital room.

Even in her last moments, she looked at us all so dearly.

Each and everyone of us spent the last hour talking and reminiscing with her, telling her how much we loved her.

Then once the clock struck 12:00am and it was a new day, our mom and our dearest friend took her first and last breath on her 100th birthday.

Our hearts were bloated with pain, our bodies on the verge of dropping to our knees, but we held it in, we held in our tears and our screams just for a few minutes. So that she would make it to dad in peace, without looking back in worry.