This story is a work of fiction copyrighted by Lastimer.  Do not publish or reproduce
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Diary of Billie Rachel Morrow

June 26

 It's been five years now.  It is always hard for me, and especially for Dad.  Mom's been gone for half a decade.  It's been so different since then for me, for Dad, for Mike and Sean.

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 We had a perfect family.  Two loving parents, three beautiful children, perfect suburban home.  My dad: an ad exec, commuting from the Island to New York, caring and conscientious of us.  Mom has just gone back to teaching after a two and a half year hiatus from the job to have my brothers (they're twins).  She was sweet, and she knew just the right things to say.  She'd sing to us before we went to sleep, she had an angelic voice (ironic, if you think about it).  I was probably to old for it, but I just loved how she sang.  And it was always "My Girl."  She truly enjoyed having me as a daughter.  I just knew she cared so much.

 Then the bombshell.  Mom had cancer.  I still remember the day: September 20th.  I still don't like to think about it.  She had a rare cancer, only seen in about 1 out of 50 million cases.  It was aggressive, and then the words I still cringe at: No Cure.  The doctors gave her about a year to live.

 It was hard on everyone with my mother having cancer.  My dad soon had to take over more responsibilities.  I turned 10 in June, so I also started helping out more.  We needed to adjust, since my mom would soon become too weak from treatments to do much of anything.  The doctors said there was no cure, but they decided to help "extend her life" by using the traditional methods.  If it were me, I would hate if some quack started pumping me with drugs and radiation that sapped my strength and stole my hair.  If that was intended by the cancer, then I would let those things happen, but I really didn't see why it was necessary.

 We did get lots of help from my uncle.  Kenny had just divorced his wife, and decided to move from where he was living in Michigan back to New York to help his brother-in-law.  Uncle Kenny was an artist, so he could work from our house.  We really didn't care about that though.  As long as he could help us, he didn't have to contribute a dime.  He knew how much his sister meant to my father, and he knew my attachment to Mom.  Andy and Sean were still too young to grasp a bond as tight as mine, but he still made it an enjoyable situation from them.  He too had a good voice (guess it's the genes; I'm pretty good myself), so he would use song to comfort me as well.

 The other big change at that time was my increased time in soccer.  I had played rec all the time, and was pretty good at it.  My parents weren't ready for me to join a traveling team, but suddenly Dad had a change of heart.  Looking back, I realize he had done it to help me get my mind off Mom.  It also helped him too.  And I know Mom was proud of me getting better.

 It continued like that for months.  April 17 is another big date.  This was the last day my Mom ever spent time in our house.  She was being moved into the hospital.  She lived there for the next two months.  I would visit her nearly every day with Dad or Uncle Kenny.  She loved me being there, even building enough strength to sing to me.  But it was also sad.  Normally I would fall asleep after her song.  Now, she would fall asleep from exhaustion after the song.

 June 25 and 26 still replay in my head a lot.  On the 25th the doctors told my dad that she had gotten to the point where she would soon lose consciousness and require life support.  Apparently, they had talked about this, and decided that they would not try and save her if she lost consciousness.  It was time to start making arrangements and saying last goodbyes.

 Dad took me on the 25th to see Mom.  He told me it wouldn't be more than a few more days.  It was time to say goodbye.  But the stubborn girl I was (a bit of my Mom), I wanted to go every time with him.  I wanted to be there when she went to Heaven.

 She was almost gone.  When we went to her room, we talked for the last time.  I decided that this time, I would sing to her.  I sang "My Girl" for her this time.  She tried to join in at the chorus, but she could only muster a few words.  When we left I said, "Bye Mommy."  She replied "Bye Billie.  Don't forget I love you."

 Those would be her last words to me.  I would go the next day, but she had already lost consciousness.  It was me, Dad, Uncle Kenny, and my Grandparents.  We were saying our final farewells.  I kissed Mom on the forehead, then sang to her.  When they felt I should go, my uncle took me out to the chapel in the hospital.  We are pretty spiritual people, so we decided to pray for my mom.  I wished God would be good to her in heaven.  When we went back, Dad and my grandparents were standing outside the room.  She had passed away.

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 Today I cried a lot.  I was like this every anniversary.  I still give a birthday present on her birthday, and a present at Christmas too.  I can't give it to her, so it is always donated to a womens' shelter or a hospital for cancer patients.  She had donated time to these organizations before she died.  It always remains special for me to do something like this.

 We also had received some good news today.  My dad had held the news back for a few days, hoping to announcing something happy on such a sad occasion.  He had gotten a new job.  He had been hired for a big company in Philly to be a marketing exec.  We would be moving to New Jersey, so that we could stay closer to my grandparents, who still lived in Long Island.

 We toasted to the announcement.  Dad and Kenny with champagne, me with ginger ale.  My brothers are still too young to toast responsibily, so they just clapped.

 I'm starting to feel like a move is the perfect idea to change perspective.  Maybe it will shake me out the rut I've been in since Mom died.