i pulled into parentland and sister #4 hopped into ruby, before she even buckled up she started in.

“we’re worried about you,” she said.
“huh?”
“you aren’t taking this very well, we’re all quite worried.”
“i’m sorry.”
“it’s hard for you going up there, isn’t it?”
“i can’t just go up there and watch her die,” i said.
“i’m sorry.”
“so am i. this has been the worst week of my life and i have PMS.”
“it’s ok.”
“i can’t watch her die.”

then as we approached the hospital.
“they decided not to tell her how much time she has left,” sister #4 said.
“what? why not?”
“they don’t want to upset her. would you want to know?”
“i dunno. maybe if i knew i’d live those last months differently.”
“she can’t do much.”
“but she might say things, things she doesn’t plan on saying because she doesn’t know.”
“i think she knows,” sister #4 said. “she called for a priest.”

then as we parked ruby.
“the thing that gets me the most,” she said. “is jackie [my aunt, mamala’s oldest sister]. when she leaves tomorrow, that’s the last time she’ll see her mom alive.”
“stop,” i cried. “i can’t think about it.”