SOUL

vision of adamma dying

June 19th, 2008

Mary's heart pounded in her chest as she walked through the quiet, early morning streets toward Adamma's house, the dream still vivid in her mind. Every detail had been so sharp, so real. She had seen it all—Adamma's seizure, the fall, the way her head had struck the ground, and the awful, still silence that followed. Her heart had ached when she woke up, and she knew, deep down, that it hadn't just been a dream. It was a warning. A truth she couldn't escape.

Her feet moved faster, almost breaking into a run as she neared Adamma's home. It couldn't be real. She couldn't lose Adamma, the only person who had ever truly understood her. The thought was unbearable, and with each step, the weight of it pressed harder on her chest.

When she arrived, the house was eerily quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath. It was only 7 a.m., and the sun had just begun to rise, casting a pale golden light across the neighborhood. She saw Adamma sitting on the porch, her figure framed by the soft glow of the morning. In her hands were letters—old, worn, like they'd been read over and over again.

For a moment, Mary hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. There was a look on Adamma's face that told her everything she needed to know. It wasn't just the calm, resigned expression—it was the way their eyes met, as if they were sharing a silent understanding. Adamma knew. She knew what was coming.

Tears filled Mary's eyes before she could stop them, and she hurried toward the porch, her steps faltering as the weight of the moment hit her all at once. She didn't even need to say anything. As soon as she reached Adamma, the tears spilled over, and her sobs broke free.

Adamma stood slowly, setting the letters aside as she opened her arms. Mary collapsed into them, her body trembling with the force of her grief. "Please," Mary choked out between sobs, her face buried in Adamma's shoulder. "Please don't go. I had a dream—you... you're going to die. I saw it. I have to stop it."

Adamma's arms wrapped around her tightly, holding her close, her voice soft and soothing, though there was a sadness to it that broke Mary's heart even more. "Shh, it's alright, darling," she whispered, stroking Mary's hair. "It's okay. It's my time."

Mary shook her head frantically, pulling back enough to look up at her, her tear-filled eyes wide with desperation. "No, it's not. It can't be your time. You can't just leave us. You can't leave Leo. You can't leave me." Her voice broke as she clung to Adamma, the panic rising in her chest like a tidal wave. "Please, Adamma. Go to the hospital. They can help you. I can help you. Just... just don't leave us."

Adamma's face softened, and she reached up to wipe the tears from Mary's cheeks with a gentle hand. "Sweetheart," she said softly, her own voice thick with emotion, "this is what's meant to be. I've known for a while now. I can't fight it."

Mary's heart shattered, the pain almost too much to bear. She gripped Adamma's coat tighter, as if holding onto her could somehow keep her here, keep her safe. "But what about Leo? He needs you. He can't lose you."

Adamma's eyes filled with love, deep and overwhelming. "You're stronger than you think, Mary. Leo is strong too, but he'll need you. More than ever. That's why I'm asking you to look after him for me."

Mary nodded through her tears, her voice a broken whisper. "I promise. I'll take care of him."

Adamma smiled, a tear slipping down her own cheek as she pulled Mary into another embrace. "I know you will, darling. I know." She held her for a long moment before pulling back slightly. "When the time is right, I need you to give him this." She handed Mary one of the letters she had been holding, pressing it gently into her hands.

Mary stared down at the letter, her hands trembling as she took it. The weight of it was heavier than anything she had ever held, and her heart ached with the knowledge of what it meant. "When?" she whispered. "When do I give it to him?"

Adamma's thumb brushed over Mary's cheek, wiping away the tears that still streamed down her face. "You'll know," she said softly. "You'll feel it. When the time comes, you'll know."

Mary's breath hitched, her chest tightening as she nodded, clutching the letter close to her chest. "I don't want you to go," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. "Please, Adamma. I don't know how to live without you."

Adamma's own tears fell then, and she gently cupped Mary's face, her touch as warm and comforting as it had always been. "I'll always be with you," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "You'll hear me. Whenever you need me, just listen, and I'll be there."

Mary broke down, her sobs wracking her small frame as she buried her face in Adamma's chest again. "I love you," she whispered through her tears. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, sweet girl," Adamma whispered back, her voice filled with the kind of love that comes with years of care, protection, and understanding. "You've been like a daughter to me."

They stood there on the porch, holding each other as if the world was falling apart around them. And in some ways, it was. For Mary, the thought of losing Adamma was unbearable. She had been the one person who had always believed in her, who had always made her feel safe, despite everything.

After what felt like an eternity, Adamma finally pulled back, her voice soft but steady. "I'm going to spend the day with my family," she said quietly, though her heart was heavy. "I want to be with them."

Mary nodded, her tears still flowing, though she tried to keep herself composed. "Okay," she whispered, though the word felt like a goodbye she wasn't ready to say.

Adamma kissed her forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment before she stepped back. "Be brave, Mary. You've got this. And you've got Leo. Don't ever forget that."

Mary watched as Adamma turned and walked back into the house, her figure fading behind the door. She wanted to run after her, to stop her, to do something. But she knew there was nothing she could do. The dream had shown her what was coming, and no matter how much she wished she could change it, fate had already decided.

As Mary made her way back home, her legs felt like they were going to give out with every step. Her sobs broke through the stillness of the morning, each one heavier than the last. The letter in her hands felt like a weight she couldn't carry, and the knowledge of what was to come made her heart ache with a pain she couldn't describe.

By the time she reached her front door, her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the steps, the sobs tearing through her chest as she cried for the woman who had become like a mother to her. She cried for Leo, who didn't know what was coming. And she cried for the helplessness that gripped her so tightly, knowing she couldn't save Adamma, no matter how much she wanted to.

The world around her seemed to blur as she sat there, her tears soaking into the fabric of her coat. The grief felt endless, consuming her as she clutched the letter to her chest, her heart shattering into pieces. And in that moment, she realized just how much she had to lose.