Meredith's sister

44

Mia's POV

The days stretched into weeks, each one feeling longer than the last. The treatments started, and with them came the familiar rhythm of hospital visits—chemo sessions, radiation treatments, and endless rounds of tests to measure how my body was responding. The side effects hit hard and fast. Fatigue, nausea, the strange metallic taste in my mouth that lingered no matter how much I brushed my teeth. But none of that compared to the emotional toll it was taking on me.

Every day, I woke up with a sense of dread, wondering how much longer I could keep going. But then I'd look over at Allison, her small hands reaching out to me as if she could somehow sense my pain. And Teddy... Teddy had been my rock. She was with me through it all, never letting me face a moment alone. She held me when the pain was too much, when the fear threatened to take over.

But I could see it in her eyes. The exhaustion. The worry. The sadness that she was trying so hard to hide. She was afraid. And even though I had never been one to show weakness, I couldn't help but feel like I was pulling her down with me. She deserved more. She deserved a life without cancer, without the constant threat of loss hanging over us.

One night, after another round of treatment, Teddy and I sat in our living room. The house was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the background. Allison was already in bed, her tiny form curled up under the blanket.

I could see the weariness in Teddy's face as she sat across from me. Her eyes were dark, shadowed with exhaustion, but she still tried to smile for me.

"Mia," she began, her voice soft, hesitant. "You're doing everything you can. I need you to know that."

I shook my head, the guilt rising in my chest. "I don't feel like I'm doing enough. I don't feel like I'm strong enough for you, for Allison. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay."

"You don't have to pretend, Mia." Teddy's voice cracked slightly as she leaned forward, her hands resting on mine. "I see you. I see how hard you're fighting. And I'm here. Every step of the way."

I closed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm so scared, Teddy. I'm scared that I'm not going to make it. I'm scared that I'm going to leave you both behind. I'm scared that Allison won't remember me."

Teddy's hands tightened around mine, her thumb stroking over my knuckles in slow, soothing motions. "Allison will remember you, Mia. She will. She's already so much like you in so many ways. The way she laughs, the way she holds on to the little things. You're in her, Mia. And you always will be."

I felt the tears starting to fall, and I let them. I let myself break, let the fear pour out of me, because I knew I couldn't carry it alone anymore. Teddy didn't say anything more. She didn't need to. She just held me, and that was enough.

The next few days passed in a blur of treatments and small moments of normalcy. There were still good days, moments when the weight of everything didn't feel quite so heavy. On those days, I would steal time with Allison—taking her to the park, reading her favorite books, watching her dance around the living room with a smile that could light up the darkest of days.

But on the bad days, when the nausea was overwhelming or the pain left me weak and trembling, I would retreat to my room, trying to shield my family from the worst of it. I didn't want Allison to see me like that. I didn't want her to remember me as a shadow of who I once was.

But one evening, I couldn't hide it. The pain had been relentless all day, and by the time I got to Allison's room, I was barely holding it together. She was sitting on the floor, playing with her toys, when I walked in. Her eyes immediately turned to me, and without a word, she got up and ran to me, her small arms wrapping around my legs.

"Mommy," she whispered, looking up at me with her wide, trusting eyes. "You okay?"

I crouched down, forcing a smile. "I'm okay, baby," I said, my voice shaky. "Just a little tired, that's all."

But Allison wasn't fooled. She placed her hand gently on my cheek, her touch soft and comforting, as if she knew something was wrong but didn't have the words to ask.

"Mommy, you no cry," she said, her voice filled with concern. "I help you."

I could feel the lump in my throat grow, and for a moment, I couldn't speak. How could I explain this to her? How could I make her understand something that I didn't even fully understand myself?

"I'm not crying, sweetheart," I finally whispered, wiping away a tear that had escaped down my cheek. "I'm just... just a little bit sad, that's all."

Allison smiled, her innocence a balm for my soul. "I kiss it better," she said, leaning up and planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Mommy feel better now."

And in that moment, despite the pain, despite the fear, I felt something shift inside me. Allison didn't need to know everything. She didn't need to carry the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. But she knew how to love me, how to make everything feel just a little bit lighter.

"Thank you, baby," I said, hugging her tight. "You're my little angel."

The next few weeks brought more tests, more difficult decisions, and more moments of quiet reflection. The cancer was progressing. My body was fighting, but it was losing. I could feel it—each day, it became harder to keep up with the treatments, to push through the fatigue, to stay hopeful.

But through it all, I still had my family. I had Teddy, who loved me more than I thought I deserved. I had my sisters, who fought for me every day. And I had Allison, my little girl, who showed me what it truly meant to live with hope, even in the darkest of times.

I wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. Not while I still had them.

And so I kept fighting. I fought for Teddy. I fought for Allison. I fought for every moment I could steal with them. Because that was all I had left to give.

One day at a time. One moment at a time.

And I wasn't going to stop. Not while there was still time left to love.