My Life Without You

Epilogue: The last entry

New York City

She sits at a coffee house sipping coffee. She slides the man sitting across from her a picture. No ring on his left hand. His clean slender face looks to be about twenty-five. His low tapered fade accentuated his deep burnt umber eyes. His dimples are attractive to her.

"Mother was a great woman—A great woman and mother," she opens up. "She use to make the best strawberry pancakes for me when I was a little girl. And she never once missed reading me a bedtime story and tucking me in at night." She wipes away a lonely tear that has fallen from the corner of her eye. The sun is brightly beaming down onto her slender face as the cool breeze blows slightly past her bronzed skin.

"I remember she use to let me pick my clothes out and she would iron them. I would help her change the house decorations from one season to the next. When I wanted cupcakes, she would pour cupcake batter into the mixing bowl, and I would pour the milk and I stirred it until my hands went numb." She gave a faint smile, her dimple in her left cheek shows deeply upon her face. She scratches her left eyebrow, just below her mole. "We was a team."

"Whatever happened to your father?"

"After mother's passing, I remember my dad & Step-dad sitting in our living room talking. Talking for a long time" she continues. "Rick hands my father a letter, which at that time, had no meaning to me—well, not until I got much older. I was still so young, but seeing my dad break down." She takes a deep breath. "Seeing my dad breakdown the way he did after reading that note inside the white envelop still makes me cry to this day. That's a day I will always remember."

She turns her head towards the street, watching the hustle and bustle of commuters going by. A city bus stops to pick up the passengers waiting at the bus stop across the street from her. The street is lined with people moving along— cyclers zoomed past her in a hurry. Everyone is bustling without a care in the world. The world just keeps moving along. Time never stands still. She smells the coffee freshly brewing inside the coffee house— I should go in and grab another cup.  A tear rolls down her face. She takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly. Turning back to the journalist who was recording her every word on his tape recorder, she sighs. "My father cried heavily at the funeral," she continues. "Not too long after, me and the twins went to stay with him.

"Oh, where was that?" The Journalist ask.

"We stayed in an apartment, but not for too long. Daddy brought a house— A house big enough for all four of us."

"Do you still see or hear from Rick?" Mr. Ottis asked.

"Yes, it's wonderful having two fathers. I could see him and Noah anytime I missed them. Noah still keeps in touch too. He still lives in Michigan — An E. R. Doctor at a trauma hospital in Metro Detroit."

"That's wonderful. What about your brothers?"

"My brothers are both living in California finishing their final year of college and Playing basketball. They both have dreams of going pro."

"Niceeeee. Where do you think they'll go?"

"Well... Romelle Jr. wants to play for the Lakers. You know... Be like his favorite player, Kobe Bryant."

"And Ronelle wants to play for his favorite team—The Detroit Pistons."

The journalist nods his head in satisfaction. "And you?"

She smiles—bright as the sunny powder-blue sky they were sitting underneath. Her dark curly hair rest softly upon her thin shoulders. She glances at her smart watch on her dainty wrist. "Well... I'm a Psychologist here in New York," she finally answers, as she looks up at Mr. Ottis. "I counsel women and young girls who have endured crises."

"Seems like you all turned out just fine, Nairobi." He gazes at her fondly.

Her cheeks redden. "Yes, Just fine indeed."

The Journalist glances down at the table. "Is that the letter you brung me," he said gesturing towards the white envelope laying beside Nairobi's hand.

Val reaches down into a bag sitting on the ground next to her. She pulls a purple journal out of her bag. "Yes," she replies, as she glides the letter and the journal over to him.

"He opens the white envelope and pulls out a letter."

******

Dear Nairobi,
3/29/2019

The Last Entry

I am writing this letter for you. Rick and your father Romelle, just incase something happens to me. With this COVID-19 pandemic, I'm scared to death of getting sick. People are dying by the thousands. I have severe headaches. I'm always nauseous and the sharp pains in my stomach is overwhelming me with anxiety. On top of that, I have preeclampsia, but I'm too early to deliver—The baby is at a greater risk of dying and need more time to develop.

I cry every night knowing that there is a possibility that my baby won't survive or that I can potentially get infected by the Coronavirus.

Romelle was in-love with you from the first moment he saw you. And when he discovered we were pregnant, he was thrilled. He wanted to do everything with me; go to every doctors appointment, buy a crib and a baby carseat too. He brought so much clothes, diapers and wipes, that there is no need to have a baby shower. He is elated to have a baby.

You can see the sun every time he smiles. He said, there's no way he would miss the birth this time. The thought of being there to cut the cords is all he can think of.

If I don't make it, I want you to know
I have truly enjoyed watching you grow. I truly enjoyed being your mother pumpkin. I love you Nairobi. I love you more than words can say—beyond eternity. This world was nothing until I had you.

If I don't survive this, tell my baby I love him and I wish I could've had more time. But I will always be with there in spirit, smiling at everything my children do. Children are a blessing and if I had to, I wouldn't change anything. Sometimes mother's may not understand why certain things happen. But having a baby is the best gift that God can give you.

Please tell your father, I will always love him-- beyond eternity. And anytime he sees a bird to think of me, and know that it was God's plan to set me free— Now I can truly spread my wings and fly free.

P.S. When you get older, tell my story—Take my journal and write it in a book. Leave nothing out. I want to share My Life Without You, so that you will always know how much I really do love you Nairobi. I trust that you will put it in the right hands.

With Eternal Love,
~Val
{Always and forever your mother}