This is a story dedicated to the project “My Dear Friend,” in support of women with cancer.

Her death wasn’t sudden. For more than a year, we lived with the latest diagnosis, which was no longer treated, but simply kept her with us thanks to chemotherapy. Not to mention that this whole story began 12 years ago.
More recently, I spoke with my dad about how she was unusually strong, knowing that there is no way back and knowing that there is only one outcome of events, she never said: “why me”, “this is not fair”, “in my place there must be someone else.” Yes, she cried, she accepted her pain, she really wanted to live, but she did not complain about fate or failure.

We talked on the phone for several hours a day, we were always in touch, she knew absolutely everything about my life. At the same time, I knew everything about hers. Of course, she complained of pain; it was heard in her voice and breathing. It was hard for me to hear her torment, but I insisted that she tell me the whole truth.
In November 2020, my dad and I understood that the end was coming, mom couldn’t speak for more than 2 minutes, she started to lose her sight, she stopped eating and sleeping… what did I feel? I don’t remember. I don’t remember myself at all in those months, I lived in a different world, in a world where there is only my mother, and everything else I do automatically. I worked automatically, smiled at my friends automatically, exercised automatically and talked to people so. All my thoughts were only about one thing… about my mother.

On the evening of November 28, I was walking home from work, I remember it as if it was yesterday, I called my mother, she answered me in a happy voice, said that her back pain had finally gone, that she felt great and even had dinner. She said the painkillers pills from her doctor helped her a lot. I asked for the name, and I realized that my mother takes a mixture of heroin with morphine and something else that doesn’t matter anymore, these drugs paralyze the entire nervous system, and right in the instructions it says that it’s impossible to get off these pills, and the duration of the “treatment” is several days.

Instantly, rivers of tears rolled down my face. My voice trembled, but my mother was happy. My heart was breaking, I wanted to scream, but she said how wonderful she had spent the evening and that she would probably be able to come to Rome for Christmas. That was our last conversation… I don’t remember how I got home, I don’t remember what I ate or if I even had dinner. The next morning I called my mother, and my father answered me. My father answered all the following calls… 

love will come
and when love comes
love will hold you
love will call your name
and you will melt
sometimes though
love will hurt you but
love will never mean to
love will play no games
cause love knows life
has been hard enough already


- rupi kaur