Day 38

My 6 year old wiped away my tears tonight.

I spent a rare evening at home before heading to hospice. And that's when Amara asked the dreaded question.

Is Lola ("grandma" in Filipino) going to die?

Amara apparently overheard the hubby and me discussing Mom's health. And now our daughter had lots of questions.

When did she get sick?

"Just before you were born," I explained, "Lola experienced a bad headache. Worse than anything any of us have felt. That's when doctors found a tumor in her brain."

What's a tumor? Will you get one too?

I explained the best way I could what a tumor was and described ways it affected Mom. I told her only God knows who will have them.

Amara couldn't understand why medicines didn't make Mom well. She's on antibiotics now so why couldn't Lola be too?

I asked if she knew what was going to happen to Mom. That's when she said it again.

Lola is going to die.

Amara smiled. Dying means meeting God. It means being greeted by Lucida, the family dog that passed away years ago. Death means seeing both of Amara's great-grandmothers.

How profound my daughter is. I was so moved, I began to cry.

Mom, why are you crying?

"I'm going to miss Lola when she's gone," I replied.

That's when Amara wiped my years with her small hands and said, "I'll miss you too when you leave me to go to heaven."

I grabbed my daughter and held her tight. I hope not to leave her soon. I just know I will not be that fortunate when it comes to my own Mom.