the cancer has already spread in all the parts of her body. After taking the med

the ceiling of my room, suddenly knocking on the door, it was my dad. He told me to go and see my mum. I refused in the beginning but then I went to her. Her face was so white and shining she looked at me. She couldn’t speak in the beginning so I touched her and hugged

ents is shackled with death. The chilly air invaded our fortress, it’s here to take her, and it’s waiting for the final time to take my Mom. Soul of death, the method in which individuals die lives in the thoughts

after a nightmare. She was always present to hear my voice, but not on that day. Soul of death grabbed my mum’s spirit and she is not here anymore. My tears stung my eyes and Madame Helen didn’t let me for a second she was with me “No one gets it out of here alive.” Madame Helen held me, tears in her eyes, and murmured, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I could sense the purest love

t sleep till the wee hours of the morning that night. When I awoke and walked to my mother's room, I opened the door with a serene expression on my face. I yanked the blanket away from her face and pleaded with her to wake up. Her torso was ice cold. At that point, everyon

ene had always made for me. I glanced at our white cat, who was similarly dejected; my mother had been feeding and playing with him all the while. It wasn't until Mr. Philip informed me one day that I really looked like her that she began to refer to me as the princess. The days were quite tranquil, sorrowful, but devoid of any difficulties. I was seven years old, and I couldn't bear the thought of los

o search for ways to deal with the loss. We're looking for methods to make things a little bit simpler, as well as a little bit of empathy. So I tried to adapt with the sad fact that happened i