Ellen stood frozen, the storm muffled into silence. Anna’s eyes were red, hollow, yet kind. “You probably don’t remember me,” she continued, “but I remember you, sitting by his bed every night. You never left. I used to think, if every child had a mother like that, maybe we’d lose fewer.”
Anna’s hands shook as she spoke. “I was with him when… when he stopped breathing. He thanked me, you know. Said I helped him breathe easier.” Her voice cracked. “I was already under tremendous professional strain then. After him, I couldn’t work another shift. I meant to visit, but I couldn’t face you or the ward again.”