Chapter 12
As evening approached, a young woman came to the grave.
“Hello, can I help you?” Candice looked at her with confusion.
The woman’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I’m Tracy Summers, a pancreatic cancer patient. Five years ago, the Kathleen Sullivan Cancer Foundation saved my life. I came here today to thank her.”
“I’m sure she can hear you,” Candice said softly.
Tracy laid her bouquet down and bowed deeply. “Ms. Sullivan, thank you. Because of you, I’m alive today and can watch my children grow up.”
“1
Candice had witnessed scenes like this countless times. Every person who the foundation had helped remembered Kathleen’s name. What her mother had exchanged her life for was not just her family’s regret but a new life for countless others.
As night fell, Candice finally rose to her feet, ready to leave. She glanced at the headstone one last time and said, “Mom, you once asked if we’d remember you. The answer is–every single day and moment for the rest of our lives.”
On her way home, Candice opened the journal Kathleen had left behind. She had received it on her 18th birthday, and it held every precious detail, Kathleen’s pregnancy to Candice’s fifth birthday.
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The last entry was written one week before Kathleen’s death.
[My sweet Candice, you addressed Yvonne as Mommy Yvonne again today. It broke my heart. But I don’t blame you. You’re still too young to distinguish truth from lies. I only hope that someday, when you grow up and understand, you won’t hate yourself too much. I’ve never blamed you and never will. Because loving you is the happiest thing in Mommy’s life.]
A line of hurried handwriting was on the last page of the diary.
(If there’s a next life, I still want to be your mom.]
