Mom’s voice at the other end of the phone is anxious because her carer is late.
“Don’t worry, mom,” I say. “She’ll be there soon.”
A flustered Tracy finally arrives. “Damn traffic,” she says.
“Love you, baby girl,” I say. “Call you tomorrow.”
The phone rings the next day. My estranged sister’s voice is irritated. “Get here now. Nothing can save mom this time.”
Numerous emotions escape down my distraught face.
My Venice to London flight arrives at the hospital just in time.
She has waited for me, her firstborn. My hand squeezes hers tightly as she takes her last breath.