Hi all. This is the companion piece to Through The Darkness. I wrote this chapter for Fandom for Friends. It will be a while before it catches up to TTD, but will give more insight into Bella's life.
Huge thanks to my wonderful beta, Daphodill.
I trudge through the misty light rain, my umbrella shielding droplets from my face. Slushy ice borders the sidewalk, remnants of the snowfall from the night before. I've walked this route every day for nearly six months. I won't be doing it for much longer, and that thought devastates me. Two years ago, my life changed in the blink of an eye. A single diagnosis was all it took to rip the world from under my feet, and eventually tear my last family member away.
Mom had been murmuring of a back complaint for a couple of months. Never one to grumble about pain, she put it down to getting older; but the weakness, fatigue and weight loss were all signs of something more menacing.
Encouraging her to go to a doctor was a losing battle, she showed no regard for my professional opinion. As time went on, walking became more difficult and eventually unbearable for her. Blood tests, CT scans and a bone marrow biopsy eventually led us to a diagnosis of Waldenström's macroglobulinemia—a rare, incurable blood cancer. Her prognosis was good, being relatively healthy and under sixty-five. Patients diagnosed with this type of cancer who continued with treatment and a healthy lifestyle had survival rates of over ten years. The disease hit hard, though, and she was treated with chemotherapy, corticosteroids and even a stem cell transplant. Our hopes were dashed when the initial cancer had progressed to a secondary, more aggressive form of blood cancer called Multiple myeloma.
I take a leave of absence from my neonatal nursing position at Seattle Childrens Hospital to care for Mom full-time at home. Her condition deteriorated rapidly, and within a month, I'd packed up all of our belongings, sold our house and moved Mom into a palliative care hospital. I rented a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, only a few minutes walk away. There was no need for anything bigger; the majority of my time would be spent at the hospital.
Apprehension seizes me at the entrance to the hospital. A sense of foreboding hits; deep down I can tell something isn't right, but I can't quite put my finger on the cause. Mom's health has been slowly deteriorating over the past couple of weeks. Food is more often than not left to be thrown away, and she's confused much of the time. I hesitate, wishing once again that I'm not going through this on my own. Having another family member, someone else's shoulder to lean on, being able to draw that strength from somewhere other than myself.
I push the glass doors of the nursing home open; my nose is greeted by the scent of cleaning products and disinfectant. The odour doesn't bother me, after years of working in a hospital it's almost welcome, like coming home. Today, though, it's unsettling. I wave to the nurses at the reception desk, and make my way down the white, sterile hallways.
They forced me out the doors late last night, assuring me they'd call if there was any change. I stop at the nurses station, as I've done every morning for the last six months, to get an update on Mom's condition. Nurse Barnes is sitting at the desk, her brows furrowed as she reads over some reports.
"Good morning, Maggie. How is she today?"
"Oh, Bella. Thank goodness you're here. I was just about to call you. She's not had a good night, dear. I think it's nearly time." Sympathy is written on her kind, wrinkled face. I've been blessed to have her as part of Mom's care team.
Being in the medical profession isn't always a good thing when a family member is involved.
As a neonatal nurse, I've seen passing of life many times before. Many of the babies that are born premature, or full-term babies are born ill, don't make it. I've witnessed the love, loss and grief of parents who have to let their little ones go. But being family makes this altogether harder. You know the pain they're going through, what drugs they are getting, and what it does to their body. It hits much deeper emotionally.
When Dad died in a work-related car accident three years ago, it was sudden. He was killed on impact; there was no time to prepare ourselves for goodbyes. Mom was devastated, as was I. I'd taken personal leave to help her through the dark times. I missed my father more than anything. Being an only child, I was very close to both my parents and found it hard to adjust to Dad being gone. Even now, there are times when I think I'll just ask Dad, only to remember he's not here. I'd find myself picking up the phone to ask for advice, or help to move a piece of furniture. It's extremely hard now, as Mom's care decisions are left to me.
I stop in the doorway of Mom's room, taking in her slight figure engulfed in blankets. Maggie places a comforting hand on my shoulder as we watch her fidget with the covers. She's sleeping, but it's not a comfortable one.
"We've increased her pain relief, but there's not much more we can do for her. Go, talk to her. Buzz me if you need me." With that, she turns on her soft soled shoes and is gone.
I lower myself into the comfortable chair beside the bed. Grasping Mom's frail, bony hand I talk to her in a soft whisper, regaling tales of my childhood, and the silly things we used to do.
Her breathing comes in short, shallow gasps. I touch her arms under the blankets, feeling the coolness of her skin, despite the layers of blankets covering her. I know she doesn't have long to go; her body is starting to shut down.
I gently caress her cheek, and her eyes flutter open.
"My Baby-Belle," she rasps out, her lips cracked and dry from dehydration. It's a rare, lucid moment. More often than not nowadays her ramblings flit from details of her childhood to marrying Dad. Her long term memory is much clearer than short term these days.
"Yeah, Mom. It's me."
She struggles to bring me closer to her, indicating she has something to tell me.
"Bella." I grab the cup of water from the bedside table, bringing the straw to her lips, encouraging her to take small sips. "I need to tell you something." Her speech is slurred, and I try to get her to relax.
"No, Bella. This... this is important. I'm sorry, so very very sorry we didn't tell you earlier." Tears trail down her gaunt cheeks.
"Mom, whatever it is, it's fine. It doesn't matter now, all that matters is how much I love you." I swipe the back of my hand over my face, wiping away the tears that have spilled from my own eyes.
"It does matter, my gorgeous girl. Please know that your father and I love you...more than anything else in this world. We never meant to hurt you. I just hope in time you can forgive us."
It's taken a while for her to get these few words out, between gasping breaths and hacking coughs. I can hear the fluid in her chest from where I'm sitting. Yet another sign that the end is near. I can see the effort it's taken for her to say that, but it's obviously something important that she needs to tell me.
"What do you mean, Mom? You and Dad haven't hurt me at all. You've been the best parents a child could ever ask for."
Mom gives me a look, her well practised shut up and listen stare. "Your father and I couldn't have children. We tried for years, but it just wouldn't happen. We signed up for adoption, and we were given you. I remember the day we picked you up. Our tiny miracle...a gift that we thought would never come to fruition. To us, from that very day forward, you were ours. Not a child that was left behind as a result of a tragic accident. Your Dad and I love you as if you were our flesh and blood. " I'm speechless. I don't know what to say. I never thought any different. Why should I? Thinking back to our family photos, we seemed like a normal family.
"But how...when?" I'm so confused, as I'm sure Mom can tell by the puzzled look on my face. She pats my hand in a reassuring gesture.
"When you were a couple of months old, your parents were killed in a car accident. We were blessed that the adoption agency chose you for us." She's not finished her story, but the effort to speak is draining her.
"Bella, there wasn't just you. You have a twin, out there...somewhere. The other adoptive parents...well they could only take one child."
This information has my mind reeling. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I get my thoughts together before I speak again.
"Do you...do you know details? Where...when? Do I have a brother or sister?" I shouldn't be asking all these questions, but it will be the only chance I get.
"Honey, the only thing I can tell you is we got you from Chicago. I don't know any other details, or if your twin is a boy or girl. I'm sorry Bella, so so very sorry. We should have told you long ago, but we felt there was no need to." Her breathing is coming in gasps, and I know I need to stop her right now. The effort to talk is too much, her body isn't coping.
"Mom, it's okay. Really, I couldn't have wanted any better parents than you and Dad. It doesn't change anything, how much I love the both of you." I climb into bed beside her, pulling her frail body into my own. A sob escapes her throat, as she closes her eyes, resting her head on my shoulder. I hum to her, the song "I Was Born Under a Wandering Star" to her. I remember her telling me her Daddy used to sing that song when she was a little girl. The song is appropriate for right now. It's my way of telling her, it's time to let go.
"When I get to heaven, tie me to a tree
For I'll begin to roam and soon you'll know where I will be
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star"
"Bella..." Mom rasps out, as I softly stroke her hair, "it's time for me to go. To be with your father. We both love you, and we're so proud of you." I can't help but choke out a sob as she closes her eyes. Her heartbeat slows down, only to stop altogether a few minutes later.
I lay there and hold her, an unknown amount of time passing. Maggie pokes her head through the door. I nod, unable to speak through my tears. She understands, and leaves once again.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. It's so surreal; I've not only lost my parent, but my closest friend and confidant. To know that I'll never be back here again, that life will continue outside these walls isn't comprehensible. I've finalised all of the arrangements, and it's time to leave. The staff has been nothing short of amazing, and I'm farewelled with hugs and promises to keep in touch. I stumble through the doors, not knowing where to go. A light drizzle falls onto my face and shoulders and I don't even realise I've left without my umbrella until my clothes and hair are clinging to my clammy flesh.
Dazed and confused, I wander aimlessly down the road. The last few hours replay in my mind like a tragic movie. The despair in the pit of my stomach grows by the second—my chest is heavy with the pain. I knew Mom's time with me was coming to an end, but I didn't realise how close it was. What I wouldn't give just for another few days, just a few more hours with her, to tell her how much I love her and would miss her. Those words can never been said enough. And maybe, just maybe I could have asked more questions about my mystery sibling.
The idea of having a brother or sister is completely foreign to me. The fact that I'm not biologically related to Mom and Dad seems preposterous. My whole life I've never thought or felt differently. Wouldn't I have some kind of inkling, deep down I was different somehow? I never dwelled on the fact that my parents were blond haired and blue eyed while I have dark hair and brown eyes. Everything I've learnt in my nursing studies about genetics verifies that it's extremely rare for that to happen. Why didn't I query it then? I don't know why it never crossed my mind to look back through my ancestry. There was never any reason to question otherwise.
Knowing that losing my mom will leave me with no living relatives is a hard pill to swallow, but now finding that somewhere in the world there is another tie to my past, a family I've never heard of, let alone known to exist, is hard to wrap my head around. As much as I am shocked by today's revelation, I decide not to dwell on it. My mother, the only mother I've ever known, has passed away mere hours ago, and my focus needs to be on what my next step is, rather than the bombshell she dropped on me.
I stop when I realise I'm standing outside of the prominent blue and yellow building, Seattle Orthopedic Center displayed in large bronze lettering. Making my way under the awning, I realise I'm soaked through. The glass doors automatically open, and I walk over to the receptionists desk. I ask for the only person I want—need—right now. My shoes squelch, rain drips from my coat and my hair is hanging in a tangled mess over my face as Garrett wraps me in his arms.
"Bella, what are you doing here? And why are you soaked through?" he asks as he directs me through to his plush office. Grabbing a hand towel from his bathroom, he dries me off as best he can with the small piece of cotton.
My teeth are chattering and I'm certain my lips are blue. I hadn't realised how cold I was until I entered the warm building.
"Sh..sh..she's gone," I manage to stutter out between gasping breaths and the waterfall of tears that have started again, against my will.
"Bella, what do you mean, sweetheart? Is your Mom okay?" His concern is evident in the worry lacing his voice and creasing his brow.
"N..n...no. Sh..she died...this morning." Choking sobs cause my whole body to shake, and Garrett once again encases my body with his own. Once I calm down, somewhat, I hear him call reception, telling them to cancel his appointments for the rest of the day. Glancing at my watch, I realise that most of the day has passed anyway.
Once seated next to me, the questions start. I'm really not coherent enough to answer, but I stammer out "I need to go, to Chicago."
Garrett's bewilderment is clear; Chicago never been raised in any conversation before.
"Bella, honey, you're not making any sense. What's in Chicago? And why do you need to go there now? Your Mom has just passed away. I'm here and your job is here. I'm very confused?" His hands are making soothing gestures across my back and arms, trying to calm me so I can give him the information he needs.
In a faint murmur, I utter, "Garrett, I'm adopted," before everything goes black.
Wand'rin' Star by Lee Marvin
Alan J. Lerner (lyrics) and Frederick Loewe (music)