st about fifteen pounds in three weeks and he was more irritable than usual. Everything was wrong for my love; every word, every breath, every gesture. Like before, he took his anger out on the scum bags that rule our streets and made it his personal mission to take in as many drug dealers and abusers as he could. I knew what was going on: He was doing everything he could to take his mind off of Rose. He was filling his days with anger and bitterness, surrounding himself with people that he could do something about. I think it was his way of trying to make up for everything he thought he had done wrong. He blamed himself for her cancer and her misery, as he had always done in the past. He had a way of always blaming himself for everything that went wrong.

The days dragged on and we watched Rose dying a little more each time we went to visit her. No longer vivacious and care-free, the once raving beauty became a mass of skin and bones. Her face gray and ashen, as the cancer ravaged through her weak system. She lied in bed all day now, as she was too weak to even sit up in a wheel chair that Bosco had brought her from the hospital. Mostly, she looked at old photographs of the four of them, wishing that Bosco's dad would come and see her. He never did.

She would spend hours pouring over photos of Bosco and Mikey when they were kids. She talked incessantly about how sorry she was that she had failed both of them. Bosco couldn't take it, and always left the room, claiming that he needed some air. As I watched them from the sidelines, I couldn't help but feel a little resentful of Rose for not telling us sooner. She had shaved weeks off our time with her. Weeks that could have been spent together. And although I did understand, I still couldn't help feeling that life was still cheating us all. We never had the chance to recover from one thing before another was falling on our laps.

I tried to comfort Bosco as much as I could, but for now, he was still trying to be strong. He could accept a hug and kiss, but would shrug out of it as soon as his lips touched mine. He didn't want to be close to anyone at that point in time, but I knew that the branch was about to break and he was going to take a desperate fall.

During her last couple of weeks we just stayed at her place full time. Afraid that if we went home, we would get a call from the nurse. Bosco wanted to be there when she took her last breath. He wanted to be holding her hand, telling her that she was going to a better place and that we would always love her. Her struggle was almost over.

It hurt all of us to see what she had become. A once beautiful woman, was now decaying in front of our eyes. She had never complained about the things that her husband had done to her. She had covered up black eyes and dark bruises, never once thinking that she had deserved anything else. She was a woman of her word. A classic debutante among woman. Strong and full of spit-fire for anyone who dared speak negatively about either of her sons.

She had endured years of abuse from an alcoholic husband who used her as a door-mat, a dishwasher, a sex object and a slave and yet, she could still see the beauty in the colors of the fall or the way the sky looked after a storm. I admired her strength and grieved for her painful memories that would no doubt follow her into the hereafter.

Every day, Bosco would ask her if she wanted her hair done or her makeup put on. She always did, and I would volunteer to try and make her as beautiful as she had been. She would always be beautiful to me, and it pained me, as I took the brush though her once lively head of hair and brushed back the now pitifully thin strands, to know that the end was near.

On this day, Bosco was doing a day shift and I was going in at night, so one of us could be with her at all times. I sat beside her bed reading a magazine when she opened her eyes and held out her bony hand to me.

Alarmed, I scooted over next to her and took her hand. I brushed the hair out of her face that had fallen into her eyes and caressed her cheek with my palm.

"Rose, honey, what's wrong?"

She looked up at me, tears in her blue eyes, pleading without words, but with her heart for me to come near.

"Do you want some water?" I asked. She shook her head and tried to swallow.

"Thank....you." She whispered.

I felt my own eyes tear over, and a lump lodge itself in my throat. Here she was, dying and yet, she was thanking me for something.

"You don't have to thank me for anything, Rose..."

"I...do......you are the best...thing....that Maurice has....ever had......I love ....you...for...it." She managed to say.

The tears no longer could be held, and not wanting to upset her, I turned away and brushed them from my face.

I turned back to her, this woman that I had grown to love in the past ten years, and took her hand again and squeezed it tight.

"I love you, too. Thank you for giving Maurice to me. I promise I will always stand by him." I vowed to her.

"I...wanted...to...be...at...your...wedding....I'm sorry...I...have....to.....miss....it....".

I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned over and kissed her pale cheek and gathered her into a fragile hug.

When I could no longer control my own emotions, I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

I carefully shut the door and went to sit down on the tub. I looked around the small room, gazing at the wall. The room was done in her favorite color. Rose. Everything in the room was immaculately done, right down to the matching towels and face cloths. I don't know why it upset me so much to be in that room, but it did.

I found myself sinking down on my knees and really starting to bawl. It started out slow and gradually moved to intense sobs that wracked through my body and left me feeling weak. I hadn't realized how much I was going to miss her and I wasn't sure how much longer that Bosco or I could hold on. This pain was becoming to much and with every day that passed, we were sure it was her last. It was a constant state of nervousness, compounded with the realization that every breath could be her last.

There was a light knock on the door and then another. I quickly got up off of the floor and wiped my face on a towel.

"Come in." I said, trying to make my voice sound normal.

I turned on the taps and splashed my face with cold water as the door opened and Bosco walked in.

"You're not ready for work?" He asked in a soft tone.

He gazed at me in the mirror and saw how red my face was and the tear stains that still lined my cheeks. He walked over to me and put his arms around my waist, squeezing me tight.

"She have a bad day?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice, and tried to keep myself in check. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him by seeing me cry.

I turned to him and buried my head in his strong shoulder. He held me, and it seemed to me that his own strength reserve was getting pretty low. He needed to recharge or at least talk about how he was feeling. He let go of me, soon after, as if he couldn't trust himself to be in an embrace, for fear he would break down.

He cleared his throat and glanced around. "Well. You should get goin; I guess."

"Bosco. I think we should cancel the wedding." I said, as I smoothed my hair back out of my face.

"Cancel the wedding? Why?" He asked, confusion written all over his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No. I mean cancel the wedding date on the 31st. I think we should get married here. I think we should do it soon. Your mother needs to be there." I said.

Tears sprang into his eyes immediately at what I was implying. He turned around and headed for the bathroom door, ignoring what I had said.

I stepped forward and grabbed his hand. "Bosco. She told me that she wants to be there. If we don't do it soon, than she won't have the chance." I pleaded.

I tugged his hand until he turned around. I could tell that he was about to break. He didn't want to show his pain and heartache to me. He was wounded and he wanted to forget about what was happening and push it aside, but I feared if he didn't listen to me, that it would be too late and he would never forgive himself for it.

His face was red, his eyes were wattery and he was biting down on his lower lip ferociously. He swallowed and shook his head, trying to deny it.

"She'll be there on the 31st. You'll see. She'll be there if we have to get an ambulance to take her."

I put my hand on his cheek and made him look into my eyes. I needed him to understand.

"Bos, do you want her at our wedding?" I asked as gently as I could.

"Of course! What kind of question is that...I...."

"Bosco, we need to do now....like tomorrow or the next day. She...doesn't....have...time."

He took in what I said and nodded his head. "Ok. How should we do this?" He asked, defeated.

"I'll take care of it when I see Sasha and Ty tonight. We can pick up our tuxes and my dress tomorrow. I just think we should do this for her."

He cringed and looked at me. "You'd really have your wedding here, under these circumstances? That's really not what you had planned. You wanted the whole romantic wedding this time, with the flowers and the church and the limo....this isn't that."

I stepped up to him, and wrapped my arms around him, hoping that he would understand how much I loved him. "I don't care about any of that. I want to marry you and I can't think of a better gift to give your mother than this. I love you and it doesn't matter where I marry you as long as I marry you."

He finally accepted my hug and held me tight. I felt him slipping until I was sure that he was going to surrender his emotions and let it all out, but he didn't.

He wiped his eyes and mumbled 'thank you' and went in to check on Rose.

I gathered up my things and got into my uniform. Before I left, I went back upstairs to say goodbye.

I opened the door to Rose's room and peeked in.

The sight before me pricked my heart like a needle popping a balloon. Bosco was curled up in bed with his mother, stroking her hair and softly singing a song that she had sung to him when he was a boy.

His tenderness and love evident as he sang to her. She held on to his hand, as if for dear life as she slipped into sleep once again. I realized at that moment that he was saving his grief until after she was gone. As long as she was still breathing, she was still there and that's all that mattered to him. I wiped at my eyes again, and closed the door.

All the way to work I could hear his strained voice croaking out that beautiful song.

Hush little baby

don't say a word

momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird

If that mocking bird won't sing

momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring.........