From Mother… With Love

Minta Jackson was a young girl of sixteen, whose life was tethered to the soft embrace of her mother, Marry Jackson, and the steady, comforting presence of her father, John Jackson. They lived in a small, cozy house by the sea, where the waves would gently crash against the shore, as if singing lullabies to Minta when she was younger. Life had always seemed perfect, simple, and safe.

But that peace was about to be shattered.

Marry Jackson had been unwell for some time, but neither Minta nor her mother had a real understanding of how serious the illness was. Minta would often find her mother tired, sometimes coughing in the mornings or holding her chest in pain, but it never crossed her mind that something could be seriously wrong. Her mother, ever so gentle and kind, insisted on pushing through it. She didn't want to worry Minta.

Her father, John, on the other hand, was increasingly quiet. His face often wore an expression of concern, something that Minta didn’t understand at first. He tried to keep the family’s spirits up, but the weight of the situation had begun to show in his eyes. He was afraid, and Minta knew it, but he said nothing.

Then, one afternoon, the doctor had given John the news. It was a verdict Minta would never forget. The doctors had told John that his wife, Marry, had a fatal disease—a rare, aggressive condition—and there was no cure. The prognosis was harsh: three months. Three months until the inevitable. The words haunted John’s every thought, but he didn’t know how to tell Minta.

How could he break that to his daughter? The girl who loved her mother so much, who was so innocent, so full of life? It seemed like an impossible task. But deep inside, John knew he couldn’t keep this secret forever.

On one crisp morning, John decided they would go to the beach. He didn’t know why he picked that day, but something inside him told him that it was time to face the truth. He hoped the ocean might help. Maybe the open sky, the wind, and the sound of the waves would offer some solace for both him and his daughter. He asked Marry to come, but she refused. She was too tired, too weak, though she smiled faintly, encouraging her daughter to go with her father.

Minta, ever the thoughtful and sensitive girl, noticed something in her father’s face that morning. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by a sadness that made her chest ache. It wasn’t the same kind of sadness she had seen when they had lost their dog last year or when a family member had moved away. This was deep. This was sorrow that reached all the way down to his soul. She had always been observant, had always been responsible beyond her years, and now, in the quiet morning light, she could sense that something wasn’t right.

As they walked along the shore, Minta found herself lost in her thoughts. She remembered how she’d been accepted into a prestigious boarding school, and how, when the time came, her father would likely send her away. He had always supported her dreams, but today, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking that this might be the last year they would spend together as a family. Her mother’s illness had been a shadow hanging over their home, but today, it felt even more real than ever.

John was walking beside her, lost in his own troubled thoughts. His heart weighed heavily, and he couldn’t bear the idea of keeping the truth from his daughter any longer. The sea breeze swirled around them as John finally stopped and turned to face Minta.

“Minta,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion, “there’s something I need to tell you… something about your mother.”

Minta looked up at him, a quiet sense of dread creeping into her chest. “What is it, Dad?”

John hesitated. He wanted to protect her from the pain, but he knew she deserved to know the truth. He had to let her understand the reality of what was happening. He took a deep breath, his heart racing as he spoke the words that had been so hard to say.

“Your mother… she’s very sick. The doctors... they say she only has a few months left. It’s a fatal disease, and there’s nothing they can do.”

Minta’s world seemed to freeze. Her mind couldn’t quite process the weight of the words. She felt a sharp sting in her chest, but somehow, she didn’t cry. Her mother’s illness, the thing she had sensed but never fully understood, had been confirmed. Yet, Minta didn’t let the tears come. She saw the pain in her father’s eyes, the sorrow etched into his face. She realized how much he was suffering too, and in that moment, she made a choice. She would be strong. She would not weep.

Instead, she reached out and gently placed her hand on her father’s arm. “It’s okay, Dad,” she said softly. “I’ll be strong for you, and for Mom. We’ll get through this.”

John’s eyes welled with tears, but he was proud of her, proud that she was able to stay so composed in the face of such overwhelming sorrow. They stood there in silence for a while, letting the wind wash over them, as if the ocean could somehow carry away their grief.

They returned home that afternoon, and Minta, despite the heavy sadness in her heart, suggested they go shopping for Christmas gifts. It was a tradition, something that had always been important to her mother. Her mother smiled at her suggestion, agreeing to go with her daughter despite how tired she was. Minta could sense her mother’s exhaustion, but she saw how much her mother loved her, how much she wanted to be part of these small moments of normalcy before everything changed.

Days passed, and the inevitable came. Minta’s mother was admitted to the hospital, her condition worsening quickly. Marry passed away within weeks, just as the doctors had predicted. Minta didn’t cry at the funeral. She couldn’t. She knew her mother wouldn’t want her to. Instead, she stood tall, holding her father’s hand, taking on the role of the strong one. She took care of the house, ensured that her father ate, and helped with all the little tasks that made their home run smoothly.

She spent many nights sitting in the blue chair that had been her mother’s, the chair by the window where her mother would sit and watch the sunset. The chair now felt cold and empty, but Minta didn’t leave it. She could still feel her mother’s love in the fabric of the chair, and she promised herself that she would always carry that love with her, even if her mother wasn’t physically there.

Minta, at just sixteen, had become the strength her father needed, a young girl who, in the face of the most heartbreaking loss, chose to be a beacon of hope and love. The love of a mother never truly leaves, Minta realized. It lives on in the quiet moments, in the strength we find in the face of hardship, and in the way we choose to honor those we’ve lost.