Mothers: A Fictional Narrative

“I know she put pressure on you to do that; she told me the whole story. I know you were just trying to respect her. But you have to believe me when I say you have to listen to me in situations like that. Your mom … she just …” he paused trying to express his thoughts.
“Before your mom got sick, she was so … full of life. So independent. So energetic. It’s really, really hard for her to accept how she is now, because that is not really her. She still feels the same on the inside, but her outside won’t cooperate. So, sometimes she wants to buck the system. She wants to pretend she can, when she can’t. It’s up to us to help her during those times. To help her see that we still see the old her, but at the same time protect her when she needs it. Do you understand?”
Kelly nodded and looked down at her hands. She paused a moment before she spoke. “Dad?”
“Yeah, Baby?”
“Tell me more about her … before. I don’t remember. Every now and then I get these brief flashes in my mind. I think I remember what it was like, but then I wonder if maybe it’s not really a memory—maybe I am just making up a happy thought from things I have seen on TV or at my friends’ houses. Maybe I am imagining what I wish was real.”
“Your mother,” he began, “was the Belle of the Ball. She was beautiful. I fell in love with her when I saw her as the captain of the cheerleading squad. She loved her friends so much. We used to host great parties. She was a friend to everyone. It didn’t matter who they were or what their background was. She just loved people with this special energy that lifted people up.” He paused as if he were suddenly reliving former days, ordinary at the time, but now considered quite