A Beautiful Struggle (Beautiful, #4)
Emily McKee
Dedication
For anyone who has ever faced struggles in their life. Know that you are special and important. Most importantly, loved.
“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. Beautiful people do not just happen.”
~Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
Prologue
Patrick – 12 years old
“Baby, come over here.”
Walking over to Momma’s hospital bed, I held onto my curly, brown teddy bear with all my might. I decided to name him Waldo, because I hated never being able to find Waldo in the Where’s Waldo? books. It always annoyed me, and to be honest I think it was a crock of shit. I got him on Christmas just three months ago. It was the happiest day of my life, but also the saddest because it would be the last Christmas I would spend with Momma.
Papa died in a car accident when I was five, so it had just been Momma and me for the last seven years. Until now.
Momma hadn’t been feeling good for the past couple of months. She had to go to doctor’s appointments and she had been sleeping a lot. I knew something was wrong, but I think because I was younger, Momma was too scared to tell me or maybe she was too scared to tell herself.
With shaky legs I walked over to Momma, who had her hand out, waiting for me to join my hand with hers. I tried not to make faces because there was a needle sticking in her hand. However, I put on a brave face for Momma since she was putting on a brave face for me. After all, I wasn’t the one dying.
Wrapping my little hand around hers, I attempted to give a small smile. But how do you smile at someone you love so much and they’re dying right before your eyes? If you could answer that I would have really liked to know then.
Blinking a few times to get rid of the salty liquid forming behind my eyelids, I looked at Momma’s face. The way her once tan skin was now pale. The way her lips used to be a bright apple red. However now they were cracked and dry. The way her eyes were always so bright and cheerful and now the light was slowly fading away.
I tried to look down at the floor because I didn’t want the last memories of my momma to be this. I wanted to remember her the way she was before all of this happened. The way she laughed and brought light to the darkness. The way she came up with these amazing ideas. The way she made something good out of a terrible mess. How she was always making mistakes but they turned out all right in the end. The way she never complained about having to struggle. Or the way she lived with zero regrets from the choices she made.
That’s what I love about Momma best. The way she brought beauty to the awful.
The second my eyes touched the ceramic tile below my black Converse I felt a hand reach under my chin and slowly lift it to meet dull green eyes filled with tears. Momma’s.
I didn’t know what to say. What to do. How do you make someone comfortable who is going to die? Again blinking away my tears and swallowing, I was just getting ready to open my mouth when Momma said, “Sit next to me, baby.”
Quickly handing her Waldo, I carefully climbed up onto the hospital bed and snuggled up with Momma. She was so cold, but luckily I had on a sweatshirt, so I gave her some of my warmth. Wrapping an arm around her waist and resting my head on her chest, I felt tears in my hair. I automatically knew Momma was crying.
I also knew if I looked up she would pretend, so I let it go. I tried to cover up my tears but I knew she could feel the moisture on her hospital gown. We were both pretending. We were both struggling to let go of one another—at least in this life, because I knew she would always be in my heart.
Plus now I knew that Angels really did exist because Momma would be mine.
Wrapping her hands in my hair to comfort me, she kissed the top of my head and said, “I love you so much, my baby boy.”
I used to always hate it when she called me her “baby boy,” but now I cherished it. I held onto it. I cried even harder the second she called me that because at that moment I didn’t know how many more times I would be given the gift of hearing it come from her lips.
Choking back sobs, she said, “I want you to promise me something, Pat. Can you do that for Momma?”
I nodded my head into her chest because I knew there was absolutely no way I could actually answer her with words. She said, “I want you to struggle.”