BREATHE THROUGH ME

In a room bathed in long streams of light, cast by the soft glow of a steady winter afternoon.My office still feels the same as ever: the noiseless tones of the walls, the relaxing and therapeutic sound of the Heater, and the shelves with a well arranged books about human behavior and healing. My client was seating across from where I was, listening to her trembling voice as she was narrating her past life that is troubling her. I was nodding my head when needed while I listened to her attentively , folding my hands in my lap. “From the sound of your tone it seems to be a lot has been weighing you down “, I said with a calm tone , professionalized , giving gestures as a form of understanding. This is the reason I became good in my profession as a psychologist. My job is not all about solving problems but only my empathetic nature of allowing others pour out their messy life giving me room to see clearly to their problems. For the five year in my career of practicing, i’ve built a well known reputations and all my clients trust me with their vulnerabilities. Believe me when I say , I am so good at this job. I couldn’t help the distractions by my own mind , considering the dissatisfaction of feelings of haven’t spent time facing my personal life struggles while am here helping others with their problems . I decided to wave the thought out, still feeling blessed at 28, I’ve accomplished a lot —a growing career, a nice and tranquil apartment in the city and the freedom to live life on my terms. I readjusted myself and remained focused on my client, letting myself know this wasn’t about me. At the end of the session, she became more calm, her voice now stable. I could see the gratitude in her eyes as she left, assuring she will come for the her next session. It was ten minutes until my next appointment as I stared at the clock. I said “ I have just enough time to my coffee”. As I reach out for my tea cup, my phone started buzzing on the desk. My face glued on the screen. “It’s Elijah—hope mom is okay”. I Said. Elijah is my mother’s caregiver , almost like family to me. I receives his call on work hours if it’s urgent about mom, other times is after my day routine where he gives me all the information I needed for mom and her activities. I love listening to the sound of his tone, his selflessness , patience and resilience nature. I don’t know why I feel so free and complete when am on the phone having conversations with him. I planned coming back home this Christmas holiday to spend with mom and also have this feeling in check and see where it goes. “Hello?” “Sophia,” Elijah’s deep, steady voice came through. I froze, hoping not emergency again. He paused for a while, then continued. “It’s your mom. Her condition… it’s worse.” I drew myself closer in my chair, Elijah words landed hard like a gut punch. I composed myself trying to breathe even . My mom , Margaret Ellis, who's suffering from early-onset Alzheimer's . I’ve been preparing myself for days like this but it still comes like sudden blow. “What happened?” I asked quietly. “She had a rough night, while struggling she had a big fall and got a broken ankle. She really need to see the doctor. The doctors are saying, she needs a physiotherapist for her ankle and she needs intensive care to prevent worsening the syndrome .” His voice softened. “I thought you’d want to know.” I was mute for some moment finding it hard to swallow while gripping the edge of the desk. “I’ll leave tonight,” I said, already planning what I needed to do before hitting the road. “I’ll be here when you get to Willow Creek,” Elijah said. “Drive safe, Sophia.” I hung up staring blankly at my office while seated in silence. I couldn’t move as my hand rested on the desk. It was one thing to know your parent was sick; it was another to face the reality of what that meant. My mother who was filled with life nurturing me as her daughter with an iron will and a sharp tongue, was slipping away. Driving to Willow creek was kind of too long and not long enough. It takes three hours of open road and every mile brought memories I wasn’t ready to confront. My mother had raised me on her own after having divorced my father because of infidelity when I was five. She was strong—stubbornly so—and never once let me see how difficult life must have been for her. She taught me resilience, independence, and the importance of standing on my own two feet. But our relationship wasn’t that smooth, it’s had its challenges. She was tough on me in ways that sometimes felt harsh, but now, as an adult, I could see the love behind her sharp words. She had given everything to make sure I had the life she never did. And now, the thought of losing her made my chest tighten. Willow Creek's lights appeared on the horizon as the night drew closer. The old buildings, peaceful and quiet small town nestled between rolling hills still looked the same as it always had. It quite a memorable place for me, some are comforting while others I prefer it buried. My mother’s house sat at the edge of town, surrounded by tall oak trees. Elijah smiled faintly watching me stepped out of the car. “She’s been asking for you,” he said as he pulled me into a hug. Elijah’s hugs were always grounding, steady, like everything else about him. “How is she?” I asked as we stepped inside. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s resting now, but… she’s tired, Sophia. Really tired. She’s been fighting, but I think she will be alright .” The words stung me, but I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I want to see her.” My mother’s room was quiet, A dim lit from a lamp was kept beside her bed. The room was filled with soft scent of lace. Looking at my mom, she looked smaller than I remembered , Her once-strong frame was now frail after months of battling illness . She was nicely tucked in the bed. At the sound of my presence, she opened her eyes, I still saw the same sharpness that always defined her. “Sophia,” she said, her voice whispered but steady “Hi, Mom.” I moved to her side, giving her side hug feeling the warmth of her body. I sat down and t took her hand, her hands feel lighter than I can recall and her grip was weaker but the warmth was still there. She smiled faintly. “You came.” “Of course I came,” I said, squeezing her hand gently. “You think I’d let Elijah boss me around forever without checking on you?” “Mom you were so strong when I came for thanksgiving, I miss seeing you strong and vibrant—We will get through this together “ I said. That earned a soft chuckle, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the woman I knew so well—the one who never let life beat her down. Her smile faded, replaced by something softer, more serious. “You’ve done well, Sophia,” she said, her gaze locked on mine. “You’ve built a life to be proud of.” “I just pray so hard that my illness doesn’t reach the extent of not recognizing my baby, I will feel so empty” I blinked back the sting of tears. “I learned from the best.” She squeezed my hand, her touch so light it was almost imperceptible. “Don’t forget to live, though. Really live. Don’t let work become your whole world.” Her words hit deeper than I expected. “I’ll try,” I said, my voice breaking. She smiled again, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Sophia I can’t stop reflecting on the name that always comes to my mind, the name is Emma”. “I think I must have forgotten, it could be one of my friends—if you could remember her Sophia, help me send Christmas greetings to her” She Said. “Good. That’s all I ask.” As she drifted back to sleep, I stayed by her side, holding her hand. In the quiet of that room, I realized something—this wasn’t about remembering what mattered, about showing up, about being present. And maybe, just maybe, it was about finding my way back to myself. I wondered who Emma was , Mom doesn’t have any friend with the name or anyone I know. I quickly prepared everything mom need in a bag, then with the help of Elijah we assisted mom to the car, then we drove to the hospital.