My Daughter’s Classmates Held Prom in Her Hospital Room Because She Couldn’t Attend Due to Her Illness – Then One of Them Handed Me an Envelope and Said, ‘Here’s the Real Reason We’re Here’
“Sorry, honey. Didn’t mean to startle you,” I quickly apologized.
“It’s fine, Mom.” She gave me her tired smile. “Just girl stuff.”
I nodded as if I understood. Teenagers needed their privacy, even sick ones. Especially sick ones, maybe.
Carol’s phone buzzed on the tray. The name Daryl lit up the screen before she turned it face down.
Daryl had been her best friend since middle school, the kind of boy who held doors open and remembered birthdays.
“He’s checking on you again?”
“He’s just being Daryl.”
I smiled and squeezed her foot through the blanket. “He’s a good one.”
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Carol’s eyes drifted to the window. Prom was four days away.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Do you think I’ll get to go?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, of course. The doctors were optimistic, anything to fill the silence with hope. I’d decided that was my job. Hope was the one thing I could still hand her.
“Do you think I’ll get to go?”
“You’re going to that prom, my baby. One way or another,” I lied, giving her and myself false hope.
Carol looked at me for a long moment, and something passed behind her eyes that I couldn’t quite read. Then she nodded and reached for my hand.
My heart broke every time I watched her grow weaker after each round of chemotherapy.
That night, after she fell asleep, I noticed she’d tucked another folded letter into the back of her journal.
My heart broke every time I watched her.
***
Two days before prom, another round of chemotherapy made Carol feel even worse.
I drove her back to the hospital with shaking hands while she rested her cheek against the cool window. She didn’t say much; she didn’t have to.
My daughter was admitted for the night, then the next, then indefinitely.
“I won’t make it, will I, Mom?” Carol whispered from the bed.
I sat beside her and smoothed her thin hair back from her forehead.
“You’re going to make it to plenty of proms, baby. This is just a delay.”
She turned her face toward the wall.
I drove her back to the hospital.
