The Eve of A Broken Family1
Adelaide Trevelyan, my mother-in-law, was in the final stages of cancer, experiencing a brief period of lucidity. She wanted to take a family portrait with me and her daughter, Yedda Hewlett.
I had arranged for a photographer and picked out our outfits—everything was set. But as soon as Yedda received a phone call, she hurriedly left.
We waited until dusk, with Adelaide holding on by sheer will.
Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked me, "Is she back? Has Yedda come back?"
As I made the thirty-third call to Yedda, Adelaide could hold on no longer and quietly passed away.
At that very moment, Yedda's male best friend posted a photo of the two of them on Instagram with a caption: [It's great to have someone take care of you when you're drunk.]
After the funeral, I was overwhelmed with despair and dialed Yedda's number once more.
Before I could say anything, she answered, irritated. "How many times are you going to nag? I'm just changing clothes. I'll be there soon. Just wait there with my mom."
1
The thought of Adelaide passing without fulfilling her last wish felt like a stab to my heart.