Originally written July 31, 2026

Today’s update.

I fed myself. I showered. I took my meds. I went for my iron infusion.

I came back home, and the grief hit me out of nowhere.

Tomorrow, I have to say goodbye to my mom for the last time.

I don’t know how to do that.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk into that church knowing why I’m there. I don’t know how I’m supposed to look at my mom and understand that this is the last time I’ll ever see her.

For days, I’ve been keeping track of the little things. Eating. Showering. Taking my meds. Getting out of bed. Going to appointments. Doing whatever needed to be done to get through another day.

But tomorrow isn’t just another day.

Tomorrow, I have to say goodbye to my mommy.

And I don’t know how.