We left the hospital at about noon. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining bright upon us as we drove away. I was devastated yet also very relieved. It was finally over. The agony was over. The unknown was over. I think this was what troubled me the most. The fear of the unknown. Not knowing if Millie was going to survive. Not knowing what her life would be like. But the ride down the 405 freeway made me realize none of that mattered anymore. She was gone. She was in heaven now. I didn’t have to live in hospitals anymore. I didn’t have to live with the uncertainty of knowing many more surgeries were ahead of us. Instead, I knew that she was resting now. Which made me feel at ease.  

Leaving her behind, in what I assumed was a cold morgue, hurt deeply. I wanted her out of there. That’s probably the first time I felt as if I had abandoned her. I left her alone. She wasn’t even in room 5441 anymore. There were no nurses tending to her anymore. Her bed had become a steal box. Yet, in the middle of that turmoil my brain was going through, I was so glad I didn’t ever have to return. 

The anger was still very much present. I notified my closest coworkers about her passing. The message that stood out the most was from one of my managers. He said, “Oh you poor thing. I’m so sorry.” Having kids of his own, he understood what I was going through. 

When we got home, Gustavo led me to the couch. It was nice seeing Mia. It felt good to hug her. A real little person. Since my parents’ house and my brother’s house are in the same property, they were all there when I got there. They greeted me with warm smiles but none addressed the situation. They didn’t ask how I was feeling. They knew exactly how shattered I was. Instead, what we did was order food.