"Hey, Dad," I said over the phone. "I'm on my way to the market. Is there anything we need?"
"Um, I think we need more blueberries. And sugar. And we're almost out of blueberry muffins, so hurry back, please."
"Okay, Dad. Love you."
As I headed to the market, I started thinking about how my dad and I got to this point. Us working together. Just the two of us. I loved every minute of it, but we really missed my mom.
She had opened the bakery when I was little. Baking was her passion, and Dad supported her dream every step of the way.
She struggled for a few months, but Dad's job helped her out a little. After about six months, it got really good business, and soon it was thriving.
She loved baking for other people, and she enjoyed every day working at the bakery.
But soon all of that changed. One summer afternoon, after my 10th birthday, my mom felt really sick. She complained of having a really bad headache, and she felt nauseous.
She didn't wanna stay home when she had the bakery to take care of, so she took a few Tylenol and drank some Pepto Bismol. Then she laid down for a few hours while my dad and I cleaned up.
Whe she woke up from her nap, she felt better. But over the next few days, the symptoms came back again. She tried everything to relieve them, but nothing helped.
So Dad decided to take her to the hospital. Whe we got there, he filled out her paperwork, and the doctor took her back to run some tests.
"Dad," I said with a scared look on my face. "Is Mom gonna be okay?"
"Of course she will, sweetie. Don't worry." He took my hand and held me close.
After about an hour, the doctor came out to talk to Dad. As I watched them talk, I noticed a look of sympathy on his face. When Dad came back, he didn't look happy.
"D-Dad, what's wrong with Mom?"
"Honey, um, she has cancer."
"Well, uh, it's when your body gets really sick, and it fights really hard to get better. And it takes a lot out of you. Your body gets really tired trying to make itself better."
"Is Mom gonna die, Dad?"
"Oh, I don't know, sweetheart. But let's pray that she doesn't, okay?"
"Okay, Dad." We held hands and prayed Mom would get better.
But she didn't. All the chemo and medicine she took made her really sick, and she got really tired. She tried to take care of the bakery, but it took too much out of her. Finally, her body gave up, and she died in her sleep.
A few weeks after the funeral, Dad decided he would take care of the bakery. So he quit his contracting job and took it over.
At first it was hard for him, but as soon as I got old enough, I started helping him out. Continuing Mom's dream was something he felt he had to do, and I felt like she was with us every day.
When I got back to the bakery, I saw Dad's hands were full with customers, and we had run out of muffins.