Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Even those who were sad, crying and exhausted, to me shone bright with a warrior’s inner strength.
Just like Poppy had.
We stopped at the final room. Susan turned to me. “This is Tala’s room.” My heart sank, and I controlled my breathing. I didn’t want her to see me upset. She was going through enough.
“I’m ready,” I said, and I straightened my spine. Susan entered a private room, and I followed her inside. Tala was lying on the bed. She was frail, with short hair. Luggage was beside her bed, and she was dressed in everyday clothes. And when she saw me, her smile was blinding.
“Tala,” Susan said. “How are you feeling?” She spoke in English this time.
“Good,” she said, and then she turned her gaze to me again. My heart stopped when I saw she had green eyes. My bottom lip wobbled, but I took a deep breath and held myself together. “Are you Savannah?” she asked, a slight accent to her voice. It was so beautiful.
“I am,” I said and moved to shake her hand. Tala gripped on tightly to my hand.
“Dr. Dela Cruz told me I would have a visitor today. From America.” An excited smile spread on her lips.
“I’m so honored to meet you, Tala,” I said, making sure my voice was steady.
“You want to be a doctor?” Tala asked.
“That’s right.”
“Why?” she asked, and I felt my blood cool.
I looked up to Susan—Dr. Dela Cruz—and she nodded in encouragement. Then she said to Mia, “Shall we leave the girls to chat for a while?”
Mia glanced at me, and I nodded. Mia and Susan left the room, and Tala patted the edge of the bed. “Please, sit,” she said. “My family are coming soon.” She smiled. “I’m going home today …” She trailed off, and I sat down beside her. I knew why she was going home. For the same reason Poppy had near the end.
Tala never let go of my hand. It was weak yet held so much strength.
“Why do you want to be a doctor?” she asked again. “For cancer patients?” she tacked on.
“Yes,” I said. “Children’s cancer, specifically.” She studied me and waited for the second part of her question to be answered. “I had an older sister …” I said and really fought to keep my voice steady and blinked away tears from my eyes. “She had cancer—Hodgkin lymphoma. Like you.”
Tala’s face grew serious. “Where is she now?” she asked, and my soul cried.
I stared into her forest-green eyes. “In Heaven,” I said, and I let myself believe that with my entire heart.
Tala’s fingers tightened in mine. She looked down at our joined hands. Then she said, “I’m dying too.” Those three words caused an almighty rip in my soul.
“I know,” I whispered and held her hand tighter.
A wash of tears made her green eyes shine. “I try not to be scared. But sometimes …” She swallowed, a single tear falling from her eye and drifting down her cheek. “Sometimes I can’t help it.”
“It’s understandable,” I said and shifted closer to her. “What you are facing is the hardest thing a person can face.”
“Was your sister scared?” she asked, then said, “What was her name?”
“Poppy,” I said. “Her name was Poppy.”
“Poppy,” Tala said, sounding out the name. She smiled. “I like that name.”
She waited for me to answer her previous question. “Poppy wasn’t scared,” I said. “At least, she tried not to be.” I thought of Poppy’s resilience, her smiles and the innate happiness she’d radiated right up until her final breath. “She was so happy. She loved her family, and her boyfriend, fiercely. She loved life … right up until the end.”
Tala turned her head and stared at a picture beside her bed. There was a Filipino woman in it, a Caucasian man, and a young boy and girl. And of course, there was Tala, her arms wrapped around them all. “I love my family too,” she said, running a finger over their smiling faces. Turning to me again, she said, “I think I’m most scared of leaving them behind.”
“Poppy was too.” I wrapped both my hands around hers. “But we are okay,” I said and felt something shift inside of me. I was getting better. For the first time in four years, I had hope that I was getting better. That I would be okay. I smiled. “And I still talk to Poppy,” I said. “At her grave near where we live. And I talk to her in the stars.”
“Stars?” Tala asked.
I gave her a small smile. “I like to think of her shining down upon me, living among the stars.” A tear fell down my cheek. But it was a happy one. I was remembering Poppy with happiness. “She shone so brightly in this life, I knew she could only shine brighter in the next.”