His gaze flicks away for a moment before arrowing back to mine. "The three of us were happy. We had a good life. It was devastating when your mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. But I thought, okay-we're going to beat this. She's a fighter."
I hate thinking about that particular time. How hard the chemo was on her. How sick my mom would get. The failed treatment plans. Always living for the next set of test results. Always worried about what tomorrow would bring. Then sitting by helplessly as she slowly deteriorated. Becoming weaker. Frail. Until she was a pale shadow of the vibrant, outgoing woman she'd once been.
He slides a hand roughly through his peppered hair as his eyes take on a glassy, faraway look. "It was difficult to watch. Hard to realize, and then accept, that the treatments weren't working, and we were losing the battle."