For three months, Mia’s mom insisted she stay away while her house was being renovated. But something didn’t sit right. When Mia arrives unannounced, she finds the door unlocked, the house eerily pristine, and a strange smell in the air. Mia is about to stumble upon a devastating secret.
The city was just waking up as I drove through its empty streets. Early morning light painted everything in soft hues, but I couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling in my gut. Something was wrong.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. Mom’s voice echoed in my head as my memory replayed all those hurried phone calls and weird excuses. “Oh, honey, I can’t have you over. The house is a mess with all these renovations.”
But three months without seeing her? That wasn’t like us. We used to be thick as thieves, her and me.
I worried about what had changed as I waited at an intersection. Mom had always been house-proud, constantly tweaking and updating our home. But this felt different.
Her voice on the phone lately… she always sounded so tired. Sad, even. And every time I’d try to press her on it, she’d brush me off. “Don’t worry about me, Mia. How’s that big project at work going? Have you gotten that promotion yet?”
I knew she was keeping something from me, and I’d let it slide for far too long.
So here I was, way too early on a Saturday morning, driving across town because I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was terribly wrong.
As I pulled up to Mom’s house, my heart sank. The garden, usually Mom’s pride and joy, was overgrown and neglected. Weeds poked through the flower beds, and the rosebushes looked like they hadn’t seen pruning shears in months.
“What the hell?” I muttered. I killed the engine and rushed to the gate.
I walked up to the front door, my footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. When I tried the handle, it turned easily. Unlocked. That wasn’t like Mom at all.
Fear prickled across my skin as I stepped inside. There was no dust, or building materials in sight. No sign of a drop cloth or any paint cans either. And what was that smell? Sharp and citrusy. The place was too clean, too sterile. Like a hospital.
“Mom?” I called out.
My eyes swept the entryway, landing on a familiar photo on the side table. It was us at the beach when I was maybe seven or eight. I was grinning at the camera, gap-toothed and sunburned, while Mom hugged me from behind, laughing.
The glass was smudged with fingerprints, mostly over my face. That was weird. Mom was always wiping things down, keeping everything spotless. But this… it looked like someone had been touching the photo a lot, almost frantically.
A chill ran down my spine.
“Mom?” I called again, louder this time. “You here?”
That’s when I heard it. A faint creaking came from upstairs.
My heart raced as I climbed the stairs. The quiet felt heavy, pressing in on me from all sides. I tried to steady my breathing as I walked down the hallway toward Mom’s room.
“Mom?” My voice came out as a whisper now. “It’s me. It’s Mia.”
I pushed open her bedroom door, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
There she was, struggling to sit up in bed. But this… this couldn’t be my mother. The woman before me was frail and gaunt, her skin sallow against the white sheets. And her hair… oh God, her beautiful hair was gone, replaced by a scarf wrapped around her head.
“Mia?” Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing.
“Mom? What… what happened to you?”
She looked at me with those familiar brown eyes, now sunken in her pale face. “Oh, honey,” she sighed. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
I stumbled to her bedside, dropping to my knees. “Find out what? Mom, please, tell me what’s going on.”
She reached out a thin hand, and I clasped it in both of mine. It felt so fragile, like a bird’s bones.
“I have cancer, Mia,” she said softly.
Time stopped and my world narrowed down to how dry her lips looked as she spoke and the hollow feeling in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.
“… undergoing chemotherapy for the past few months,” she finished.
“Cancer? But… but why didn’t you tell me? Why did you keep this from me?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t want to burden you, sweetheart. You’ve been working so hard for that promotion. I thought… I thought I could handle this on my own.”
Anger flared up inside me, hot and sudden. “Handle it on your own? Mom, I’m your daughter! I should have been here! I should have known!”
“Mia, please,” she pleaded. “I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to see me like this, so weak and…”
“Protect me?” I cut her off, my voice rising as tears blurred my vision. “By lying to me? By keeping me away when you needed me most? How could you do that?”
Mom’s face crumpled, and she started to cry, too. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Mia. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
I climbed onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much, and pulled her into my arms.
“Oh, Mom,” I whispered. “You could never be a burden to me. Never.”
We sat there for a long time, just holding each other and crying. All the fear and pain of the past few months came pouring out.
When we finally calmed down, I helped Mom get more comfortable, propping her up with pillows. Then I went downstairs and made us both some tea, my mind reeling with everything I’d learned.
Back in her room, I perched on the edge of the bed, handing her a steaming mug. “So,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”
And she did. She told me about the diagnosis, the shock, and the fear. How she’d started treatment right away, hoping to beat it before I even knew something was wrong.
“But it spread so fast,” she said, her voice trembling. “By the time I realized how bad it was, I was already so sick.”
I took her hand again, squeezing gently. “Mom, don’t you get it? I love you. All of you. Even the sick parts, even the scared parts. Especially those parts. That’s what family is for.”
She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and regret. “I just… I’ve always been the strong one, you know? Your rock. I didn’t know how to be anything else.”
I smiled through my tears. “Well, now it’s my turn to be the rock. I’m not going anywhere, Mom. We’re in this together, okay?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay.”
I moved back in with Mom later that week. I also took time off work and called in every favor I could to get Mom the best care possible, even if all we could do was keep her as comfortable as possible.
We spent her final days together, sharing stories and memories, laughing and crying together. And when the end came, I was right there beside her.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” she whispered. “I wanted… I never took you to Disneyland… I promised to take you camping in the mountains… so many promises I’ve broken…”
“It’s not important.” I moved closer to her on the bed. “What matters is that you were always there for me when I needed you. You always knew how to make me smile when I was sad, or make everything better when I messed something up.” I sniffed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Mom.”
Her eyes cracked open, and she smiled faintly at me.
“You’re going to be okay, Mia. You’re so strong… my amazing daughter. I love you so much.”
I put my arms around her and hugged her as tightly as I dared. I’m not sure exactly when she slipped away, but when I eventually pulled back, Mom was gone.
I stayed there for a long time, trying to hold onto the warmth of our last hug as sobs racked my body, replaying her last words in my mind. Trying to keep her with me, no matter how impossible that was.
Saying goodbye to Mom was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I wouldn’t trade those moments I spent with her for anything in the world.
Because in the end, that’s what love is. It’s showing up, even when it’s hard. It’s being there, even in the darkest moments. It’s holding on tight and never letting go.
After 27 hours, his wife gave birth to a baby girl, and the man received the news that caused him to fall to his knees.
This is a love story that is equally lovely and painful. When they first met, fell in love, and had a kid, Liz passed away in childbirth. Matt’s actions following her passing were really inspiring.
High school students Liz Goodman and Matt Logelin first crossed paths at a gas station one sunny afternoon. Both of them were raised in Minnetonka, Minnesota, but their chance encounter marked the beginning of a real love story.
Senior year of high school was when Liz and Matt met. Fireworks sparked when she walked up to Matt after he caught her eye; the two became inseparable… up till the start of college.
As graduation drew near, the high school sweethearts had to face the fact that they were attending colleges in different parts of the country! In contrast to Matt, who remained at the University of Minnesota, Liz was traveling to California.
For this couple, who persisted and stuck together throughout their studies, the distance was nothing. Matt continued on to get his master’s degree at Loyola University of Chicago. He was contemplating getting a Ph.D. when he realized he needed to follow his heart and not his mind.
Matt was aware that he could no longer stand to be so far from his love. In order to be with Liz, he moved halfway across the nation to Los Angeles in 2005, packing his stuff.
From then on, the two proceeded to enjoy their lives to the utmost. While traveling, Liz and Matt explored new places, made memories, and deepened their understanding of one another and the world they lived in. It was just a matter of time until Matt realized that this was it and got down on one knee in Nepal to ask Liz to marry him.
In front of their friends and family, they exchanged vows to love one another forever on August 13, 2005. Seeing these lovers grab life and their love by the horns was exhilarating. For the young couple, everything seems to be going great.
They were not just happier than ever in their romantic relationships, but also in their professional lives. Liz worked as a financial professional at Disney, while Matt was a project manager at Yahoo! in California. The two decided to buy a house jointly to take advantage of their newly discovered financial security. From then, everything just got better.
After two years of marriage in 2007, the couple decided to grow their family, and they were thrilled to find out Liz was carrying their first child!
Since many of Liz and Matt’s friends and family members reside in Minnesota, they were unable to accompany them on their amazing journey to parenthood. The soon-to-be parents made the decision to take action and launched a blog to inform their loved ones of Liz’s pregnancy progress.
The journey appeared bright and joyful for the happy couple as they anticipated their first child, but Liz had a tough pregnancy. The doctors advised her to spend a few weeks in bed since she had excruciating morning sickness.
Matt kept a close eye on her since he was anxious about his wife carrying his child. It was distressing to see Liz, who is often active and energetic, confined to her bed. After that, she was taken to the hospital and told to stay in bed for a few more weeks. Matt monitored their newly launched blog about being pregnant throughout the entire incident. He had no clue what he would soon publish on that specific website.
Since Liz’s pregnancy was considered high risk, she was brought to the delivery room twice, each time at least 7 weeks early owing to false alarms. The doctors kept a careful eye on her since they didn’t want to take any chances.
The baby’s arrival into the world was finally ready. Liz was still two months early, necessitating an urgent C-section. The lives of Matt and Liz Logelin were about to undergo a significant change on March 24, 2008.
The couple welcomed Madeline (Maddy) Logelin into their family after the surgery proceeded without a problem. When she was born, she weighed barely 3 pounds, 14 ounces. Since the new parents were thrilled, Liz only had a brief opportunity to see their beautiful baby girl (photographed). The medical workers hastened to get her to the newborn critical care unit since she was born early.
Due to Liz needing to be kept under observation for a further 24 hours after giving birth, she was unable to hold their daughter straight away. Once everything was through, Liz was prepared and eager to meet her baby girl who was now awake and well. She started to ride in a wheelchair to the ward.
Matt couldn’t wait to have both of his girls in his arms, so he was there to assist his wife in their stroll around the room before they entered the ward. They were about to have the mother-child quality time they had all been looking forward to. Disaster then struck.
When his wife slouched in his arms and muttered, “I feel light-headed,” Matt gently and tenderly helped her into the wheelchair. In an effort to calm Matt, the nurses explained that it was common for women to faint after giving birth.
Matt patiently recalled, “All of a sudden, there’s this ‘code blue,’ and people are running by me.” He broke down in tears. She would never be able to hold her kid since she would pass away in this hospital that day.
Only 27 hours, or slightly more than a day after giving birth to their daughter Madeline, doctors learned that a deadly clot had gone to Liz’s lungs and caused a rare, fatal pulmonary embolism. Liz passed away at the young age of 30, only hours after giving birth to a child, from a fatal embolism. Matt was left a widower one day after becoming a parent.
In only one day, Matt went from feeling on top of the world to fearing for his life. He was devastated. The pregnancy blog was meant to be filled with images of the growing family, but instead, his subsequent essay was only about melancholy.
The first several weeks were the worst Matt had ever experienced. Every Tuesday at exactly 3:11 p.m., his thoughts would return to that fateful moment when his life changed irrevocably because he couldn’t bear to take off his wedding ring. At times, he openly questioned how he would manage in his new life without Liz at his side.
There were challenges in getting back home. There were sour reminders of Liz everywhere Matt turned. When guests asked about the baby’s mother, Matt would frank and openly reply, “She passed on the day after the kid was born,”. Even leaving the house was tough.
The only consolation Matt felt in those early days as a widower was the knowledge that his young daughter needed him and the notion that a portion of his cherished wife lived on in Madeline.
Matt was determined that he would give his daughter the finest upbringing possible despite his sadness. He’s seeking for a way to express his feelings of dread and anguish. He started posting on a parenting discussion board hosted by his hometown newspaper, The Minnesota Star Tribune. But it didn’t end there.
Maddy Logelin turned 10 years old on March 24th, 2018. Ten years had passed since her mother Liz’s terrible death at the same anniversary. Her father, family, and friends have done all in their can to encircle her with love and happiness despite her horrific history.
Matt has made his blog’s details more private as Maddy has aged. The instant Madeline shouts “stop,” it is over. “The plug will be pulled,” he would always guarantee. Over the years, Maddy has learned about her mother via stories and pictures, and her interest in her has only increased.
One day she naively questioned, “Daddy, did you grasp my mommy’s hand when she died?” She frequently asks her father questions about the activities he and her late mother used to do
Despite his best efforts to be honest and explain things to his little daughter, Matt remarked, “What I said will never take away what happened that day.” After the talk, Maddy remarked, “Daddy, I love you,” which Matt later said she understood precisely what he needed to hear. I also love you, Maddy,” he said.
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