Canada is a better country than Ghana, but mom couldn’t imagine she would suffer so much in a better country. But there is a country better than Canada. There is a country better than every country in this world. There, mom won’t suffer anymore. I don’t want to think about mom not being here. But I want to think about mom being there.

I thought I heard mom call out my name. I stopped to listen intently. But I didn’t hear anything except her hasty footsteps. So I turned on the music again, grabbed my tools, and continued to fix the faucet in the laundry room. Not long afterward, within seconds actually, I heard “Sammy” again. Mom’s voice was so faint, so foreign—it frightened me. I dropped my wrench, hurried up the stairs, and found mom choking to death.

I rushed to mom and wrapped my arms tightly around her. She could barely stand. She could barely talk. She could barely look at me. She was losing consciousness, and I was afraid I was losing mom. I pressed on her stomach four, maybe five times until she breathed again. I stayed with her for the rest of the day, grieving she might not stay with me for the rest of my life.

I’ve always said I don’t miss my father; I can’t miss something I never had. But I’ve always had mom. When I was a boy, I didn’t know I was supposed to have a father until kids made fun of me for it. I didn’t think I needed one. I didn’t know what the word “father” meant. Whatever a father was, I thought mom was that too. I thought she was mom and dad. And in a sense, she was. She worked two jobs and raised four kids on her own. She was the breadwinner and the breadmaker. She disciplined me and she listened to me. She spanked me and made me cry; she tickled me and made me laugh. She is mom and more. If I ever needed my father, I don’t remember when. Mom was always there.

But one day she might not be here. One day she might not be with me. One day we might not laugh together. One day I might not get the opportunity to wrap my arms around her. One day I might not get to protect her and love her. One day I might not hear her voice. One day she might not be here. I thought that day had arrived when I found mom choking to death. And I can’t stop thinking about it.

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