I planned a road trip with my mom, hoping to reconnect like we used to when I was a child. My dad stayed behind due to heart issues, so it became a special getaway for just the two of us. At first, everything felt warm and nostalgic—just like old times. But it quickly took a turn.

While walking near a lakeside trail, I slipped and fell down a steep slope. My heart, already weak, couldn’t handle the shock. I blacked out and woke up in the hospital, disoriented and alone. Trying to find my mom, I overheard her speaking with a doctor. “She inherited the condition from her father… but I’m not her biological mother,” she said. I felt the world collapse.

Shaken, I confronted her, demanding answers. “We never knew how to tell you,” she whispered. My dad explained that my birth mother left when I was a baby, and my mom—our neighbor—stepped in and raised me as her own. I felt betrayed, confused, and broken.

Before I could fully process it, my heart failed again. Darkness swallowed me. But I woke up, barely, to my dad in tears. “Where’s Mom?” I asked. He choked out, “She gave you her heart.”

She’d sacrificed herself so I could live.

Dad handed me a letter: “You have always been my daughter. Every beat of your heart is my love living on.”

Now, I live for her—every breath, every moment. I may not have her by my side, but I carry her within me, always.