3055 hours. 127 days. That was the time she knew Kate. Odd, how such a short period, such a small amount of days could make such a difference in the lives of two people. It did, at least for her.
She remembered how it felt to hold Kate in her arms, to kiss her soft forehead. Yes, what they had was special. She was sure of it.
She remembered how it was when she saw Kate for the first time. It wasn't a beautiful setting, but she knew in that very moment, that the sterile whites of the hospital would never be as wonderful.
Strange how right she had been. Ever since that very first moment, when Kate's eyes met hers through the glass-panel, she had known that she would never meet somebody like Kate again. Ever.
The first weeks were great. But then, as time passed, Kate got worse. She remembered the day she had to rush her to the hospital.
One moment they were having a lazy stroll through the park, the next she sat alone in the bright hallway of the hospital, the very same hospital they had first met.
That was day 106. The 2544th hour to be exact. She remembered how useless she had felt.
No feeling was worse than knowing the person dearest to you was in fatal danger, and yet there was nothing you could do. By now, that feeling had passed.
The space it left was still empty, a blank in the chaos that was her mind at the moment. She felt empty.
Kate had always been a fighter. Even though the prognosis was harrowing, she stood strong. But as the last days passed, it was noticeable that the sickness had taken it's toll on her.
Now she entered the hallway again. Everybody had told her to stay strong, but what can you do when you loose your child? Do you just stop beeing a mother? She just didn't know.
She couldn't even cry. Then, the mother looked as the clock on the wall above her struck the next hour. She knew she had to start counting again. This was hour 1, of day 1. A new beginning.
A new life. Without her child. Without Kate.