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Gosh, I don’t want to do this.

I wipe my hands on my jeans before sitting on the edge of the bed, back against the headboard, arms stretched out toward him. “Come here, firefly, I have to tell you something,” I tell him, keeping my voice as soft as possible.

His frown fades as he scrambles into my arms, settling against me like he used to when he was little.

“Who loves you the most, bug?”

“You do,” he says softly.

A long sigh escapes my lips before saying, “This woman here, she was our mom.”

His eyes widened for a second, filled with so much confusion and questions. “She… she loved me?”

I think… I think I’m unsure of everything she ever felt. I hope she did. I hope there was a version of her that could’ve.

“Yeah,” I whisper, forcing the truth I wish we had. “She loved you. So much.”

He looks at the picture again and asks, “What’s a mom?”

What’s a mom.

“A mom is someone who feeds you when you’re hungry,” I say softly. “And hugs you when you cry. She stays with you when you’re sick. She makes you laugh, takes you to school, and brings you home. She keeps you safe. She tries her best. Even on the days when everything feels too heavy.”

I keep lying, saying all the things I wished she could have done for me.

He tilts his head. “Just like you?”

“I try, Milo.”

He studies the picture a little longer. “Then, why did she leave if she loved us?”

You can’t tell him that part. He doesn’t get to carry that.

“Sometimes,” I begin, keeping my voice steady for him even as it cracks inside me. “People love so big that they have to become something bigger. Somewhere they don’t get tired anymore.”

He blinks at me waiting for whatever I was about to add.

“She wanted to watch over you all the time,” I say gently. “Somewhere she could always see you. Always protect you.”

“Like, from the sky?” He asks.

“Yeah, baby. From the sky, she became a star for you.”

“Did she hug me a lot?”

“Every time you’d cry, she’d hum a song and hug you tight, and you’d stop and sleep.”

You’re lying Reya.

He leans into me, head fitting perfectly against my shoulder. “But you do that too.”

I pull him closer into my arms, holding him tight, maybe too tight, terrified he’ll feel my shaking. “Of course, I’m your big sis,” I say, voice breaking.

He wraps his arms around my neck before replying, “Thank you for being my mom-sissy.”

A quiet, broken sound escapes me as I try not to cry. He doesn’t even know he’s the one keeping me together. “I love you, firefly, always,” I whisper.

“Love you too.”