Member-only story
Strength had a Name
We Called Her Mimmi
No matter how she felt physically, I could hear the joy in her voice, the fight in her spirit. Strength had a name, we called her Mimmi.
She wasn’t one to take anything lying down, she had fight, a fight unlike anyone I knew, when everyday of your life is literally a battle to survive, you have no choice but to fight, but she had a great attitude. When others asked her how she’d remained so positive, she’d remind them a negative attitude wouldn’t change anything, unless to make it worse.
Her voice was different this time though, heavier in the words she said, and the ones she didn’t. At that time she would have less than two years left to live, did she somehow sense that? She wasn’t scared to die, but the thought of leaving her young son, her family and friends behind broke her heart. She knew her time was short, I think we all did, even if at times we tried to convince ourselves otherwise.
“I’m depressed.” She said. “I feel like I’ve failed everyone.”
If I’d been in the same room as she had, and not across the country, I would have looked her in the eyes and told her that was so far from the truth, then I would have comforted her with a hug, but she was in Georgia and I was back home in California, so I used my most convincing voice.
