MY SON SMILED RIGHT BEFORE SURGERY—BUT SOMEHOW HE MADE ME STEP OUT OF THE ROOM

He was grinning. Not just a polite smile—but a full, carefree grin.

Wearing a hospital gown covered in cartoon ducks, his little legs swinging off the edge of the bed, and a blue cap slipping sideways on his head, he looked more like he was headed to a costume party than preparing for surgery. The nurse asked if he was nervous. He shook his head. “I already did the scary part,” he said.

I smiled, thinking he was just being brave, the way kids do when they sense the adults around them are close to breaking.

But then he looked at me, still smiling, with a sparkle in his eyes that held something deeper. “You have to leave the room, Mom,” he said gently, as if asking to go out and play.

Confused, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I need you to step out, just for a little while. It’ll be easier that way.”

There was no fear in his voice—only calm. But I felt a rush of panic rise in my chest. “No, sweetie. I’m staying with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He gave a small shake of the head. “You’ve done all you can, Mom. Now it’s my turn.”

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