My mom’s been dead two years. Her “best friend” is now my stepmom, and it all blew up the night she threw a party on my mom’s death anniversary.My mom died from cancer a year ago.One month we were arguing about how I never folded towels right. Two months later a hospice nurse was explaining morphine to me while my mom stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry.She was 49.My stepmom didn’t come out of nowhere.Her name is Carol. She was my mom’s colleague. I grew up seeing her at our kitchen table, kicking off her heels, gossiping about work, drinking coffee out of our mugs.

She hugged my mom when Mom got her diagnosis.”You’re so strong,” she said. “You’re going to beat this. I just know it.”My mom would smile and say, “We’ll see,” in that dry way she had.But there was always this flicker in her eyes when Carol’s name popped up on her phone. Not jealousy. Worry.My mom didn’t beat it.She went from “early stage, lots of options” to “we’re talking months” so fast my brain never caught up. One day she was making lists. Two weeks later she was too weak to sit up.She died on a Tuesday afternoon while I was holding her hand.After the funeral, my dad walked around like he was underwater. He’d stand in the kitchen with a mug he never drank from. He’d sit on the couch and just stare at the TV, not even turning it on.