Back then, work had seemed more important. But after arriving at the hospital and finding only an empty bed, I’d vowed, in future, to always be there for the people I cared about. Even if it meant some inconveniences—like blowing a contract. Besides, Mama G had done a lot for me in the year I’d known her. When I’d been laid low with the flu and fever for a week last winter, lying out in bed like an invalid, she’d sponged my head and fed me hot chocolate. I suspect the cocoa was laced with "medicinal" herbs—it had tasted a little odd. But it had been one of the few things I could choke down, and it was made with love. You can’t buy medicine like that.