The tightness in my chest makes each breath of air painful, and each exhale causes my body to shake.

My hands tremble as I clench the folded paper. Before I open it up, I find Adele's emerald eyes glossed over, while her husband waves me on, begging me to continue.

"Should I read it out loud?" I ask.

Adele settles her hand benevolently on my shoulder. "No, Sweetheart. We have read that letter a hundred times. It's your turn."

This letter seems important, almost sacred. I try to control my shaking hands, making sure not to ruin the pages.

With a deep breath, I start to read:

Mom and Dad,

If you're reading this, I guess the treatment didn't work as we hoped.

I asked Hannah to save this in case anything happened.

First, I want to thank you. I want to thank you for staying by my side these past few months and always being there for me. I know that is what parents are supposed to do, but I would think it is a little harder when you are watching your child die.

I never once felt alone, I always felt loved, and I never felt like I was less than just because I got sick.

Thank you for that.

There are a few things I wanted to talk to you about. I know that I could have had this conversation with you while I was alive, but I just wanted to keep pretending everything was alright. I wanted to believe I would make it, but God had other plans.

I know that Princeton was always my greatest aspiration. You both nurtured that dream, never letting me doubt my abilities. You never allowed me to give up, even though there were a few times I really wanted to. Thank you for making me the best version of myself, and thank you for helping me make my dream a reality, even if I don't make it there in the fall.

The two of you worked relentlessly to make sure both me and Hannah had our education paid for, and I am forever grateful for the burden you took on to make sure we had no debt once we graduated. I know how blessed I am to have both of you as parents, and I pray that you know how appreciative I am for all that you have done and sacrificed for me over the years.

You, Mom and Dad, are the best.

Even though I won't be around to get the education you saved all that money for, I'm hoping I could still have a say in where it goes, but more on that in a minute.

After I got sick, we made a bucket list, remember? We traveled to Italy and Ireland. I got to swim with dolphins and paint pictures with penguins. I even made it to prom and had one last celebration with all my friends.

My favorite was the day you took my friends and me to get tattoos. I hope that when you look down at yours, you remember how Mac cried like a little Bitch, and we all laughed until we had tears rolling out our eyes.

Thank you for giving me those opportunities because for those I leave behind, they are perfect memories, but for me, they made my life complete.

I have a few more things on my bucket list, some that I have not shared with you.

Please forgive me for not talking to you about this before my passing. I knew deep down that my time here on earth was coming to an end, and I didn't want our time spent thinking about the negative, only praying for the positive outcome we wished for.

With this letter, I am hoping you will help me complete my bucket list. Some things will be hard, but others I pray will make the world a better place. I won't be here physically to make the changes I hope to see, but I'm asking the two of you to do it in my memory.

First, and I know this might not work, I want any viable body part donated to someone who needs it. I don't care if it is my corneas for someone who can't see, my skin for a burn victim, or some random heart valve that someone needs to have replaced. I won't have my second chance, but I want others to have the opportunity to live the life I can't.

I know some parts won't be viable due to the cancer spreading, but if possible, donate them to science. Maybe someone will be able to find a cure for this horrible disease.

I would love to be a part of that.

Secondly, I want you two to take that trip you have been putting off. I appreciate that you stayed by my side until the end, but you two deserve some time away. Grieve how you must, but never feel bad for continuing your life. It's what I want.

I will never know what it is like to lose a child, but I can only assume once I am gone, you will feel like a part of you is missing, an emptiness never to be filled again. When that void tries to take over, remind yourself that I don't want you to feel sad. I want you to remember the amazing and happy times we spent together.

You always said that Hannah and I were the lights of your life, and I want that light to keep shining even when I am not here because I will ALWAYS be with you.

Mom, this one is for you.

I want you to continue working.

When you became an oncologist, I doubt you ever thought that the one thing you fight daily would be the cause of your son's death. Please don't stop fighting. People need you. Not just your patients but their families. Now that you have lived this nightmare, who else would be better to navigate them through this journey? Even though you have always been a fantastic doctor, you now have walked in their shoes. You understand their pain. Please don't let my passing prevent you from doing what you love, and that is to save lives.

Now, here is the big one.

If I don't make it to college, I would love it if you could use the money for greatness.

I have a few ideas, four actually, but I trust you will find the best way to leave an impact in my memory.

My first thought was to set up a scholarship for kids who have beat cancer. What better way to say, 'Fuck you' to the shitty disease than helping its survivors through college? Just because I didn't make it, doesn't mean others shouldn't. Who knows, maybe the money will help someone who finally finds the cure.

The next two are very important. I want you to adopt underprivileged families at Christmas, and I want the holidays celebrated at the children's hospital.

Listen, I know I'm young and had a whole life to live, but at least I had a childhood. Some of these kids are born sick. They have never gotten the chance to truly live outside the concrete walls of the hospital. I want it to look like the North Pole threw up along the sad hallways. I want blue lights and menorahs to light up during those eight nights, and I want families celebrating life and love together.

I have witnessed first -hand how financially draining having a sick child is. I've watched families scrape together money for food and places to stay. It made me realize how blessed I am. I'm just asking that you please take some stress away from them and buy their babies gifts that will, even if it's for one second, help them forget they're sick.

The last and final thing on my bucket list is that I want to change someone's life. I don't know who or how, but I trust that you will know when the time is right.

I hate that I have seen so much sadness. I just hope that someone, somewhere, can take my death and turn it into a blessing.

I've had a lot of time to think. I mean being cooped up in a hospital bed doesn't really allow many adventures, so it was just me my thoughts, my worries, and my fears.

I have come to peace that I won't have a name that goes down in history books, and that one day, my name will eventually be forgotten. Mom and Dad, I wanted to change the world, and it kills me (HA! I'm funny) that I won't get a chance to witness it, but I can still be a part of it. I know the money for Princeton is yours, but my last wish is that you do some good with it in my memory. I want my death to result in something positive.

I love you both so much, and I will be waiting for you both, but please, not too soon. Live the life I didn't get to.

Love,

Connor

Folding the precious, priceless letter as carefully as possible, I make sure not to roughen up the edges as I slide it back in the safety of the envelope.

The thought behind the heartfelt message causes me to sniffle as I try to keep the tears at bay. Connor was an amazing and thoughtful soul. The way he wrote so eloquently, I could feel the powerful meaning behind each word he wrote.

Knowing that his kind spirt is no longer with us causes my heart to clench in sadness as I look up at Mr. and Mrs. Newman. "Is Connor your son?"

A soft, "Yes," leaves Mrs. Newman quivering lips.

Hoping my words will give her some comfort, I reach for her hand and give it a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry for your loss, and this letter just proves how you raised an amazing man and how much he loved the two of you."

"He was a good boy," Mr. Newman says as he tries to wipe the moisture from his face with the palm of his hand. "No. Man. He was a good man who just had to grow up too quickly."

I want to say something, but there are no words to lessen the pain of losing someone so close to you, so I nod my head in agreement.

Bringing my attention back to Mrs. Newman, I ask, "Do you work at Central Memorial by any chance?"

With a soft chuckle, Adele wipes the tears from her cheeks. "With so many hospitals around here, of course, you would pick the one where I spend most of my time."

At her admission, a lump in my throat starts to form, "Did you ever work with someone named Dominic Moreno?"

Mrs. Newman scrunches her brows as if she tries to think through all the people she has helped throughout the years. When she finds what she is looking for her eyes light up. "I think so. Very aggressive pancreatic cancer patient, but incredibly funny. He always had a smile on his face and was always trying to prank the nurses."

That's him.

"He passed away shortly after he was diagnosed, his cancer was aggressive, and we couldn't keep up." As if a light bulb went off in her mind, Mrs. Newman's flings her arms around my body and asks, "Your father?"

Crying in each other's arms, I manage to croak out, "Yes."

"Our lives have been weaved together for years," She sobs as she grips the back of my sweatshirt tightly. "Connor was correct when he said we would know when the time was right."

While continuing to hold me, she turns her cool, wet cheek and faces her husband. "This is it."

"I agree."

Confused, I pull myself from her warm embrace. "I don't understand."

Mr. Newman's face is as still as stone, and only his red, glossy eyes show any type of emotion. "Gemma. Connor died five years ago, and we have tried our hardest to fulfill each of his final wishes, except for one."

Pushing himself away from his desk, Mr. Newman gets up and starts to pace the floor. "When I walked in here this afternoon, I never imagined it would turn out like this. I was ready to call the cops and be done with it, but something told me to hear you out. Gemma," Mr. Newman walks over to me and kneels, his dark brown eyes level with mine. Taking my hand in his, he smiles warmly. "At the age of eighteen, you and Connor were dealt with shitty cards and faced with such difficult situations. We want to help you."

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, I shift my position causing the leather to crackle in protest.

Looking at Mr. Newman as if he grew two heads, my head cocks back so far I feel a strain in my neck. "What?"

Mrs. Newman begins to rub up and down my back gently. "We are hoping you allow us the honor of making Connor's wish a reality. He wanted to change someone's life. I think there is a reason you chose this store today. I don't believe it was a coincidence."

"I...I..." My hand comes up and pushes away the brown fly away hairs that are falling from my bun while I try to wrap my head around what they were saying. As if they had a mind of their own, my legs stand up and wander around the room. "I can't accept your help! I tried to steal from you!"

Sensing my panic, Mr. Newman raises his voice sternly, "Gemma!"

Stopping in my tracks, I turn my body towards him, looking at anything but those dark, intimidating eyes. My gaze falls on a picture on the wall, and my body gravitates towards the photo.

My hand reaches out and traces the face of a young man with each arm slung around the shoulders of Mr. and Mrs. Newman. "Is this Connor?"

"Yes."

Feeling the smooth glass under my fingertips, I continue to take in Connor's smile. He looks so happy and carefree with no sign of letting his sickness bring him down.

He's a true inspiration.

"Listen, Gemma," Mr. Newman's calm voice causes me to turn around slowly. Sitting in the chair next to his wife, he gently rubs the top of her hand with his thumb. "These are your two options, are you ready?" My body starts to rock, and my arms cross in front of my trembling body. I nod my head to tell Mr. Newman he has my attention. "One, we call the cops and press charges."

As soon as the words leave his lips, a sharp intake of air hits my lungs. The images of being taken out in handcuffs once again play in my mind, as well as the dreaded phone call to Mrs. Markus, asking her to watch Dom until I figure things out.

Not being able to control my breathing, I feel myself starting to hyperventilate. My chest is on fire, and my hand starts to rub against my gray sweatshirt, hoping it will alleviate some of the pain.

Adele gets up and runs over and guides me to Mr. Newman's desk chair. "Or, you take this money were about to give you, leave town and start a new life with your brother."

Soft sobs start to leave my body, and I quickly try to wipe them away with the back of my hand. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, Gemma." Mr. Newman smiles and says, "You would be completing our son's final wish, and we would never be able to thank you enough for making that happen."

"I feel like a disappointment, a damn charity case!" My voice comes out a little more disrespectful than I meant, but I can't help it.

I feel as if no matter what I chose, I'd be considered a failure.

"Absolutely not, Sweetheart," Adele soothing voice coos. "You have fought so hard to keep your head afloat while taking care of your brother. Not everyone could do that. I know this is a shock for you. Gemma, look at me." Pulling my attention from my bleeding thumb, the one I have been picking at all afternoon, I look to Mrs. Newman. "You know how you would do anything for your brother?"

"Yes," Comes out so softly, that I'm unsure if she can hear it.

"That's how we feel about Connor. He wanted to change someone's life for the better. This is your second chance."

Mr. Newman walks over to his desk and opens the top drawer, only too pull out what looks like a checkbook. Leaning the book against the hard, wooden surface, he grabs a pen and begins writing.

With a click of his pen, he rips out the small rectangular paper and folds it in half, "Take the money, Gemma. Do something great with it."

Once the check is in my hand, my eyes close, and I try to slow down my racing heart with deep, controlled breaths.

When I open my eyes and look, I almost fall out of the chair. "I can't take this! It is too much!"

When I look back down at the small piece of paper, my chin starts to tremble. "This is more than I've made the past three years. I can't accept it."

Trying to hand the check back, Mr. Newman refuses my request by shaking his hands, "You can, and I am praying you will. Please, do it for Connor and Dom."

Mr. Newman served me a metaphoric punch to the gut by using two boys who should have gotten more out of life. Brining my thumb to my mouth, I start to bite down on its side. I abruptly stand up and start pacing back and forth with my mind running so fast that nothing is making sense.

My feet stop moving, and I snap my attention back to The Newman's. "I could go to college. I can pay you back."

"We don't want you to pay us back, Gemma," Mrs. Newman says with a delicate sigh.

"But this is too much. I came in here, trying to steal a loaf of bread for crying out loud! Now I am walking out with a 100,000 dollar check!" Exhausted, I fall into the nearest piece of furniture and begin to cradle my head in my hands. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Wherever you want to." When I look at Mrs. Newman, her smile is as warm as a hot summer day. "That's the beauty with second chances."

Letting her words sink in, I sigh, "Okay. I'll do it."

Adele jumps up and starts clapping her hands frantically before her husband runs over and wraps his arms around her, twirling her around in happiness.

Placing her feet gently on the ground, the two turn to me and engulf my small body in a tight embrace. Both of them crying, and I can't help but join them.

It has been a long time since I have was sandwiched between two loving people, and it causes my heart to sing a beautiful song, one I could get used to.

"Please keep in touch with us," Mrs. Newman begs.

"Forever," I promise.