I tumbled off the swing.
He picked me up off the ground, held me close, and kissed my skinned knee. My dad promised he’d always be there when I fell, teasing me that he’d be there even when he was old and gray.
To eight-year-old me, I thought he meant forty-five, at most, because that’s ancient to a child.
Now, fifty-four is too young for him to die. They stole half of his life from him. Stolen from my mom. Taken from Nate and me. So many memories not created. Pictures not taken. Dinners not shared, and holidays not celebrated. So much love not exchanged. All robbed from us by someone we thought was as close as family.
This is the wrong ending to Harold Ward’s life.
As if sensing my growing distress, Havoc nudges me with his shoulder. I swallow the swell of emotion stuck to the back of my throat without tearing my gaze from my father. Havoc must see my barely perceptible nod because he relaxes beside me, as the terrible rhythm of the machines anchoring my father to his body sound around us.
My mother wanted to keep this moment intimate, with only the immediate family present to see her husband off on his next adventure. It would have been easier for her if my grandparents were here, but my father’s parents are gone. Grandpa Vincent’s stroke makes it impossible for him to travel. Grandma Nora offered to come and be with my mother, but Mom, now understanding what a sacrifice it is for a wife to leave her sick husband’s side, insisted she stay with my grandfather.
So, it’s only us—Mom, Nate, Discord, Havoc, and me. Two broken families made whole together through tragedy.
Dr. Barrow is also here, waiting for Mom to tell us she’s ready. Ready to have the doctor turn off the machines and remove the tubes that have kept my dad alive these past weeks.
But it’s time.
His battle is over, and he needs to rest. It’s not fair to force this fight on him because those of us he’s leaving behind can’t bear to let him go. We’ll be okay. For him, we’ll be okay.
It’s so quiet here that every beep and suction of those machines rings out like thunder throughout the room. Nate is next to Mom, and my God, when did he become a man? Before the shooting, he was a snotty teenager. A good kid, but snotty, moody, as we all were until we grew into young adults. He’s poised and mature, standing beside our mother, a pillar of strength. He’s holding back tears, gripping Mom’s hand and stealing a glance at Havoc now and then. I catch glimpses of the boy he was and the man he’ll become, with the two visions overlapping and the person he is now caught somewhere in the middle.
Discord sidles up closer to Nate, and for once, when I look at him, I don’t see a killer. There’s more to him today. He’s dressed head to foot in black, but there’s genuine affection in the way he places his hand on Nate’s shoulder. A wordless brotherly show of support that says everything without saying a word.
I lean against Havoc, stealing some of his strength, and when he drapes an arm around my shoulders, the first tear slips down my cheek. It burns a salty path past my lips. My mom glances at Nate and me, silently asking if we are ready. We both answer with a slight nod, although we’re not.I’mnot. How can someone truly be prepared to say goodbye?
My mother drags in a fortifying breath and notches her chin. A calm settles over her before she turns to Dr. Barrow. “Okay.” She pauses a moment. Nods. Smooths her hands over her perfectly front-creased charcoal slacks. She adjusts her dove-gray blouse. She’s facing this horrible moment with every shred of her dignity. “It’s time.”
Dr. Barrow tucks his lips between his teeth and returns her solemn nod. He walks to the door to call for the nurse waiting directly outside the room. We shuffle aside as she enters, and it’s as if they’re moving in slow motion.
And yet, it’s all too fast at the same time.
I’m screaming for them to stop inside my head, for my dad to wake up. Outwardly, I hope I’m standing as regal as my mom. I want to tear my eyes away as Dr. Barrow removes the ventilator tube, leaving only the heart monitor, but I can’t. They push the machine away, and I want to chase it and drag it back.
Dr. Barrow and his assistant move away to allow us to step forward. We surround the bed, and I’m only vaguely aware of the doctor quietly leaving the room. The nurse walks to the corner to not interfere with our goodbyes, but she remains close enough in case we need her.
“You good?” Havoc whispers to me.
“No.” My honest answer crumbles as it leaves my mouth.
He kisses the top of my head. “I got you, Duchess.” Then to my mom, “Grace?”
My mom tears her gaze from her husband. “I’m fine, Havoc, thank you.”
“Do you need anything?”
Her smile is a clash of conflicting emotions as she regards her family. “I have everything right here. My Harold wouldn’t want us sad.”
“Mom…” Nate starts but stops because he’s just a kid, and there’s so much pain in that one word.
“Come here, baby,” she says to Nate. He turns to her, buries his face in her neck, and finally releases his grief. “We’ll be fine.” She strokes his hair. “He loved us so much, and he knew how much we loved him.”
His sobs echo throughout the room. It’s strange to see Dad lying there without the tubing. For a moment, it’s like he’s asleep, so peaceful. But it’s not like they show in the movies. His chest lifts and falls in sharp struggles as his dying body fights and fails to breathe independently. His limbs twitch, and the nurse rushes over to reposition him. I glance at my mother and see she’s holding her fist against her mouth. Tears river down her cheeks. Nate is still buried in her neck. Discord is now literally holding her up. He’s supporting them both as we watch my dad drift off.
I grab Havoc’s arm and grip it tight as my dad’s struggle eases. It’s painful to watch for us, but for him, I can only hope it’s as if he’s slipping from one dream to the next. I can’t look away. None of us do. We won’t let him fight this last battle alone.
The heartbeat monitor slows, and I keep remembering the day I fell off the swing. When I gazed at the sky and felt like I was flying. Is that what he’s feeling now? Is the wind on his face? Is he finally fearless and free?
