My mother steps in front of me and bends forward, placing her lips against Marissa’s forehead much like she did to us when we were children. “My love,” Ma whispers softly and closes her eyes, choking back the tears. “Rest now, my sweet girl. I will love you for all eternity.”
It’s a goodbye.
My mother knows the end is near. I know the moment I’ve been dreading marches closer, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
For the first time in my life, everything is out of control. I’m completely powerless.
Tears slide down the sides of Marissa’s face as she struggles to whisper, “I love you, Mama.”
I close my eyes, sealing them so tightly and wishing I could give my life for hers. I’d do anything to be in that bed in her place, feeling everything she’s feeling, giving her another chance at life, and taking away her pain.
My wife deserves as much. That’s my job as her husband. I’m supposed to protect her.
I’ve failed miserably.
I want to go back, redo every moment, every kiss, every day, reveling in the seconds instead of letting them pass as we waste hours in doctors’ offices and chemotherapy trying to save her life.
She fought for me.
Fought for our kids.
Fought for our future.
But no matter what she did or how hard she tried to stop the cancer growing inside her, nothing worked. Not a goddamn thing made any difference. Our biggest fear was realized, leading us to this moment. This place. This devastating end.
We stare at each other in silence as my mother walks out of the room, closing the door behind her. Marissa’s so frail lying in the hospice bed after months of treatment. Her bones are practically poking through her skin in some spots. Every inch of her body has been ravaged by cancer and the poison they injected her with, trying to buy her more time, but unable to save her life.
“I don’t have much time,” Marissa rasps. “You need to listen to me.” She squeezes my hand with the little bit of strength she has left.
I can’t take the distance between us. Sitting in a chair beside her is too far. I crawl into the bed next to her and lie on my side, careful not to hurt her. She tries to move closer but doesn’t have the energy anymore. I pull her against me.
She peers up at me with her head on my bicep and her blue eyes piercing my soul. I can’t take my eyes off her. I’m filing away these moments because I’m not sure how many more times I’ll hold my wife in my arms.
“There’s nothing you need to say. I love you, baby. I love you more than anything in the world,” I tell her, somehow stopping myself from choking up.
“Angelo,” she whispers, and I wonder if it’s the last time I’ll hear her say my name. She runs her tongue along her dry, cracked lips, and when I lean back to grab the water near her bed, she stops me. “Let me say this.”
I nod but don’t speak.
I can’t.
“We both know I’m dying,” she says like she’s accepted her reality even if I haven’t.
“Baby.” I pull her closer and place one hand on her bony hip and the other against her back, feeling absolutely helpless. “Don’t say that.”
We’ve never said those words out loud. Saying them makes it real, and even in this moment, with her gasping for air, I find it hard to believe.
“You need to promise me…” She starts to cough, and I hold my breath, praying she’ll hang on just a little longer.
My stomach twists and my chest aches because I know the worst hasn’t even yet begun. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk, love. It’s too much.”
The tears that seem to have been in my eyes for months are falling down the sides of my cheeks, but I don’t dare let go of my wife to wipe them away.
“Promise me you’ll love again,” she begs.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Promise me, Angelo. I want our children to have a mother and you to have a wife. I can’t leave this world knowing you’ll be alone.”
