"Where my food is, my sons will follow, so I am sure they will accept the invite, but as long as you are absolutely sure, Marion. I don’t want to stress you out any more than you are."
"I’ll make sure Journey and Melody are home too. It sounds like a lovely distraction for us," Mom says, staring past Elizabeth.
"Mom, are you sure you’ll be up for it tonight?" I ask her again.
"Yes," Mom answers me, then takes Elizabeth’s hand. "You know your son, Brett, was darling enough to bring us dinner last night."
"I know. I thanked him for helping out. He’s a good son," Elizabeth says. "He has a heart of gold."
And apparently, a bad memory, I’d like to say.
"He certainly does," Mom agrees.
"Well then, I better get home and prepare some comfort food. Visiting hours are over at seven, right?" Elizabeth asks.
"Yes," Mom responds.
"We’ll be over around seven-thirty. Does that sound okay?"
“It sounds perfect." Mom tries her hardest to look upbeat, but it doesn’t show well through the pain written across her face.
Elizabeth offers Mom another hug, and Bill places his hand on my shoulder. "If you need anything before then, give us a call," he says.
"Will do," I tell him. "Thank you."
We watch as they step into the elevator and as the door is closing, I swear I hear Elizabeth say: "Brett will be happy to hear—"
Brett will be happy to hear what?
12
I thoughtthe day would crawl by minute by minute, while I watched the clock on the hospital room wall, but the sun melted into the trees before I realized I had skipped lunch. Nurses and doctors were in and out of the room so often there wasn't much time to think.
Dad only opened his eyes a few times, long enough to tell each of us how much he loves us, but he’s so tired, it’s hard to stay awake.
We took turns holding his hand, running the sides of our fingers down the length of his cheek, nuzzling our heads against his neck.Moments I’ll miss.
A nurse popped her head into the room, and through a whisper, informed us visiting hours were over, but said we could stay if we preferred. I think we all struggled with the decision to stay or leave, but Mom suggested we all get some rest. Therefore, we said our maybe forever goodbyes.
My claustrophobia in the elevator feels worse on the way down than it did on the way up. Journey must be feelingthe same, too. Her face is pale, and she’s swallowing hard and loud enough to hear.
"I’m not doing this dinner thing tonight. I can’t," Journey says. "Dad won’t be there, and I just can’t."
She has a point, butour other option is to go home and stare at one another with tears and sadness. A diversion sounds healthier, especially for Mom. "That’s okay, honey. I understand. I considered those facts too, but—" Mom tries to justify her feelings.
"You should enjoy the dinner, Mom," Journey says. "You’re not doing anything wrong. I just—I have a lot of work to catch up on too."
"I know," Mom tells her. "Melody, you must be behind with your work too." Mom’s head turns in my direction.
"I’ll figure it out," I tell her.
Journey is a loner and needs to wallow, heal, and handle pain on her own, or she’ll explode. I was taken by surprise after her offer to have breakfast so early the other morning, but I think it was more for me than her.
We’re all drained. We all need to cope somehow.
"Are you going to be okay tonight?" Journey asks me. I know she isn’t trying to be offensive to Mom, but Mom takes my hand as if asking me to ensure Journey that I will be fine staying with Mom.
"Of course," I tell her.
