“Only God can have the final say. So, if He sees fit, she could very well wake up in the morning and say something. But from doing this work for as long as I have, I think you should prepare yourself for the fact that she may not speak again.” She took a step back and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Now get some rest. She’ll be happy to see you in the morning.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Monica,” I mumbled as I headed to the room I always claimed as my own.
The reality of Aunt Addy dying hit me like a freight train. I’d had months to prepare. I’d spent the summer with her. But as I collapsed onto that bed, I realized I wasn’t ready.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.
I didn’t dream that night. But when I woke up to the smell of bacon wafting through the air, I was pulled into a childhood memory of a six-year-old me waking up like it was Christmas morning because Aunt Addy was coming to visit for the weekend. My whole life, I’d looked up to her for support, for guidance, for inspiration. She had been the first person to truly see me.
And I’m losing her.
Opening my eyes, I stared at the ceiling for a while before I grabbed my phone.
Lamar Anderson:Just checking on you. Give me a call whenever you can. We’re flying out in a couple hours. If I miss your call, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. I just want to hear your voice.
My emotions swelled.
That message pulled at me, but I didn’t text him back or call him. Instead, I put my phone in my pocket and went directly to my aunt’s room.
“Good morning,” I greeted her as I walked in.
Her eyes widened when she saw me. She didn’t try to speak, but she dropped her piece of bacon and reached out her hand. I rushed to her side and gave her a squeeze.
She’d lost more weight. I’d noticed it last night, but seeing her sitting up with pillows propped up behind her and feeling her frail body, I found it was even more noticeable.
I sat down in a chair next to the bed, then put my hand on hers. “Aunt Addy, I just needed to come and put my eyes on you. Monica told me that you’re doing okay but you’re having trouble speaking, so I just wanted to see you for myself.”
She nodded and pulled her lips into a crooked smile.
“I’m going to take a shower and get dressed for the day while you finish your breakfast. Then maybe we can watch a movie. Does that sound okay?”
She gave a singular nod.
“Okay.” I squeezed her hand again. “I love you, Aunt Addy.”
She squeezed my hand back as if to say she loved me, too.
By the time I returned to her room, my aunt was taking a nap with Monica monitoring.
My dad was in the living room.
“Hey, Dad,” I said after our hug.
After I sat down on the couch beside him, he asked, “How are you?”
“I’m okay. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not okay.”
I reached for his hand, and we sat quietly on the couch for a few minutes.
“Your grandparents had me in their early twenties and had Addison ten years later,” my father started. “Ilooked after her while they worked.Iwas her protector.Imade sure she was okay.” He let go ofme to reach for his coffee. After taking a sip, he continued. “But I couldn’t make this okay.”
“No one could make this okay. What matters is that you were always here. Getting on her nerves like big brothers do.”
He smiled. “Did she tell you what happened when I cut the grass?”
I twisted my lips to keep from smiling. “She might have mentioned it.”
