He sniffles back a sob, trying so hard to remain strong for me. “Which is why I need you to make it through this surgery.”
“And I plan to. But if it doesn’t go our way, if God’s plan doesn’t match ours, please know that I will be looking down on you from heaven. I will always be with you, being your light.”
“My angel,” he says softly.
“Your angel.”
EPILOGUE
ETHAN
Six Years Later
“Daddy, do all the people who go to heaven come here?” My daughter, Angelina, points to the tombstone where I just laid a fresh set of flowers.
“They do,” I tell her, taking her into my arms. “Maybe not here, but they get buried somewhere.”
“How do they get to heaven then?” Her twin sister, Angelica, asks, pointing to the blue cloudless sky.
“Your body doesn’t actually go to heaven,” I explain. “Your soul does.”
Both girls scrunch their button noses up, and I chuckle. They’re too young to understand, but when I told them I was coming here, they asked to go, and since Nevaeh looked like she could use a little bit of a break, I agreed to let them tag along.
Angelina and Angelica are four-year-old twins Nevaeh and Iadopted in the Dominican Republic when we went there to visit. After her surgery—where the doctor told us he was able to successfully remove the entire mass—she spent a few months in bed healing. Once she got cleared, she told me she wanted to travel and find ways to help. We spent a few months traveling to different countries and ended up in the Dominican Republic, where my mother mentioned there was an orphanage that could use Nevaeh’s touch. She spent the next two months volunteering there. She became attached to the girls, who at the time were only one year old. Their mother had abandoned them when she found out both girls were born with a heart defect and would need heart surgery.
Nevaeh took one look at them and knew she needed them to be ours. And I agreed. When we were told their names, it only cemented they were meant to be in our lives. I went to the Dominican Republic with one angel and left with three.
Four surgeries later, and they are healthy and perfect and ours.
“It’s a special part of your body that goes to heaven.” I point to their hearts.
“Mommy says my heart is special,” Angelina says. “Will it go to heaven?”
“Not for a really long time.” I bring my fingers to my lips, then press them against my daughter’s tombstone. “Let’s go home and see Mommy.”
“Okay!” Angelica cheers. “Can we get her a chocolate donut? She’s probably hungry.”
I chuckle, taking their tiny hands in mine. “She’s hungry or you are?”
“Both.” She shrugs.
After a quick stop to the donut shop, we head home. When we walk inside, the girls run straight to their mom first, give her a hug and a kiss, and then run to the table to eat their donuts. Nevaeh is sitting on the couch with Blaire. They’re talking and laughing and both holding a glass of chocolate milk. Nevaeh glances at me and smiles, and fuck if my world isn’t that much brighter.
“I’m sorry you had to go alone,” she says.
“I wasn’t alone. I had the best company.” I sit across from her and hand her a bag with a couple donuts in it. “You’re thirty-five weeks pregnant and on bed rest. You heard the doctor. No going out unless it’s necessary.”
“I know, but I wanted to go. Did you see my mom there?” she asks, opening the bag and taking a bite.
Turns out, Susan goes to visit her daughter every year on the day she died, which is the same day my daughter died.
“No, but we left flowers there as well.”
“She’ll love that,” she says through a mouthful of food.
Over the last few years, Nevaeh and her mom have come a long way with their relationship. It’s not perfect, but it’s a lot better than it was when I first met her. Her parents even go to my parents’ place on Sundays for brunch after church.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I see who it is, I tell her I’ll be right back before I answer the call.
