Page 87 of Wrecked
The door in front of me opens up, and Ruby walks through. When she glances up and sees me, her head tilts to the side, and her face contorts into a look of sympathy. Everyone loves Walter, but no one has a relationship with him like I do. The other nurses know what he means to me, even if we aren't close friends. “I'm sorry, Jasmine.” Reaching up, she rubs my arm a couple of times, but I don't even feel it. My limbs are numb from the shock of what's happening. “You'd better get in there.”
Trailing my eyes from her to the door in front of me, I hesitate for another moment before forcing my legs to move. Slowly, I push through the door, my eyes first landing on a younger man sitting next to the bed holding a baby and then on to a red-headed woman standing with a toddler by the window with the curtains drawn closed. Weston and Ella. His family made it.
I almost break out into a sob at just seeing them here, but somehow, with a strength I didn't know I had, I manage to hold it in. He has been longing to see his family for some time, especially his grandchildren.
“There she is.”
Those words.
They came out quieter than usual and with an added strain to his voice, like it takes effort to speak. I finally drag my eyes across the room to look at him, landing on his pale face. Seeing him looking so frail and the realization that it's the last time I'll hear him say those words to me has the sob I was so desperately trying to hold in breaking through.
“Can you give us a minute?” he asks his son.
Weston gets to his feet, holding the baby close to his chest, maybe finding comfort in his daughter whose life is just beginning. “Sure.” He holds his free hand out to his wife, and she takes it, both making their way toward the door. He offers me a sad smile with red-rimmed eyes as they pass me.
“Jaz,” Walter calls, turning his hand palm up for me to come and take.
I don't hesitate now, crossing the room quickly and taking his hand in mine, lifting it to my heaving chest. “Hey, Walter,” I barely choke out.
“Come here.” He tugs the hand I'm holding and slightly lifts his other one, offering a hug.
Maneuvering so that I'm half sitting on the bed, I lean down and wrap my arms around him, gripping him like if I just hold on tight enough, he won't leave me. His body is frail and fading, but I still feel like a little girl in his arms. Like I'm seeking comfort from a parent or a loved one when I've been hurt. My head rests on his shoulder while my uncontainable tears run down my cheeks, wetting his gown.
“Shh,” he coos, running a shaky hand gently over my head. I know it's taking a lot of effort for him to do it, which only adds to my sadness. “You'll be okay.” I shake my head against his shoulder. How can I be okay when I know this kind, wonderful man, who has been like family to me, will no longer be in the world? Who's going to give me that fatherly advice? “Yes, you will, sweetheart.” His hand moves from my head to rest on my cheek, and my eyes squeeze shut at the tender touch. “And I'm glad that I mattered to you and left a mark on your life, enough that you're crying now. But don't let it be a bad mark, okay? Don't remember me from today.” He moves his hand again, running over my head a few more times. “I'm going to die happier having met you. You're like the daughter I never had.”
I lift my heavy head to face him, swiping at the tears on my face as another sob breaks free. “You're making me cry more.” His gown is probably soaking wet by now with all the tears that keep falling.
He smiles softly at me, barely managing to lift his hand to wipe a tear from my jaw. “How about you tell me the weather?”
Closing my eyes, I try to fight against the pain ripping through me, tearing me apart from the inside. A thickness in my throat makes it hard to breathe, let alone talk, but still, I nod my head, lowering it to his shoulder again and then stare ahead at the curtain-covered window. Behind it, dark, gloomy clouds cover the entire sky, with cold rain falling in sometimes heavy waves before returning to a light sprinkle. I suck in several deep breaths before releasing them slowly, trying to gain enough control to speak.
“It's a beautiful, sunny day,” I tell him quietly, more tears building in my eyes so that I can hardly see anything anymore. “Not a cloud in the sky, just clear blue as far as you can see.”
“Mm, that sounds nice.”
“It is.” My voice cracks on the last word. I clear my throat, breathing in deeply before adding, “The birds are chirping happily.”
“Damn birds.” I can hear the smile in his calm voice, forcing a strangled laugh to escape through my tears and grief, despite the growing ache in my chest. I'm glad he can find it in him to enjoy his last moments, but dammit, I'm not ready for this.
“I don't want to say goodbye,” I whisper, feeling a fresh wave of sorrow piercing my heart.
He tenderly rubs a hand on my back, bringing both comfort and pain with each stroke. “Then just say goodnight,” he murmurs against my hair. “Just say goodnight, and I'll close my eyes and drift off to sleep, then I'll get to see my wife again. I can see it so clearly as if she's right here.”
His voice is so calm and soft. Like he's completely accepted that this is happening, and he's ready for what's to come. It's in complete contrast to the turmoil inside me, the whirlwind of emotions that are swirling around in a disorderly way. My world feels like it's crumbling around me. But the pure serenity surrounding him is holding me back from tipping over the edge and having an attack.
“I'm sorry. I was trying to stay strong.”
“You don't need to be strong for me, Jaz,” he rasps weakly. “You need someone to be strong for you. Where's Cam? Is he back yet?”
At the mention of his name, my chest squeezes even tighter, and the hurt coursing through my veins multiplies. “I don't know,” I admit quietly. “I haven't heard from him.”
Walter's hand pauses the soft rubbing on my back for a second before resuming again. “Go see him.” He sucks in a strained breath. “Life's too short to be waiting and wondering. Go see him, and let him be strong for you.”
I give him a small nod, and then we hug quietly for a minute.
In my experience, there's always a weird silence that surrounds death. My parents' funeral was quiet, filled with a silent void. Then afterward, when everyone met up for tea and coffee, there was no happy reminiscing about good times, no conversations or laughter. It was a tragic and sudden death, and people were still in shock, further saddened by the fact that they had left Graham and me behind.
That's not the case this time. Walter starts quietly singing the words to the song he always hummed in the past. I close my eyes, savoring the precious sound of it.
