time to be dealing with something like this.” I turn to Asher. “Give me that.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Asher tucks the contract back inside the folder and hands it over.
“I’m not sure yet.” I don’t know whether to start with Grace or go straight for Mark’s jugular. “I need to get back to the house.”
Thirty-Five
Grace
I sit vigil beside my mom, praying her next breath won’t be her last, as if my will alone is powerful enough to tether her to this life. But I know Mom exists in a fog of pain, clinging to a life filled with agony, if only to spend one more day with me.
It’s wrong to be this selfish, but I can’t help it. Saying goodbye hurts too much.
The hospice nurse arrives. Abbie lets her in and the nurse comes to Mom’s bedside to administer drugs to help my mother as she nears the end.
Mom appears more comfortable, struggling less to breathe.
I hate everything about this.
The medication takes mom from me long before she slips from this world. I’m beside her, holding her hand, as the last breath fills her lungs then stops.
Not really sure what I expect, mom’s passing takes a moment to sink in. Her hand, which has been lax in mine all day, suddenly feels different.
Empty.
Vacant of life.
Both lighter and heavier.
I’m not sure how to describe it better than that.
But mom’s gone.
Mark, who’s been with me all day, and finally crashed in the rocker we pulled in from the porch a few hours ago, gives a start. His body twitches and he wakes up looking lost and confused.
“Is she…” He’s not able to ask if she’s dead, but he sees it in my tear-filled eyes.
I swipe at my cheeks and bow my head. “She just passed.”
Mom and Uncle Mark were close. They’ve been with each other their whole lives, growing up together after Mom’s mom, and Mark’s dad, married and joined their families. When my grandparents passed, Mom was barely twenty-one. She had to step up, not only to run the business, but as Mark’s guardian until he turned eighteen. After that, they ran this business together. I’m not surprised he wakes at the moment of her passing.
He comes to stand behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. Gently, he kisses the top of my head and holds me tight. “She’s in a better place now. No more pain.”
“Yes, no more pain.”
A tsunami of sobs rises inside of me, demanding I lower the flood gates and let them loose, but I hold them back. There will be plenty of time for crying in the days to come. For now, I gaze upon my mother and sift through my memories, gathering all the love and light into one last goodbye.
“Goodbye, Mom.” I lean over her bed.
As I kiss her on the cheek, the air in the room stirs. That’s when I feel Brody’s presence. He’s back from whatever pulled him away with his brothers.
His large frame blocks the door and an agonized expression fills his face. That’s all it takes to make my tears flow. A sob escapes me, but before I collapse from grief, Brody’s there. His strong arms wrap around me, supporting me, loving me, letting me know I can get through this, and that I don’t have to do it alone.
My cries release the floodgates and the tears tumble out in a mad rush while a piece inside of me rips apart and floats away. My sobs turn agonized and raw as I surrender to my grief.
Through it all, Brody is there, a pillar of strength I cling to as my entire life falls apart.
Not sure when, or really how, but we wind up on the porch, me cradled in his arms. Brody either carried me out here, or guided me out, while the delirium of my loss ran through me.
The tears slow. They stop. They fall again. Grief ebbs and flows within me as I struggle to process Mom’s death.
I’m all alone.
No, you’ve got Mark, and you’ve got Brody.
The voices in my head soothe me but do little to ease the terrible ache of my loss.
Gentle fingers stroke through my hair. The soothing tug and soft draw on my hair quiet my mind. At some point, I realize it’s Brody’s presence that grants me comfort. He rocks me in his arms.
I swipe at my cheeks and sniffle. What a blubbering, snot-filled mess I make. My eyes open and my vision clears as I blink