all of your questions.” He leads me to a room farther into the hospital.
The room isn’t too big, with two pink chairs opposite a sofa, a table in the middle, and a painting on the wall. He sits on the chair, and we take the sofa. A moment later, the door opens and an older woman enters. “Mr. Phillips, I’m Rebecca.” I shake her hand as she sits on the sofa, and I look between them.
“Can I see him? Is he okay?” I fire out harshly.
“First, Mr. Phillips, is there any other family we should call?” Rebecca asks.
“His mum is in Paris, she won’t be awake,” I murmur as the bad feeling increases. “Where is my son?” I almost yell.
The doctor leans forward, his face saddened, and in that moment, I know…but I need to hear it. “Mr. Phillips, we are very sorry, but Justin didn’t make it.”
Didn’t make it…
He’s dead?
I must say it out loud, because he winces. “I’m afraid so. It seems he was drunk behind the wheel. I’m so sorry to tell you he crashed into a barrier and the car flipped. He was brought here, where he was worked on and rushed to surgery to repair internal bleeding, but I’m afraid he suffered a cardiac arrest on the table and didn’t survive,” he informs me, but everything else fades away except those words.
Dead.
Didn’t survive.
I feel Lexi pressing closer, holding me. I hear them asking me if I’m okay. They’re all looking at me, but nothing feels real. The words echo through my heart and head as everything shatters around me. My carefully built, safe life is gone in an instant.
My son’s life was taken in one second, and he was alone. Alone when he died. I wasn’t here.
And now he’s gone.
It’s strange, but my only thought is of the last conversation we had when I told him he wasn’t my son anymore. That I was disappointed in him. Tears blur my eyes, and I put my head into my hands and scream.
Lexi kisses along my shoulder and tries to comfort me. “Mr. Phillips, I’m a bereavement counsellor. I will be here if you need anything. For the moment, we will give you two…a minute. We will be just outside.”
I hear the door shut, and I turn, desperately throwing myself at Lexi. She catches me, falling back to the sofa, her arms wrapping around me as I sob and yell into her skin.
My son is dead.
Time has passed, but I couldn’t tell you how much. My tears are dried on my cheeks, and I’m numb and empty, still holding Lexi. I lift my head to see tears in her eyes as she holds me tightly.
“He’s gone,” I whisper.
“I know. I’m so sorry,” she murmurs brokenly.
Just then, there is a knock. I should sit up, but I don’t want to, so when they open the door and find us like that, I don’t even care. They don’t seem surprised at all, and Rebecca looks at me sadly. “Can I come in?”
I nod, and she takes a seat.
“I cannot even begin to understand what you are feeling. We are truly sorry for your loss,” she starts.
“Thank you,” I reply automatically, my voice hoarse and rough.
She looks between us nervously. “Would you like to see him?”
“See him?” I ask.
“Some find it helps, a chance to say goodbye, to gain closure, but of course if you don’t want to, that’s quite okay as well. Whatever you need to do, we are here for you,” she assures me.
I’m just empty.
Completely numb. The only thing anchoring me is the angel holding my hand as I’m led to the room. A sheet is pulled up to his chin, and when I lock eyes on his pale body, I rush to his side.
My heart breaks all over again, and tears fall, even though I didn’t think I had any left, as all that pain comes roaring back. I drop to my knees as I press my head against his cool cheek.
My son, my boy, my fucking baby is gone.
So still, so cold.
I’ll never see his eyes again, never hear his laugh. See him grow old, get married, have kids. I’ll never hear him act like a kid again, laughing and begging for my attention because of something he did. All those years of his life are just gone.
Wiped clean over one stupid fucking mistake.
My tears fall onto his face as I kneel there, holding his hand, but it’s cold and hard—this isn’t my son anymore.