“I’m going to give you two a moment,” the doctor says, slipping out.
“I’ll be right outside,” Mom adds.
Ethan opens his mouth, about to continue, but I bring my fingers to his lips. “Shh… my turn.” He nods.
“These last few months with you have been nothing short of amazing. Because of your strength and warmth, I finally felt safe enough to live, and even if this is all I get, I know what it’s like to live and love to the fullest.”
“This isn’t it,” he mumbles from behind my fingers.
“But if it is… I need you to know how much you changed my life. And if for whatever reason I don’t wake up, I need you to promise me you won’t stop living again.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I argue. “You will find someone to love. You have such a big heart and it would be a waste for it to not be used. Let someone in, just like you let me in, and love with all of your being. Promise me.”
“Nevaeh, please,” he pleads, sounding more like a scared little boy than the strong man I know him to be.
“My beautiful, sweet husband.” I cup his face. “I love you so much. I couldn’t have faced any of this without you.”
“You’re in here because of me,” he murmurs.
“No, I’m in here because of Logan and Felix. I meant I couldn’t have dealt with my tumor without you.”
“Yes, you could’ve.” His hand cups mine, and he turns it around and kisses the inside of my palm. “You’re so strong, Angel. So damn strong.”
“Because of you.” I look him in the eyes. “You make me less afraid. You once said that you were lost and by meeting me, you found your way back. The same is true for me.” I bring our entwined hands to my lips and kiss them. “Even before I lost my brother, I was stumbling around, trying to find my way. There was only a tiny shred of light—enough I could see, but not enough to find my way. And when I lost him… that little bit of light extinguished, and I was left in the dark.”
I glance down at our hands—his strong to my delicate. “I lost my faith, but more than that, I lost myself. And it was through your light I was able to find my way back. Don’t you see, Ethan? We are each other’s beacons.”
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.”
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 I adopted 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.”