Anne turned to Nikola as she spoke with a shaky voice. It was killing my wife to be this strong, and the knife slowly went in deeper as I wasn’t able to take control.
“I will treasure every conversation and moment we’ve ever had. You’ve taught me about love and life. You’ve guided me when I thought my compass was lost. I love you so much. I promise to make you proud. My kids will know you and what you mean to me.”
Anne started crying, too, as Nikola slid in the bed next to her. They cried as they held each other. I wanted to scream. Why would the world would do this to them? Life was tough as fuck sometimes; I didn’t understand why we couldn’t get a little peace.
The cries subsided as Anne whispered, “Let’s not be sad. Let’s treasure the time we’ve got to spend together. We’ve loved more in our time together than some people get to in a whole lifetime. You’ll be okay. You’ve always been stronger than you knew.”
“I’ll remember each and every one of the good times, Grandmama.”
“Me, too. Know I’ll be looking down on you every second of the day.”
Nikola and Anne continued to embrace each. They spoke in whispers about their memories. The door cracked open and Nikola’s parents appeared in the doorway.
They looked shaken. Anne hadn’t wanted to worry them with the cancer until after the wedding. Nikola and I had both respected her wishes, even though we’d disagreed. Imagining their shock was indescribable.
Nikola’s dad spoke, “Mom, is it true?”
“It is, son. I didn’t want to worry you.”
Richard’s normal demeanor cracked and emotions shone through like a bright light.
Anne spoke to Nikola, “Do you mind giving me some time with your parents?”
“Of course, Grandmama. I’ll be right out in the hallway.” She gave Anne a kiss on the cheek, and a loving smile graced her lips.
I followed Nikola. When we got to her parents, Nikola gave them a hug. Her dad embraced her. At first, her mom was a little stiff, but she softened, hugging her back.
I gave them whatever smile my face was capable of at the time, even though my heart was heavy. We stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind us. The curtains had already been drawn for privacy, so we weren’t able to see anything. A few nurses were making their rounds.
Nikola turned to me and started sobbing in my chest. “I’m not ready to let her go. I don’t want to be strong. I want her to be okay. I want a miracle. I’ve been praying for a miracle. She’s dying, Brandt. She’s dying.”
I stroked her back and started walking us a little farther down the hallway to a more private alcove, from which I could still see Anne’s door. Searching for soothing words, I said, “I’m not ready to let her go either, but she’s in pain, baby. She’s in so much pain.”
“I know. I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to let her go. I want more time. I want to go back to yesterday when we were at our house. It felt like nothing was wrong. If I’d known that would have been our last day together, I’d have memorized it.”
Sobs continued to rack her body as she clung to me. Her nails dug into my back.
“I know, baby. I know.”
I held her close. Moments felt like hours. Time stood still.
The door to Anne’s room creaked open and Nikola’s dad stepped out with red-rimmed eyes. Richard nodded in my direction.
“Hey, baby, it’s time to go back in there.”
Nikola pulled away and started walking toward her father. When we reached the doorway, he put his arm around Nikola and I let her go. She needed to feel this rare love from her father.
As we walked into the dimly lit room, Nikola’s mother stood off to the side, wiping her tears away. Nikola went to the vacated seat she’d been in before. The pain was evident on Anne’s face, and her breathing was still labored. Anne smiled at Nikola. The monitors continued to beep at regular intervals.
Nikola took a deep breath as the nurse came in and went to the bedside. The nurse was young with brown hair in a ponytail. She checked the monitors. “How’s the pain, Ms. Kingston?”
Anne looked to Nikola and was about to speak when Nikola pleaded, “Don’t stay in pain, Grandmama. Please, don’t stay in pain. Don’t worry about me. Be comfortable.”
The nurse looked toward Anne, waiting for a response. Anne sighed in relief. “The pain is growing.”
“Let’s increase the morphine drip. You’re going to get sleepy, but it’ll help your breathing. You’ll be in and out. When the pain starts to increase again, let us know and we’ll continue to increase the dosages.”
The nurse pushed some buttons. As the nurse left, Nikola talked to Anne, doing what she’d asked earlier, remembering the good times.
“Do you remember when it rained, how Grandaddy and I always sing our made-up song, ‘It’s waining all over da world?’ You’d correct our pronunciation every time!”
“I do. You guys would stare out of the door, singing it over and over. That is a good memory. Tell me another one you have.”
Nikola smiled at the memory. “Do you remember Grandaddy would always have me put the paper towels on the holder backward to aggravate you when I was younger?”
Anne’s eyes got heavy as she chuckled. “I love that memory, too. He loved you, and he lived to aggravate me. Keep remembering things and telling me about them.”
Nikola talked about all her joyful memories as Anne drifted in and out of sleep.
I glanced at the clock; it was after four in the morning. Everyone had joined in and shared memories all night. At times, Anne had been alert, and at others she’d lain in the bed, peacefully asleep, as we talked to each other, surrounding her with memories of our life together. The nurses had brought us all coffee as we stayed awake, talking. In some ways, it was therapeutic.
An hour ago, the nurses had started administering the morphine orally. Anne hadn’t said much besides “I love you” throughout the night. The whimpers in Anne’s sleep had spurred the doctors to recommend the more aggressive morphine doses. I’d been watching the heart monitor, and it had been slowly dropping. It was going to be anytime now, as the breaths came further apart. A rattle from the fluid that had started accumulating in Anne’s chest in the night worsened.
The nurse checked the monitors again. “We’ll be monitoring outside, but I’ll give you some family time. Ms. Kingston’s vitals are dropping rapidly.”
Nikola got wide-eyed.
Richard spoke to Anne first, “Mom, I love you. It’s okay to let go.”
“Anne, thank you for loving me for who I was. It’s okay to let go,” Nikola’s mother, Melanie, spoke softly.
I leaned over and touched Anne’s hand. “You’ve impacted my life more than you’ll ever know. I love you with my whole heart, Anne. It’s okay to let go.”
Next was Nikola. She said, “Grandmama, I’ll remember you in every sunrise and every sunset. I’ll remember you in every breeze and will meet up with you in my dreams to tell you what’s happening in my life. I’m going to be okay. I love you. I love you so
much. It’s okay to let go. It’s okay. I’m going to be okay. I don’t want you to hurt anymore. I promise to remember the good. I promise.”
All our eyes were wet as Nikola spoke. The monitor began to fade even quicker. Nikola cried silently as she leaned her head down, listening to the beeps get further apart. Within a minute, Anne breathed her last breath and left us standing in the hospital. As she exhaled the last time, the world seemed a little dimmer.
We all lost a piece of ourselves in that final moment.
THE NOISE OF everyone talking around me was deafening. I needed silence. Since Grandmama’s passing two days ago, I hadn’t had a moment to myself. We were at the potluck in the fellowship hall that followed the burial. I have just buried my Grandmama. The words still seemed foreign as they ran through my head. It didn’t seem possible. It was like my life had been on fast-forward, unable to slow down.
There were constant reminders of Grandmama on the white paneled walls from different events she’d attended throughout the years. The picture right in front of me was of all the people who’d helped repaint the wood panels in this room. I was in the picture, covered in paint, hugging Grandmama. She didn’t have a drop on her. That had been a good day, full of laughter.
Wesley had come for the funeral, but it had been hard on him, with the memories of Diane still fresh. Shortly after the funeral, he had to leave and was headed to talk to Quentin—he introduced Wesley to a guy who’d been through the same thing. Wesley had felt horrible for leaving, but I’d insisted. A funeral was the last place he needed to be, but it meant so much that he’d come. Faith and Logan were talking to my parents. I loved being part of Brandt’s family. Faith made me feel like a daughter, and Logan made me feel like a sister—but I still felt like a piece of me was missing.
“Nikola, dear, did you hear me?” I blinked twice to see one of Grandmama’s longtime friends, Janice, in front of me.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat what you said?” My manners kicked in. All I wanted was to be left alone. Everyone wanted to talk to me. I only wanted silence.
On a normal day, the food smells would have been delightful. Today, they made me sick. Grandmama would have delighted in the outpouring of love, but it was hard to find any silver lining today. Brandt sat beside me and placed a drink in front of me. It looked like ginger ale. I didn’t want anything, but he’d insisted. He hadn’t left my side the entire time except a few minutes ago. Brandt had been doing the majority of the talking for me.