Daddy, it’s okay.
Holding my breath, I thought I could stay in once piece. My lips pressed together tightly, but it didn’t work. I exploded. It hurt so fucking badly.
Take me with you, buddy. I silently begged him. He didn’t deserve to be alone. I needed to go with him, wherever he was.
We would mow lawns and wear our hard hats. We would play in the dirt. I’d tickle his tummy, and he would giggle.
I let my own body shake with sobs.
I let hot, angry tears stream down my face.
I let the pain in, knowing I would soon have to stifle it and all of my emotions to be strong for Lucy and to be strong again for Tatum.
But for that moment, I bled out.
For that moment, I fucking hated the world and the very lonely place it had just become.
For that moment, my shoulders curled into my body as I convulsed with grief.
I didn’t feel like a man, a father, or a husband. In fact, I had never felt so weak in my life.
Weak because I couldn’t save him.
Weak because I didn’t know what to say to Tatum.
And weak because I wanted to die.
I just … wanted … to … die.
“It’s not real,” Tatum whispered with a scratchy voice after what seemed like a good half hour of the worst imaginable goodbye ever. Her cheek rested against Austin’s motionless chest. Her gaze fixed to the curtain as I continued to stroke her hair down her back.
My tears had run dry, and I’d returned to my numb, hollow state.
When I didn’t respond, she slowly shifted her red-eyed gaze to me.
“I wish it weren’t,” I whispered back.
“I … don’t understand.” She started to cry softly again. “What h-happened?”
I eased my head side to side and worked to swallow past the thick emotions lodged in my throat.
He was there. Our little boy. Why couldn’t he just open his eyes and start giggling, taunting the fact that he played dead and fooled us? That was one of his favorite games. He’d pretend to be dead until we’d say something like, “I guess we’ll have to go without Austin to get ice cream since he’s dead.” And he would spring from his spot on the sofa or under his comforter and yell, “Gotcha!”
We’d laugh and then tickle him, his favorite form of punishment for his orneriness.
His laughter.
That big smile.
Rosy cheeks.
And boundless energy.
Everything about him was angelic.
But in that moment, it felt like someone told us heaven didn’t exist and the sun would never shine again.
Tatum peeled herself from his chest, which only made her sob more as she covered her mouth and stared at him. I wrapped my arms around her waist, bringing her back to my chest, trying to hold her together when I knew she was already broken beyond repair. As was I.
“Excuse me…” a nurse peeked her head around the curtain “…I’m very sorry, but we need to move him to a different area. We can put him in a private room if you need more time.”
More time.
Yeah, we needed more time with Austin. Approximately forever. Was that too much to ask?
Tatum turned in my arms and buried her face into my chest like suddenly the sight of him was just too much.
“We’ll go see if the rest of our family is here,” I said.
The nurse nodded. “I’ll find you when we have him transferred to a different spot.”
“Thank you.”
With Tatum tucked into my side, I guided her toward the waiting room, feeling so much of her weight in my arms as her knees kept trying to buckle beneath her. I felt every ounce of her pain and weakness.
Would we ever feel strong enough to walk on our own again?
Would we ever feel the relief of a full breath?
Would the sun ever break through the clouds of our grief?
It was hard to imagine in that moment.
“Where’s Lucy? I need to talk to her. She was watching him. I need to know what happened. How could this happen? How? I just don’t understand.” Anger seeped into Tatum’s words. She needed answers. But more than that, I feared she needed someone to blame.
And while I knew she loved Lucy so very much, I also knew she wasn’t herself, and the words she might say to Lucy would impact our daughter in the most profound and possibly tragic way imaginable.
They’d be words she could never take back.
They’d be words that would leave lasting scars on our young daughter’s soul.
“Love this baby more. You have to promise to love this baby more than me … more than us.”
Tatum’s words from twelve years earlier echoed in my head, pushing aside my own unfathomable grief for Austin in order to make room for Lucy—for doing what was best for the child that we did still have. The one child we had left.