And tears streamed unbidden down my face.
There was no time to call for help. No seconds to waste screaming for him to wake up or begging him to fight for just one more day.
He’d protected me.
Provided for me.
Given me everything he had to give.
And in that darkness between the hours of two and three, the boy who would forever hold my heart took his last breath.
His body was still beside me…but his spirit…
It’d gone.
And I’d felt him.
I’d woken to his kiss; I’d shivered in his goodbye.
Swallowing silent sobs, I laid a hand on his chest, begging for a heartbeat.
His skin was still warm.
But there was no heartbeat.
For a second, I was repulsed.
The animalistic part of me blaring with warning to stay away from the dead.
But this was Ren.
This was the other piece of my soul.
I was not afraid of him.
And so, I hugged my husband, telling him he was not alone.
And even though it ripped my heart apart, I told him to go and be happy.
To be free.
For the first time in my entire life, I was no longer part of a pair.
He’d gone to a place I could not go.
And as dawn crested and his skin grew steadily colder, life intruded on our bedroom tomb.
Jacob.
He’d be awake soon.
He couldn’t see.
And so, I’d done what any mother would do.
I left my dead soulmate and climbed out of bed to lock the door. I picked up the phone and ordered an ambulance. I called Cassie and John and told them.
I dressed in a fugue and went to my son’s bedroom to hold him, tell him, break him.
And we cried together.
God, we cried so much.
We cried when Ren was taken away.
We cried when he didn’t come back.
We cried when two days passed, then three and four and five.
Without Cassie and John, my son and I would’ve starved that week.
It was nothing but a blur of black, perpetual despair.
Ren’s body was cremated as per his wishes, the funeral already arranged, his Will and Testament activated seamlessly as everything was choreographed from the grave.
I didn’t remember sleeping or eating or even living…just existing…just surviving.
I’d died with Ren, but on the outside, I still played my part.
I consoled our—my—son.
I held him close as he sobbed.
I whispered stories when he couldn’t sleep.
I did my best to do what Ren would have done and that was to protect him from the pain.
But now…I couldn’t protect him, because today, it was the last time we’d hold Ren in our arms.
The silver urn was heavy and gleamed in the sun.
The trees around us swaying and sad.
The funeral had been announced in the local paper, and I’d expected a quiet affair of the Wilsons and the doctor Ren had grown close to over the years.
I wasn’t prepared for the entire town to attend.
Deep in the heart of the forest with no strict address or location, teachers and parents, friends and policemen had all gathered to say farewell.
There were no chairs or service.
No priest or hymns.
Just me holding Ren’s ashes.
Standing at the altar of his church.
I didn’t think I could speak.
I knew I couldn’t do Ren justice, but as Jacob came to stand beside me, a breeze whisked through the trees, kicking up leaves in a wind-devil.
And once again that prickle, that knowledge overwhelmed me, and the tears that were in constant supply erupted.
I cried in front of strangers.
I sobbed in front of family.
And when I’d finished hugging Ren for the last time, I stood taller, braver, older, and opened the single printed page from the manuscript I’d been writing on and off for years. When Ren had bought me a new laptop, and I’d tasted the first signs of him leaving me, I’d turned to the salvation of the keys.
I’d done my best to write all the happy moments and try to forget the sad.
I focused on our fairy-tale, never knowing the words I’d chosen for my prologue would be part of the eulogy at Ren’s goodbye.
He was forty-two and gone.
A life cut far too short.
Jacob nudged me, holding out his arms for his father. “I’ll hold him, Mom. While you—” Tears strangled his boyish voice, but beneath the childhood pitch lurked the rasp of a man.
He’d aged overnight, and I finally understood why it was so important to Ren to never treat him as a kid. To forever nurture that wisdom that was already ingrained in his soul.
Ren needed Jacob to accept his place before he was no longer there to guide him, giving him knives and truths and chores normally withheld for a more mature age.
And he’d known he could handle it.
Because he’d handled it himself.
My vision blurred with yet more tears as I ducked to Jacob’s height and held out my arms. Without a word, I transferred my loved one into his son’s arms and brushed the skirts of my simple black dress.