Page 815 of End Game

Eventually.

Tonight is not about deciding anything.

It is about making the decisions executable.

The notary verifies identities while I make sure everyone has the correct folders.

Cami’s medical decision-maker is Griffin, with me as successor.

Griffin’s is Cami, then me.

Dex chose Micah first and Griffin second.

Micah chose Dex, then me.

I chose Micah, with Griffin as successor.

When the attorney asked Dex why he wanted Griffin rather than me as his backup, Dex answered before anyone could stop him.

“Ronan’s a better daddy. Griffin’s a better dad.”

I am still irritated by that sentence.

Not because I disagree with the practical conclusion.

Because there were at least six less objectionable ways to express it.

Griffin laughed for almost a full minute.

The rest of the documents are broader.

Authorizations so the appropriate people can receive medical information.

Advance directives.

Wills.

Beneficiary changes.

Instructions concerning the house and enough protection that nobody loses their home because the person whose name appears on one piece of paper dies before everyone else.

Financial contingencies.

Emergency access.

Plans for what happens if Dex is out of state when something happens, or Griffin is on shift, or Cami is unable to speak for herself.

None of it is romantic.

Except that it is.

The ICU taught us that love has very little authority in a hospital unless somebody has documented what it is allowed to do.

I do not intend to learn that lesson twice.

We sign.

The process is less dramatic than the months of discussion that produced it.