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“Just be a good man,” she whispered as my father cried openly at her side. She squeezed my hand faintly before she let go. I felt the loss of her warmth and it ripped my chest wide open. She was determined. Even in her final days she kept so much authority. Over me, over us both.
“I don’t know how to let go,” I whispered. Knowing she was terrified, I was selfish. I needed her comfort. She taught me how to tie my shoes, stand my ground, and take care of myself. She taught me how to love, she never taught me how to let go.
“I don’t have anything else for you Cameron. It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s that I can’t handle it myself. Please,” she whispered as her own tears got the best of her. “I don’t know how to do this either. I don’t think I’ll take my last breath and be okay knowing you’re here and I won’t be.” She turned to my dad. “Mark give us a minute.” He nodded before he left the room and the door clicked softly behind him.
I surveyed the space. She’d painted her walls sky blue when she got sick. She said it would make her feel more out in the open on days where the chemo refused to let her leave. But somehow, even with filtered sun streaming through the windows, the room felt ominous. I inhaled the scent of her lotion next to her bedside table, a scent I knew I would never forget, it was of no comfort and damn near brought me to my knees.
Cancer had stripped her, taking her skin, her hair, her joy and using her body as a punching bag. She’d survived it once. I didn’t know why God thought she deserved more, but I asked him. I asked him every day. And every day she got weaker until I had no choice but to accept her fate.
I could no longer demand answers but pray anyway, even if God was cruel. She hurt, and I prayed. And when praying proved to be pointless, I watched her wilt, I watched her choke on breath, I watched her cry out in pain, helpless, hopeless, it was the first time I felt forsaken and humbled to the point I no longer had an ego.
God broke us both and my father watched.
I looked at my mother, a floating vessel in a shell that refused to house her. So much life was left in her eyes, but she was stuck in a body that wouldn’t cooperate. I knew in that moment she was right. Seeing her like that altered me. It took a piece of me. She looked back at me as she weighed her words like she often did, before she spoke while I prayed one last time.
No more pain. God, hear me. You take her, but no more pain.
“Cameron, your father and I started this life together, and I want to end things with him that way. I know that seems selfish, but I need him with me. He’s my strength, son. No matter how you see it. He’s mine. It’s a gift if you think about it. I get to devastate him and then I’m free. But he won’t be. You two need to figure out how to do this on your own. Promise me you’ll try.”
“I will,” I said burying my face in her blanket. I gave myself three seconds of anguish before I faced her. Three seconds to breathe in the hell fire, breath that I could take freely, and she would suffocate for. I felt her fingers on my neck as I braved another look at her. And in her eyes, I saw the woman who gave me the best of herself. I saw a woman capable of so much more than being Mark’s wife or my mother. I saw her for the first time, a woman who was able to choose any other life than belonging to us. But we were her choice and I was grateful. And so, for my mother’s sacrifice, I made mine.
“Okay.” Grabbing her hand, I leaned in and kissed her fingers before I moved to press my lips to her forehead. Her hat slipped off and I heard her gasp. I didn’t flinch as I pulled the soft fabric down cradling her head. Every step away from that bed became laid brick in my chest. But it was when I looked back at her from the door that I realized I was her strength too. So, I gave her the only thing I could. “You are the best friend I have ever had. Even if you grounded me every day.”
She laughed lightly and made quick work of pulling up her sheet, averting her eyes so I couldn’t see her pain. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t tell her that I would be okay without her because I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t tell her that my life would be full without her because I knew that wasn’t true. I would miss her, every second of every day for the rest of my life. I would never be ready to lose her.
So, I looked at the woman who gave me breath, and I told her the truth. “I see you, Emma.” She paused her hands and looked up at me. “I see everything now. I just wish I would have seen it sooner. I would have done so much more. Thank you, mom.”
I gasped at the memory of her face in that moment as I closed the door. She died a week after I left her in that bed with my father at her side. My chest stretched unbearably, and I coughed at the stab. And for the first time since she died, I spoke to her like she could still hear me.
“I’m coaching again. I know you were pissed when I quit after I met Kat. It’s because you knew it would make me miserable,” I swallowed, “maybe you knew she wasn’t the right one, or maybe she had us both fooled.” I stood and shoved my hands in my pockets as the wind picked up. “I met the right one. She reminds me a little of you. She’s so beautiful in every way, so unassuming. She just wanted to make me happy. And she was good at it. She’s so smart it scares me, but in a good way. The way that lets you know you’re out of your league and lucky they haven’t realized it. But I went and showed her. I fucked up, mom. I don’t think I can come back from this the man you want me to be. God, I tried so hard with her. I thought, if I could get it right, just once, then maybe I could feel a little safer again, a little freer, with Abbie. With her, I could just be him. Your son, myself. And that was enough. But I didn’t put her first. I didn’t do it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that man.”
Even if my marriage wasn’t falling apart I couldn’t help but ask myself if I would’ve wanted Abbie anyway. Would I have strayed? Would I have thrown my marriage away for just a chance to get near her?
Everything inside me told me I would have if it meant I could feel a tenth of what I felt when I was with her.
Maybe I was that fucking guy. Because I knew in my soul I would sell, trade, kill or steal for another ten minutes of feeling like that and regret nothing. But even without more words, my compass showed me the truth. Love wasn’t just about being there, it was about sacrifice. It was the one thing love required that could make me the man I needed to be. What I needed would come second. It’s where I went wrong. It’s where I’ve always been wrong.
Sacrifice would be my penance for taking her trust and muting it to hear my own heartbeat.
“Hey,” Kat whispered faintly behind me. I sighed as I wiped my face of debris and prepared myself for the worst.
“Please, please don’t, Kat. Not now, not here.”
“I’m so sorry, but you keep avoiding my calls and I had to talk to you.”
I turned to face her and was surprised to see her father at her side, holding her hand. Kat’s mother had died before we met, and it had been our common bond when mom got sick while we we
re dating and then passed away five years to the day we stood as strangers at her grave. She knew I would show up.
“Hi Billy,” I said with a nod.
“You look good Cameron,” he said politely.
“You’re a horrible liar,” I said offering my hand. We shared a barely-there smile. Kat favored her father and he looked like he’d aged a decade since the last time I saw him. Some small part of me felt guilty about that because I knew the cause. But she was no longer my burden to shoulder.
“I can’t believe it’s been five years,” Kat said softly looking down at where my mother rested. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge her sincere empathy. I was too numb to her. I’d been through too much when it came to her. Still, I couldn’t forget there was a time that I loved her, that I would have done anything for Kat.
She turned to her father. “Daddy, can you give us a minute?”
