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“Is this it?” I ask in panic. Boone is there holding my hand, and my dad moves around the bed to take my other.
“I can’t say for sure, but his systolic blood pressure is only eighty.”
I nod in understanding. They told me that would be one of the signs and he’s abandoned food and water, putting out virtually no urine and the breathing… it’s all wrong. Aiden hasn’t woken up since our talk earlier today.
“Does he need some morphine? Is he in distress?”
“He doesn’t seem to be, but he is due for a dosage if you want me to give it to him.”
“Will that kill him if he’s already having a hard time breathing?” my dad asks, and that right there tells me… he’s not anywhere near ready to let go. “Can we put him on some oxygen?”
“Dad,” I say, tugging free of Boone to hug my dad. “We can’t do that. Aiden didn’t want it. We have to let this run its course.”
The nurse puts a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “And no… the morphine will not hasten his decline. It will only make him comfortable.”
♦
It’s nearing fivea.m. and my dad, Boone and I are hovering over Aiden’s bed. The on-call doctor stopped by not long after the nurse called him and confirmed that Aiden was in the final stages of active dying.
Fuck, that was such a horrible way to describe this portion of his journey, but it was so accurate. Everything the doctors and nurses said would happen has happened.
I’m only slightly ashamed that there’s some relief that he’s letting go.
Currently, my dad is lying in the bed with Aiden. It’s raining—a steady spring downpour that’s been going on all afternoon and evening—and the exterior hospital lights paint shadowy bands rippling over their bodies. Because Aiden sleeps with his head and torso elevated, Dad’s beside him in the same position but cocked slightly on his hip. It’s a tight fit. I know his back has got to be killing him but he hasn’t moved in over an hour. Merely strokes Aiden’s arm and stares at the bathroom door which is in his direct line of sight.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, Aiden’s cool hand in mine. I’ve been so hyperfocused on his breathing that I think I’m seeing things. Like once, I thought he was breathing normally and I had a flush of excitement that he was battling back. But when I blinked, he was still laboring under quick shallow breaths interspersed with long pauses. Each time there was a pause, I refused to count the seconds, instead silently demanding that Aiden suck in a breath, which he eventually did.
It’s a horrible way to spend time, where a minute can seem like an hour.
Boone has pulled up one of the uncomfortable chairs behind me. He leans to the side, his arm draped over Aiden’s legs and his other hand resting on my shoulder. None of us speak, all three lost in our own thoughts.
Aiden’s breathing pauses again, his body going utterly still like it’s done countless times over the last handful of hours. I’m sick of the false hope within me, wanting a few more minutes with him, even though they’re minutes only for me. They do nothing for Aiden other than to keep him trapped in a broken body.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I call for all the strength within me. I don’t silently rail at him to breathe again and I refuse to hope.
Instead, I bring his hand up to my mouth and kiss it. “It’s okay, Aiden. You can let go. We’re all going to be fine, I promise. And you need to get on your way to a better life where you’re not in pain, free and happy. Dad, Boone and I will join you there one day.”
My dad jerks at that proclamation as it’s the first words that have been spoken in hours. But he leans over, kisses Aiden’s cheek. “Let go, buddy. Your fight is done.”
Boone’s head falls to his arm on Aiden’s legs. He doesn’t say anything but I know he’s wishing the same.
And then, it happens.
A tiny little jerk of Aiden’s body. His hand involuntarily contracts in mine and Boone’s head pops up because he felt it through his arm and my dad’s hand slides over to Aiden’s chest.
We all watch him, waiting for him to take in a breath, but it doesn’t come. I don’t expect it to either. When his body jolted, ever so imperceptibly, I think that might have been his heart stopping. Maybe a last goodbye to us?
“Can you go get the nurse, Boone?” I whisper.
He stands but before he leaves, he wraps his arms around me tight, hugging me from behind. “I love you,” he murmurs and then eases out of the room.
My head lifts, tearing my gaze away from my dad’s hand on Aiden’s chest and his eyes meet mine. “He’s gone,” my dad says.
I don’t even bother trying to feel for a pulse. I can feel it within the very essence of this small room that his spirit isn’t here anymore.
Aiden has left us.
And while I was ready for this just a minute ago, I now have all the regret in the world for giving my brother permission to die.
