The next morning, I made arrangements for the girls to visit Nicole at the hospital. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I was determined to make it happen. Sarah offered to come too, providing emotional support and helping me prepare the girls for what they would see.
“Remember, Mommy’s sick, and she might look different,” I explained, trying to soften the blow.
The girls nodded solemnly, their faces etched with concern. I had hinted at Nicole’s situation to them in a way that wouldn’t be too overwhelming. And, of course, I didn’t mention her impending death, a piece of news they wouldn’t be able to handle.
As we arrived at the hospital, Nicole’s frail body and sunken eyes shocked me. But her smile, though weak, still lit up when she saw the girls.
“Mommy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, rushing to Nicole’s bedside.
Hayden and Harper followed, surrounding Nicole with hugs and tears.
“We’ve missed you,” Hayden said, her voice trembling as she pulled away, and I could sense the uncertainty and sadness in her tone.
It was as if she was struggling to reconcile the frail woman before her with the vibrant mother she once knew. Since they had moved in with me, they had never mentioned their mother, and it made me wonder just what Nicole had told the kids to make them not worry about her. It was as if she wanted them to forget about her very existence, making them exclusively reliant on me.
Their silence about Nicole was almost eerie, as if they had closed a chapter on that part of their lives.
But I knew better. Children’s minds are resilient, yet fragile. They were just coping, knowing they had me to fill the void.
But their memories of Nicole were merely hidden and not forgotten. And soon, they would resurface with a force that would change everything, especially when they stopped hearing from their mother. I hoped I would be enough to help them get through the grief.
Nicole’s eyes never left Hayden’s face, filled with a deep longing and love. “I’ve missed you too, baby,” Nicole whispered, her voice barely audible.
Harper and Elizabeth clung to Nicole’s hands, unwilling to let go, and the silence became tense and oppressive with somberness.
Sarah, sensing this, stepped in gently, guiding the conversation to lighten the atmosphere.
“Hey, girls, why don’t you tell Mommy about your favorite things lately?”
The girls hesitated for a moment, then began sharing stories. Nicole listened intently, smiling to mask her pain. I could see the effort she was making to stay strong for the girls.
Meanwhile, Sarah and I exchanged brief glances. She leaned closer and whispered, “Maybe we should give them some space.”
I chuckled, grasping her true intention. “Or you mean we should have ourselves some space.” I raised an eyebrow, and she winked.
We stepped out of the room, leaving the mother and daughters alone, drowning in their tears, laughter, and memories.
As we stepped out of the room, Sarah’s hand found mine, and we exchanged a gentle squeeze.
Giving them space also meant giving ourselves space to process things, and honestly, I had a hard time doing that.
As we approached the waiting room, Sarah broke the silence.
“How are you holding up?”
I took a deep breath. “Honestly? I’m afraid for the kids,” I replied as we sat on the bench. “Losing their mother will devastate them. And I’m not sure if I’m ready to handle it alone.”
Sarah’s expression softened as she leaned on my shoulder. “You won’t be alone, Xavier,” she said, her voice gentle. “I’m here, remember?”
“Yeah, I know.” I replied, reaching out to her hand with a gentle squeeze. “This is their final… goodbye.”
“And I got to see what Nicole looks like in person; she’s beautiful, though,” Sarah said casually, trying to shift the subject. Nicole’s impending death was a somber reality that hung over us like a dark cloud, impossible to ignore.
Sarah’s attempt to shift the subject was subtle, but I appreciated her effort. To lighten the mood, even if just for a moment, I went with the flow.
“You’re more beautiful, if that’s what you want to hear.”
“What?” She raised her head, feigning surprise. “I didn’t want to hear that, you…” She playfully slapped my shoulder, now feigning annoyance.
We burst into laughter that felt like a release, a temporary respite from the weight of our emotions.
“You’re a charmer,” she teased, trying to hide her blush, which was new; she usually didn’t hide when she was blushing.
I smirked and fixed my eyes on her, making her blush even more. “Just telling the truth, beautiful.”
“Stop it.” She slapped my shoulder again, but this time she shifted to the far end of the bench. “You’re such a teaser.”
*******
As the visit wore on, Nicole’s fatigue became apparent, and we decided to end the day with a goodbye note. One filled with love and reassurance, one that would stay with the girls long after Nicole was gone.
“Time to go, girls,” Sarah announced, already sensing Nicole’s exhaustion.
I nodded, and we prepared to leave.
“Bye, Mommy,” the girls said in unison, hugging Nicole tightly, still unwilling to let go. Nicole’s smile faltered, and tears streamed down her face.
“I love you all so much,” she whispered, hugging them back.
“So when can we come visit again?” Harper turned to me, curious. I hesitated, unsure of what to say, but decided to give her some assurance.
“Soon, sweetie. We’ll come back soon, okay?”
Harper’s face lit up with a hopeful smile. “And Mommy will be better, right?”
I hesitated, exchanging a glance with Sarah. “We’ll see, baby. We’ll see.”
Nicole’s eyes, filled with a mix of sadness and gratitude, met mine.
“Thank you,” she mouthed silently.
I nodded, my throat constricting.
“Let’s go, girls,” Sarah gently urged, guiding them toward the door.
As they stepped back, Nicole mouthed again, a tear flowing down her cheek:
“Tell them I love them… every day.”
I nodded, trying to say, “I will.”
The girls turned back and waved, chiming in unison, “Bye-bye, Mommy.”
Nicole’s smile faltered as she waved back. “Bye, be good girls, okay?”
As we left the hospital, the girls continued waving, and “I love yous” echoed behind us. Nicole’s frail form disappeared from view, and I held on to the hope that perhaps I might see her one last time. And as for the girls, this was their final goodbye.