Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included!

by Stephanie St. Klaire

  I’d enlisted Felicity’s help. Against better judgement, she took me to the craft store so I could collect the things I needed to start working on my gift for my people. I loathed the idea, but used a wheelchair and let Felicity push me around. It was the only way she’d take me — I had to promise to sit in that wretched thing. But this was important, more so than my pride.

  Liam was livid when he came home to find us gone. I supposed it hadn’t been our best idea, but we were close to home, hospice had been there for the day, and I was feeling fine. He thought ordering what I needed online was a better idea, or giving him a list so he could grab all the things, but that wouldn’t have been personal, and this project was personal.

  I’d picked out stationary, scrapbook crap, and even pretty little envelopes. I didn’t have a real plan, but as I saw each item, I knew it was right. I’d hoped so, anyway. I’d bought out the store and had bags full of supplies with no real vision yet. I knew it would come, though. Especially as I sat in my perfect space with a view of our gardens and the city I loved in the distance.

  Despite the lack of physical exertion, I was still exhausted. As much as I wanted to get started, I knew my limit, and I respected it. Each moment was a gift, and I wasn’t about to piss off the powers that be. I had too much to do and wasn’t about to buy any trouble — not until I was done.

  I laid down to nap and woke fourteen hours later to Liam laying into City. I’d apologized to both of them. It wasn’t her fault for wanting to help me, or his for loving me. I’d taken advantage of them both, but as selfish as it was, it was all for them.

  I knew I had a true friend in City when she told me I had nothing to apologize for. She supported whatever I was doing, knew its value. She was the only one, really. The family thought I was journaling as a means to stay busy and cope. It was so much more. I was grateful for Felicity. She was like a sister perfectly placed in my life at the perfect time — just when I needed her.

  Sure, she cared about me, but it was different than everyone else. With the best intentions, the family tended to coddle too much and hover. City didn’t. She let me be me, like a spunky sidekick ready to get in trouble again if that was what made my last days the best days.

  When I was too tired to use even a glue stick or squeeze scissors, she was right there with me, doing whatever I needed, step by step. On the days where I needed a good cry, she cried with me. On the days I needed a good laugh, she helped me prank whoever was in close proximity. The days where there were no words to shed and I had only enough energy to sit up, she sat and watched movies with me.

  I wasn’t going to lie and say I had a burst of energy, post treatment, but I did reclaim some of it in spurts. I saved those moments for Liam and Reagan. The occasional walk, I was up to a full city block. Or Sunday dinners at the pub where they set up a special chair with plenty of pillows and a blanket.

  My life wasn’t grand, but it wasn’t awful. It was purposeful. And it all started with a letter.

  It was Reagan’s fourth birthday. Perched in my favorite chair, I watched the festivities and realized it was probably the first last. I wouldn’t be here for her fifth. Who knew what I’d be here for from this point forward. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, weddings… The list of firsts without me was long, but it was all part of the project. I’d be there for every single one of them. I had a list, and it was prioritized so the absolute most important letter I was going to leave would be here, everything else was a bonus.

  That was the project. The manual. It was a how-to of sorts. It was personal. All of the milestones and precious moments they’d stop and wish I was there for were going to be a little easier. I was going to be there. They just didn’t know it yet.

  My first letter was to Liam, and by far the hardest. It was the goodbye I couldn’t put into words. Who even did that before they were gone? It wasn’t something you got out of the way just in case there wasn’t time or death came in the middle of the night. It was a form of encouragement and a promise to never entirely leave them. He needed to know that. He needed to know my hopes and dreams for them. So, he’d know I was there with him as he watched our daughter grow. I’d guide him, encourage him, but most of all, just love him with words he could read over and over again. Surely that would lessen the pain and make each first without me a little easier.

  My second letter was to my sweet Ragin’ Reagan for her fifth birthday to let her know I was there. I can only imagine what that first birthday without her mama would be like. I didn’t want it to be full of sadness, but rather joy. I wanted them to find happiness in my memory, not sorrow in my absence.

  This was my most important task, my duty, my purpose. The list was long. I had a lot of letters to write, tears to shed, and memories to make long before their time. This would be my greatest challenge and greatest honor.

  I’d sell my soul to the devil if I had to just to get it done. These letters, and these people, were that important to me. They were my life; they always had been. They were why I was here, and they were also why I had to move on…but not until I said what I needed to each and every one of them.

  I sat back and watched the festivities. I didn’t think there was a family that laughed as much as we did, or had so many quirky traditions. That was what I would pour into these letters.

  I shared the extra frosting from the birthday cake with Reagan, as we always did, then we set the balloons free so they could celebrate in heaven. I have no idea why we started that tradition, but it was there, it was us, so we did it.

  Now, I knew what I needed to write…

  A letter from Cass…

  My dearest Liam,

  This is the first letter I am writing, and by far the hardest. It needed to be first because it is the most important. There are so many things I want to say, but there isn’t enough time…or words. How do you summarize a lifetime in a single letter?

  I need you to understand I am okay with the hand I was dealt. I don’t feel cheated or robbed of time. I don’t feel like I missed anything and certainly don’t want for anything. I’m not disappointed or angry. To feel any of those things would be a terrible discourtesy to all of that which I have had the joy to experience and live. I don’t want you to feel those things either, Liam.

  I had my second chance. I was already given more time — time to be a mother, a better wife, a better friend. Not many people get that privilege — to see life through new eyes like I did. I’m lucky, Liam. Lucky to have been given that time, albeit short, to be who I was meant to be. Forever is wasted if it isn’t through the right eyes with the right people.

  We’ve had a wonderful life together, one that forty or fifty more years couldn’t have made any better. Don’t confuse time and joy. Joy only takes an instant to feel and lasts long past forever. I choose to take the joy with me over the time, my love. I hope you can understand what that means…eventually. I found joy in you, the family we built, and that sweet little girl you gave me. Liam, please remember the joy. It’s the root of everything good, and it will heal that which isn’t.

  I don’t think there is a greater love than the love you carry. Remember to love — all things — even when it’s hard to remember how. It will see you through the hard times and bring you joy during the good…there’s that word again…joy. I know our parting isn’t going to be easy for you. My only regret is that I can’t help you carry that burden because I would gladly take it with me if I could, but that would mean taking everything we cherish too. Do you understand that, Liam?

  I need you to understand the greater the hurt, the greater the love, and our love is bigger than the sky, remember? It’s okay to hurt. With every bad day you have, remember the endless good we shared. The beautiful life full of incredible memories is why it hurts so bad, but they’re also what will see you through. Your grief is a testament to the love we share. For every bad day, there will be endless good…so long as you let your heart feel it.

  I’ve left you with the arduous task of raisin
g a daughter alone, and I know you’re going to think it’s impossible, but I can’t think of a better man to do right by her. On those days where you feel it’s impossible and you aren’t sure what to do — just love her. Just…love her, Liam. If you do that and teach her to love like only you can love, she’ll live a full and charmed life.

  You’re my everything, Liam — my best friend, my lover, my confidant, my hero, my blessing, my first and only forever love. Please be my hero once more. Let yourself have the life you deserve, even if it’s without me. Live a whole life, because half a life…it’s just not you.

  Be happy, Liam. Let me go when the time is right, and be…happy. Your love isn’t to be wasted. When the time comes, give it to someone who deserves it. You’ll know who and when. Continue to love as fiercely and endlessly as you’ve loved me. You’re a treasure to be had.

  My best memories are of you and Reagan. My life started with the two of you. My fondest memory, though, is of you…dancing in the rain when our car stalled in the middle of nowhere and we didn’t have cell service. The romantic evening you planned fell apart — you were so frustrated at first — but nothing could have topped splashing in the mud puddles while dancing in the middle of the road during a storm with you. With every storm that passes, my love…remember to always dance in the rain.

  I’m always with you, Liam. You’re never alone. I hope the letters I’ve written for you and Reagan help weather the storms. Dance, my love…teach our daughter to dance.

  With all of my heart, I love you forever and always…

  Until we meet again…

  Cassidy

  A letter from Cass…

  My precious girl, Reagan…

  Wow! You’re FIVE! This is a big, big year. You finally get to go to school with the big kids — you’ve been waiting for this for so long. Yay! I hope you’re surrounded by everyone special to you, and your day is full of joy and laughter.

  Oh, how I wish I was there with you to celebrate. I need you to know that just because you don’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here, baby. I’m always here. I’m in your heart, I’m in your memories, I’m even in the garden with you, silly girl.

  I’m sure you miss me as much as I miss you, but I need to let you in on a little secret. When we miss someone, it’s because we love them so much. Sometimes we love so much it kind of hurts, but that’s a good thing. That’s the good kind of hurt, honey. It’s the kind that reminds us how lucky we were to have someone special to love and love us back.

  Remember that, sweet girl. Remember how much I love you. Remember all the happy things we did together. Remember the birthdays, the roses, and the fairy garden. Those are all the places you’ll find me. They’re all the places you are loved. If you look hard enough, you’ll see me everywhere, honey.

  I want you to eat a really big piece of cake today. Cake was our favorite! You get the extra frosting, this time, but think of me while you eat it, will you? And when you let the balloons go and they float all the way to the sky, know I was the one to get them and I love them. Almost as much as I love you.

  Happy birthday, big girl. Five’s a piece of cake. You got this! Live your very best year, Reagan!

  Love you forever and ever,

  Mama

  A letter from Cass…

  Dear Liam…

  I can’t believe our little miracle is FIVE! How lucky are we? This is Reagan’s first birthday without me, which means it’s yours too. I’m sorry you have to go through all these firsts alone and I’m not physically with you two, but please try to put that second and let her be first today.

  Please remember how special this day is — not just because it’s Reagan’s birthday, but because it’s one more day together. To celebrate. To love one another. I imagine this day will be hard for her, just as it is for you.

  What I want you to do is think of your best birthday memories of all of us together. Talk about them. Laugh about them. Find the joy in it.

  I don’t want my absence to bring you pain, but rather use it to smile. Don’t let what you don’t have overshadow all that we had, that’s yet to come.

  Find all the reasons that make turning five awesome your mission today. Find five things to laugh about. Find five things that make the day special. Find five things she wants to do, try, or experience before she turns six.

  I guarantee you the next birthday will be a little easier. Know I am with you. Every time your heart aches, let that be a measure of our love. God, I love you so, so much. I’m so lucky to have had a life with you and our little girl. I can’t wait to see all the wonderful things you do this birthday and every birthday to come.

  I bet she’s over the moon about her new status. This is the birthday she’s been waiting for. She’s officially a big kid, like she’s always wanted. Let her excitement wash over you and know I am with you two through it all.

  Keep me in your heart, Liam. Cling to the beautiful memories and feel my love because that never left you.

  Thank you for taking care of our girl. Thank you for letting me leave with peace in knowing she’d never go a single day not feeling loved. Thank you for being there for both of us, knowing I’m not far.

  I left Reagan four of my favorite birthday pictures, help her create a fifth. For you, I’ve enclosed four birthday pictures of the three of us…please don’t forget to take the fifth. I love you, Liam.

  Remember the extra frosting and make sure you let the balloons go… That’s her favorite part.

  With all of my love…

  Your adoring wife,

  Cass

  11

  When the sky sparkles…

  Summer was in full swing. I loved this time of year, in this city, with my people. I wish I could say I felt strong, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel like it was the end, though, and that was something.

  I’d been able to take small walks with Liam along the waterfront. It had been nice to get out of the building and see the city from the ground. We never made it far, but we didn’t have to. Just being with him, doing something somewhat normal, was enough.

  There were a few times when I felt a little bold and walked a little farther than I probably should have. When it became difficult too walk, and the fatigue took over, my sweet guy would swoop me up and carry me the rest of the way home.

  We got a lot of odd looks, but we didn’t care. Some thought we were newlyweds, and we let them believe that because they thought they were witnessing something special, and they were. Our love was special, one of a kind, and I so enjoyed the buzz it created.

  Liam was staying closer to home. Everyone was, it seemed. I didn’t know if that was a coincidence, but I wasn’t going to complain. The guys had a thriving business with enough trusted employees to cover the tasks they chose not to take so they could be close to home, together.

  I sat on the rooftop, my special project in my lap, and watched as the family scattered around, setting up for fourth of July festivities. We always barbecued. Any holiday was an excuse for family time. We’d have our cookout, eat homemade ice cream, and wait until the sun set for the evening and the sky lit up.

  Our view was like no other once the night sky graced us. We could see colorful bursts for miles — from the rodeo, to the ballfields, to the city’s lavish show. Fireworks were magical from that vantage point. Even the smaller illegal ones scattered in the distance, peppering over neighborhoods. It was fun to see and imagine the fun they must have been having too.

  My favorite was the firework show over the river, set from a barge not even a mile from our building. We laid on our backs and watched the sparks shower over us. They were so big, they felt like we could simply extend a hand and touch them.

  We’d watch for hours as the sky filled with colors and patterns like a vibrant canvas. It was art. It was beautiful. It was magic — there was no other way to explain it.

  “The sky sparkles, mama. Glitter is my favorite.”

  Seeing the festivities through Reagan’s eyes was awe insp
iring. The sky did sparkle. Glitter was awesome. And I was grateful to see it one last time.

  Every holiday was a big deal for the O’Reilly family. We didn’t do anything small. That made each one I got to enjoy one last time that much harder because I knew it was the last. I didn’t know how much time I had left, we’d exceeded the two months the doctors were sure of, so we were on bonus time. But I did know, I wouldn’t see the sky sparkle again, at least not from here.

  I’d been writing letters daily. To everyone. For everything. Mostly, for Liam and Reagan. They’d go through the most, hurt the most, and feel the loss the most. Each letter I left gave me a little more peace, though.

  Every milestone I could think of, I wrote a letter. Every holiday that passed or was too distant to reach, I wrote a letter. Every broken heart, sickness, scare, joy, accomplishment I could think of, I wrote a letter. The books I was leaving for Liam and Reagan were getting full, and that left my heart full.

  It was like each passing day, as I lost a little piece of myself, I got to leave a piece with them. It felt purposeful. Meaningful. As time faded, I did not. I was encapsulated in this gift I was leaving them. I’d be with them forever. And when they missed me or needed me, they’d know where to find me. I’d never be far because I’d poured every bit of myself into these letters for them.

  It was interesting. The more I lost, it seemed the more I gained. One day gone, one day closer to the end, but a lifetime lived and shared. It was beautiful. The small things became the biggest things. I witnessed a type of joy I wouldn’t have had any other way, and I felt blessed for it.

  Living in the moment had new meaning. Living my best life did too. I learned the greatest gift life could offer wasn’t just love; it was time — time for the small things, which far outweighed the rest.