by D. Love
His advice: make Rye comfortable.
It infuriates me. I call a renowned cancer center in Boston for a second opinion. My hope gets a boost, when they ask to see Rye’s medical records for their oncologist to review. I make an appointment for us to go down to Boston to hear what their doctor has to say.
That day is today, one week after the visit to the doctor. Sitting on the back stoop, my gaze falls to the tree I attacked many months ago. That was the day Mark told me that the most important thing I could do was to give Rye good memories.
How can I do that, when I can hardly get her out of the bed now? Her last trip to the doctor seems to have destroyed what was left of her hope and strength. She’s given up, and now, I watch her melt away. Over the course of a week, she’s grown so weak that I’m afraid of what the trip to Boston will do to her body. Dee continues to read to her every night. I sleep at her side. Her beautiful face is the last thing I see at night and the first I see in the morning.
I don’t ever want that to change. But I can’t stop what’s coming.
Emily is doing well. She has Rily to focus on. We are all trying to keep her busy, so she doesn’t have to watch her mother fade. But children see more than we realize. Sometimes, it’s almost like she knows more than we do. I overheard her explaining to Rily one day that Rily’s grandmother is sick and might not live much longer but not to worry, because Em was going to make sure Rily was okay.
Em is strong for her age. I’m proud to call her my daughter now, and I’m humbled by how brave, sensitive and sweet she is. She’s got company in the house, too, with Angie tottering behind her and Rily, wherever she goes.
We had a family meeting two days after the visit to the doctor and decided it was best that Rye always have someone around her. Mark and Katy moved into Dee's house with us to help out. We know that Rye is unable to take care of herself on her own, and Dee says she can’t bear the thought of Rye leaving this world alone.
I keep trying to talk to Rye, to determine how she’s doing. She has a way of changing the subject with a joke or by teasing me, calling me Mr. BBQ. I can’t bring myself to continue pressing about a topic that can do nothing but upset us both more.
I leave the stoop and return to the house. Rye is ready, and I wrap an arm around her for support as we go to the truck. All my hope rides on this visit. None of us talks on the drive. She’s too tired, and Dee and I are sick with worry. It feels like there’s a brick in the pit of my stomach, and I’m almost nauseous. I grip the steering wheel of the truck so tight, my knuckles pop.
What if they, too, say there’s no more hope? The last visit to a doctor left Rye devastated. Will this one break her? Am I being selfish, forcing her out of the house for a taxing trip, not to mention, forcing her to face another doctor who might only have bad news for her?
I push the thought away. I have to know if there’s anything at all that can be done. I love her. She’s my world, and if there is anything at all that can be done, we will pursue it. Besides, if I turn around now, and discover later that there was something we could have done, I could never forgive myself.
Although, if this doctor only has bad news, I’m not sure I can forgive myself for subjecting Rye to hearing it.
The second opinion turns out to be the same as the first. Or maybe, I should say, it’s even worse. Rye's kidneys are shutting down, a sign that she has weeks left. Definitely not months or years. The doctor’s only suggestion is that they try a kidney transplant but didn’t know if Rye is strong enough for the surgery. He told us that we could be tested to see if we are a match, which is necessary for one of us to donate a kidney to Rye. It’s our next step, the only option we have.
At one point, the doctor offered us a business card with the information for a hospice center. Dee became hysterical, crying and refusing. I walked her out to the lobby to cool down. Right now, she’s busy making the appointments to get everyone tested to see who’s compatible with Rye for a kidney transplant, while we wait for Rye to emerge from the doctor’s office.
It hits me then. This is really happening. In a matter of days, I will lose the only woman I’ve ever loved. My best friend. My soul mate. Dee’s hope is now in the kidney transplant, but even I’m beginning to accept that – transplant or no – Rye’s chances of seeing another Christmas are not good.
We leave the oncologist’s in Boston. I am so angry at the perverseness of life and how fast it can change that I can barely drive home. I keep stealing glances at Rye. She’s looking out the window, deep in thought. The burden I carry for the hopeless trip renders me angry at myself in addition to being upset at life. I realize I haven’t asked her what beauty she sees in a long time.
"Rye, what is the beauty you see today?" I ask.
"Life," is all she says. And she smiles. I don’t know how she can right now, but she does.
Via the rearview mirror, I can see Dee silently crying. Tears barrel down her cheeks faster than she can wipe them away. Like me, she was hoping for a miracle today but didn’t get one. Life feels like it is spiraling out of control very fast. I only hope I can be strong enough to face what is coming for the sake of Rye.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Rye
Today is the last. The sand in my hourglass has run out. I feel it, an instinctive acknowledgment that I need to say my final farewells, before I lose the opportunity forever.
The doctors are saying that I’m going through kidney failure. It’s been one week since the first trip to Boston and two weeks since my original doctor recommended that we discontinue chemo treatments. The doctors in Maine were able to determine who might be a match for a kidney transplant.
I’m doing my best to hold on, but in all honesty, I’m tired of it all. It’s not just the pain and weakness of my body. It’s knowing that my family’s suffering is increasing with each passing day.
Of all the family members they tested for compatibility for a kidney transplant, only one person’s came back positive: Emily. My sweet, baby girl. I’m touched that everyone went through the testing, but I’m more than a little angry that they would even test Em or put her through all that.
I absolutely will not take my baby girl's kidney. I'm sorry for my Mom and Jett's hearts and their pain, but I just can’t put Em through this. A new kidney will not help my brain tumor. What if something happens to Em one day, and she needs the kidney that I have taken from her?
She’s ten. A child. She has her whole life ahead of her. She needs to be healthy and happy.
My fate is sealed. A new kidney isn’t going to change that.
All I do now is lie in the bed. I get up a few times a day to stretch my limbs, but even that hurts and reminds me that I can barely walk without help. I don’t know which is worse: needing help to walk or leaving my room to see how my once beautiful, vibrant family has turned into zombies. I’m the one who’s dying, but I almost feel like they are trying to die with me
I am the only one that will accept what’s coming. Once I am gone, they will be able to live again. Time will heal their pain. Right now, they aren’t living. They’re making it through the day, stuck between memories of a better time and the uncertainty of my death.
Every time I leave my room, I see how much sadness they all carry. Whenever they enter my room, they almost seem afraid of finding me there, my body in bed but my soul long gone. I wish they understood that there’s no shame in dying. It's only our next step on the journey our souls take. I need them to understand that death will be the only thing capable of extinguishing all my pain.
I want them to accept it, like I have. My only real regret: I wish I died before my daughter had to see me too weak to walk or stand on my own. I wish I’d died a few months ago, before I turned into a burden on them all.
My fear has faded, replaced by acceptance. Death will be a release from suffering, for all of us, even if my family doesn’t quite realize that yet.
Mom enters my room and sits beside my bed. Before she can start reading to me, I need t
o tell her something.
"Mom, I know you are hurting and for that I am sorry," I start. "Know this though, Mom. My life has been beautiful and full of love. Some people never have what I have been given or beautiful people like you in their lives to take care of them."
"Honey, I want you to stop talking like that," she replies with forced cheerfulness. "We will find a way. Life cannot end this way, Rye. You are too young, and there is so much more you have to accomplish if life."
"Mom, do you understand what gift we are given?"
"Rye, how do you see anything of this as gift, honey?" she gasps.
"This moment right now is a gift," I tell her. "The best part about all this, Mom, is that we get to say our farewells. I get to tell you how much I love you. There will never be any if only's or I wish I would have. We have now, and a lot of people do not get this. We can say until we meet again. I can hug you and you can hug me. It’s truly a gift for us."
She’s staring at her feet. For the first time, I think she’s beginning to understand that nothing is going to change the course my life has taken. While she’s quiet, I continue, wanting to tell her everything in my soul, while I still can.
"Mom, I love you and want you to know it’s okay now. You have taught me to value so much in life. Because of you and Emily, my life has been full. When it’s my time, I can go, knowing how incredible of a life I’ve lived. Not many people experience the love and happiness that you have given me. You are my rock. I will need you to pass on your kindness to my daughter, and become her rock."
She’s sniffling. This is hard. So hard. I feel like I’m hurting her.
"You’re the one who always tells me that everything happens for a reason. Well there must be a good reason for me to leave so early," I tell her firmly. "I want you to promise this one thing. Mom, look at me please. This is super important."
My mom looks up at me, tears filling in her eyes.
"Promise me that you will not break," I continue softly. "You will have to be strong for Emily and for everyone else. You will be the only one who can keep the family together."
She wipes away her tears, struggling not to break down. I’m crying, too, because I ache to tell her so much more, to find a way for her to see how much she means to me.
"Are you scared?" she asks sadly.
"Oh, Mom, of course I’m a little scared. But I am going with a part of you in me. That will make me strong."
Mom starts weeping, the soul-deep sound of someone whose heart is shattering. It hurts me to hear it. I also can feel my body struggling to hold on. My soul is ready to continue its journey, and I’m too tired to stop it anymore.
"Mom, can you bring everyone home, so we have some time together?" I ask her gently.
Shock, denial and terror go through her eyes.
"Please, Mom, be strong. I need you one last time." I try to give her the biggest smile I can.
Understanding crosses her features. Mom stands up but hesitates to leave.
"Rye, it’s not fair that you’re leaving me. I am supposed to leave first. It should be me with a tumor. It should be me in that bed." She draws a shuddering breath. "But, please, baby, know how much I love you, always."
"I do, Mom."
She nods, tormented, but leaves to do as I asked.
A few seconds later, Em and Rily bound into my room. Rily hops onto my bed and begins licking my face.
"Rily loves her grandma!" Em says with a laugh.
"Come here, Em," I reply. "Let me give you some love."
Em crawls onto the bed beside me.
"I’m going to give Rily a bath today!" she tells me, excited.
I run my fingers through her soft, silky hair. It smells innocent and sweet, like she does.
"Do you know how much I love you?" I ask.
"Of course, I do, Mama," she replies quickly. "All the way from the moon to the stars."
I can’t bring myself to say goodbye to my daughter. At the same time, I’m afraid if I don’t, she’ll always wonder why I didn’t. I have no idea how to help her understand that it’s time for me to go to heaven, and I don’t know how to cause her less pain. Deciding how and what to tell a child her age and maturity level is complicated. I don’t want her to feel like I’ve abandoned her, but I can’t find the words to tell her I’m leaving.
Rily licks my face. I’m too weak to push the puppy away. Em’s been talking while I’m thinking. She stops suddenly and sits up, her smile fading. Scouring my features, she takes a deep breath.
"Mama, is it time for you to go be with the angels?" she asks.
"I believe so, Em," I say in a steady voice. "I am sorry I have to leave you. I wish there was another way." I’m trying to be calm about this, but my soul is weeping for the child who will very soon not have a mother anymore.
Em slides back on my bed. She hugs me and starts to cry.
"Mama, will it hurt?" she sobs.
"No, my sweet baby girl. It won’t hurt. I will just go to sleep. I love you, Em." I can’t bring myself to say more. Of everything I’ve been through, this is the worst. Knowing how much I’m hurting those I love most.
Em lies with me for a while, alternately crying and kissing me. The voices of Mark and Katy resound through the house and quickly grow hushed. Mom must be whispering to them, because I can’t make out what they’re discussing. Soon after, they both enter my room, Angie in Katy’s arms and Mom trailing.
"Give Auntie a kiss," Katy tells Angie, bending over for the little girl to reach me.
Angie obeys, slobbering all over my cheek, then wraps her chubby arms around my neck. Katy tries to pull her away.
"I love you, Daddy," Angie tells me.
It hurts to laugh, but I can’t help it.
"See? I told you all she could say that!" Mark exclaims
I hear the front door close.
"Hey where is everyone?" Jett calls.
"BBQ, we are back here with Rye," says Mark.
"I’m going to call Sheila to pick up the girls, so we can have an adult family night," Mom says. She walks into the hall, stopping Jett before he reaches my room. I think I hear her tell him to call his father.
My poor Jett. I’m not sure how he is going to heal from this and find his strength. He’s been by my side every day, since we met up at the Walk. If he loves me nearly as much as I love him, healing wasn’t going to be easy.
"Give Rye another hug and say goodbye," Katy tells the girls.
Angie is first and offers me another slobbery kiss, telling me again she loves daddy. I just smile and tell her to always love daddy. Em is next, hugging and kissing me while tears drip down her cheeks.
"I love you, Mama. I’m not saying goodbye like Aunt Katy wants me to," she whispers. "I’ll see you soon, Mama."
My first tears fall, and I don’t know what to say.
"Sheila is waiting for you, Em." Mark bends down and picks her up off the bed.
Em loses it. She clings to him and bursts into raw, pain-filled sobs. She gives me a watery smile and a small wave at the door, then plunges again into heart-wrenching weeping.
I know this is the last time I’ll ever see my baby's face. I want her to come back, but I don’t want her to see me die. I’ve never felt this level of pain, a combination of agony, longing, like I’m being torn from this earth, away from everyone and everything I love. My only respite: it’ll be over soon.
Katy sits down beside me. I can tell she has no idea what to do or say. I wish I could help her, but again I am at a loss for words. I study her for a long minute, wanting to memorize how beautiful she is, with her blue eyes and dark brown hair.
"You’re so grown-up and beautiful," I whisper.
She smiles at me and wipes her eyes.
"Katy I am sorry to put this on you, but you will have to be strong for Mom, Em and Jett," I tell her. "You will be the one to help everyone through this, sis."
"Yes, Rye, but who will help me, who will make sure I don’t break?" A sob escapes with the word
s, and she buries her face in her hands.
Mark returns about the time she answers.
"I will, Babe," he tells her.
Katy begins to cry. Mark wraps her in his arms, and she sobs, much like Em and Mom have. Their embrace is achingly sweet. Again, I am so grateful Katy found someone as strong and noble like Mark.
At long last, Jett and Mom come in. Mom takes the chair beside my bed while Jett crawls right into bed beside me. It’s where he belongs. At my side, and I relax against his body, relieved he’s there to hold me.
He gently raises my head and places his arm beneath my neck. He hugs me against him.
"Can I come in?" It’s Madison in the doorway.
Mark waves him in, and he sits at the foot of our bed.
"How's everyone hanging in there?" he asks.
"Dad, really? That's all you could think to say?" Jett snaps at him.
"Jett, no one knows what to say in this situation," Mark returns.
"You’re right, son," Madison says. He looks at me. "I love you like my daughter, Rye."
I can’t imagine what he’s feeling. First, his wife, now me. Is being here giving him flashbacks to her death as well?
"Can you give me a hug, Madison?" I ask.
He obliges me and bends over to hug me. I whisper for his ears only.
"Don’t be sad for me, Madison," I tell him. "I’ll be with Mary and will tell her how much you love her."
"Oh, Rye," Madison’s voice is choked. "I am so honored you were chosen to be my daughter-in-law. I love you sweetie." He kisses my forehead and steps away from the bed.
Jett hugs me more tightly, and I know without looking that he’s crying. His body shakes.
"Honey, thank you for the beautiful life you have given me," Jett says, his warm breath tickling my ear."Today only, Rye. I will always love you, baby."
He didn’t have to say more. We already shared a lifetime of love, hope and happiness in the few short months we’ve known each other. He’s my heart, my love, the reason I am taking so many memories with me.
"Do you need anything, Rye?" Mom asks.
