“You take the good with the bad. It’s all part of the package. Remember?” I leaned down and held her face next to mine, feeling her breath on my cheek. Please let her live, I prayed. Oh God, please don’t let this happen. We talked for as long as we could before Meghan grew tired and closed her eyes. Jim and Allison stood beside me and we watched her breathe, and waited. It was the only thing left to do.
• • •
It was a few minutes before eleven when Dr. Goetz ran into Meghan’s room and told us a liver was available. Seconds later two orderlies came into the room and pushed Meghan’s bed down the hall. The room was spinning; everything was happening so fast. We ran into the hall, prepared to follow the orderlies who were pushing Meghan to the OR, but Dr. Goetz stopped us. He told us about Meghan’s donor: It was the miracle Meghan had been holding on to but it came at such a price.
It was late on Christmas night, and Charlie was on the sofa with Rich flipping through the picture book of Alaska he had unwrapped that morning. Charlie had already looked through it several times but was now going through it page by page with Rich. “Tell me about Alaska, Dad.”
“Which part?”
“All of it. I want to hear about the birds with the colorful bills that sit on the water and about the dolphins and whales and the mountains. All of it.”
“But we’re going to go there someday, then you’ll see it all for yourself.”
“Tell me now, Dad,” he said, whispering. “Tell me now so I can see it.” Rich wrapped his arm around Charlie and pulled him closer, resting Charlie’s head on his shoulder, and began to tell him one story after another till Charlie closed his eyes and slept. Death was quiet when it came that night. Several minutes into his story, Rich heard Charlie’s breathing stop and screamed for Leslie. They called for an ambulance, but knew it was too late. His heart had stopped. Looking back, I was amazed at the strength my father and grandmother had as my mother was dying. Grieving parents were granted that same strength when they needed it most. An indescribable peace surrounded Rich and Leslie as they held on to Charlie, kissing him and thanking him for being their son.
Somehow, in the middle of their grief, Rich and Leslie made it known that Charlie wanted his liver to be tested to see if it could be a match for Meghan and that he wanted any of his healthy organs to help anyone who needed them. At first, Rich thought Charlie’s liver might have been damaged from medications, but it was healthy and as close to an ideal match as possible.
We would not tell Meghan about Charlie until well after the transplant. It was an indescribable, bittersweet miracle that left all of us conflicted with feelings of loss and joy, grief and hope.
Soon after my mother died, my grandmother scribbled something on a pink notepad and taped it to her bathroom mirror. I read it again and again when I was a boy, never fully comprehending it. It read, Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face-to-face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully . . . And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love. It was the longer look my grandmother had tried to tell me about. One day we’d know everything, but for now we would live with so many unanswered questions.
It was Love that came down on Christmas, my mother said. That is the greatest miracle of all. That is the blessing of Christmas. It is love that requires us to do the hardest thing in impossible situations. It was love that compelled Rich and Leslie Bennett to think of someone else’s life during their greatest tragedy.
My heart broke for Rich and Leslie, for Meghan, and for all of us who had been touched by Charlie’s life. How could Rich and Leslie think of someone else as they held Charlie in their arms? But I knew. Of course I knew: And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
TWELVE
The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is mingled with grief, love grows perhaps the greater.
—J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
I heard a knock on the door and opened it to see William. “Turn on the news,” he said, brushing past me. He flipped on the television, and I sat on the sofa. Footage of Meghan winning a race in early fall was playing. I flipped to another channel and that station was running a story about her and Charlie as well. “How do you explain your ability to run so fast?” the reporter asked after a race. Meghan threw her arm over Michele’s shoulder.
“I don’t really know, but I think we’ve all been given something, you know? Some sort of gift that we’re supposed to unwrap and give away. I think running was my gift.” I leaned my head on the back of the sofa, listening to her.
“And how could you give that away?” the reporter asked. Meghan was embarrassed, and she looked down at the ground.
“I want to raise money for pediatric heart patients and help them go to college. I know it’s nothing huge but I hope it can help in a small way because even the smallest ripple can change the shape of water.” She squinted as she looked toward the camera. The reporter spoke of the scholarship race Meghan had been organizing and showed some of the tiny heart patients at the hospital. Pictures of Charlie flashed on the screen, and the reporter spoke about their friendship. I sat up and watched them replay the tape of Meghan running across the finish line, smiling.
William went with me to the funeral. We drove to the church but had to park several blocks away. We walked in silence with the rest of the crowd and saw Dr. Goetz helping his wife out of their car. William and I walked into the church together, which overflowed with members of the church, along with Meghan’s team, who loved Charlie. They all wore running suits in honor of his relationship with them. Denise and Claudia and several of the pediatrics staff members sat in a row together. William and I sat a few rows behind Jim, Luke, and Olivia. Allison stayed with Meghan in the hospital. Charlie’s teacher spoke at his funeral, along with Dr. Goetz and the minister. Charlie would have been embarrassed at the fuss everyone was making. I could see him cracking his knuckles in nervous anticipation of the whole thing just being over and done.
William and I stepped outside the church at the end of the service and the wind shrieked when I opened the door. I felt a little hand grab mine, and I looked down to see Olivia.
“It’s so cold, Olivia,” I said, leading her toward the door. “Why don’t you go back inside?”
“My mom says Charlie isn’t here. She said he’s already in Heaven.”
“That’s right.” The wind picked up her hair, and she closed her eyes. I pulled the hood of her coat over her head.
“Did God take Charlie to Heaven so Meghan could live?”
I sat down on the top step so I could look at her. “No,” I said, remembering the words my mother had said to me. “God didn’t take Charlie to Heaven. He received him: There’s a big difference.” She looked at me, trying to understand what I was saying. “Life took Charlie away from us.”
“Why?”
“Because he was human.”
After the funeral, I drove to my father’s house, but he, Rachel, and Gramma weren’t home. I noticed photo albums and the box of letters strewn on top of my grandmother’s bed. It looked as if she was in the middle of cleaning out her closet. I sat on the bed and started rifling through the albums. There is a distinct break in one of the albums: The pictures go from the entire family together to ones that no longer include my mother. The rest of that album took over three years to fill. I reached for a letter that was sitting on top of another photo album and instead of discarding it back to the pile I opened it, recognizing my handwriting as a teenager:
Dear Mom,
I often wonder how those doctors treated you when you went to the hospital for tests. I wonder how they made you feel. Did they scare you or were they good to you, sitting by your side and making you feel safe? I wonder if they took the time to talk and get to know you. I wonder if they ever knew what a great mom you were or how you
could make Dad laugh. I wonder if they felt bad when you passed away, or if they even knew. I wonder if they realized what the world missed when you died?
I miss you and love you every day,
Nathan
I held on to the letter as tears blurred my vision. It contained the reasons why I wanted to become a physician: Not because I thought I could save everyone but because I wanted each patient to know that he or she was being cared for to the very end. It was what my mother had tried to teach me before she died—the pain of living without her would help me care for others. It wasn’t a weakness as I had thought for so long; it was my gift. Just as Meghan said.
THIRTEEN
You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. . . . You must do the thing you think you cannot do.
—Eleanor Roosevelt
Robert Layton cradled his grandson, Evan, with one arm and picked the phone up in his den with the other. He dialed a number written in his personal address book. “Allen,” Robert said, bouncing Evan up and down. “Are you still in the Christmas spirit?” Robert hung up the phone, wrote something on a legal pad, and dialed the next number. “Larry, this is Robert. I need your help.” After several phone calls, Robert went to the kitchen and fixed a bottle for Evan.
“I can take him, Dad,” his daughter Hannah said. Robert held the baby away from her.
“Don’t even think about taking him. He’s Grandpa’s buddy.” Robert stuck the warm bottle in Evan’s mouth. “Aren’t you Grandpa’s buddy?” He whispered in the baby’s ear. “Come on, let’s get back to work.” He slipped back inside his den.
“What are you working on in there, Dad?” Hannah said.
“Top-secret stuff,” Robert said, holding the phone to his ear. “Gray, it’s Robert Layton.” He yelled into the phone. “Robert Layton! Can you hear me? Good. Do you have a second, Gray? I need your help with something.” When Kate heard Robert shouting she stuck her head inside the den. He saw her and waved his hand, shooing her away.
He hung up the receiver, jotted something on his legal pad, and smiled before picking up the phone again.
I showered and reached toward the bathroom counter for the watch my mother had given me. I paused, then picked it up and looked at the time; it was running ten minutes behind. I didn’t tap the face of it, but flipped it over to the inscription on the back: With all the love in the world, Mom. I ran my finger over the inscription and pulled out a piece of paper from my backpack and sat down at the table and began writing:
Dear Mom,
I think it’s time to put away the watch you gave me. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you; it just means it’s time to move on.
With all the love in the world,
Nathan
I put the watch and letter next to a picture of my mother and me on top of the chest of drawers and reached for the watch Meghan had given me. I put it on and finished dressing. My time at the hospital was done, but I went there anyway and lingered around a closed office door.
Dr. Goetz arrived a few minutes later with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Come on in,” he said, unlocking the door. He looked tired; it had been a rough week. He offered me a seat, and I sat down, unzipping my coat. I knew he was wondering why I was there.
“Do patients know they’re dying?”
“Some of them do.”
“Do you think he knew?”
“I think he always knew. That’s why he lived the way he did.”
“Do you ever get used to it?”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking at the ceiling. “No.” He looked at me. “But you learn to accept it.” He was quiet. “Sometimes it’s just harder to accept.”
Though I had gone over what I wanted to say several times in my head, I found myself stammering for the right words. “I would like to be part of your rotation again.”
Dr. Goetz stirred his coffee and stared at me.
“Why?”
I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. “Because someone recently told me that you need to run with somebody better than you.” Dr. Goetz smiled; he understood the reference. “That if I want to be the best, I have to run with the best.” He sipped his coffee.
“That’s good advice.”
“Someone else said that we need to keep our eyes on the goal . . . if we take our eyes off the goal, we’ll never make it to the end.” He swallowed hard and looked at me, studying my face.
“It’s not going to be any easier.”
“I know that.”
“What makes you think you can stick it out this time?”
“Because I can’t just leave. If I could walk away, I would; but I’d never be happy.” He leaned back and studied my face. I knew he believed me. “And, to answer your question . . . medicine is a calling.” He nodded, and I could see the corners of his mouth turn up just a bit.
“There are things that I cannot tolerate from med students, Mr. Andrews. If you arrive late for a rotation, that shows me that . . .” I held up my wrist, stopping him.
“That will never happen again. I have a new watch.” He smiled and cleared his throat. “Dr. Goetz, I need to apologize to you because I’ve made a lot of mistakes and—”
“So, are you here to waste my morning by telling me all the mistakes you’ve made, or are you here to start over?”
“I’d like to start over,” I said, smiling.
• • •
Denise looked inside Meghan’s room. Meghan had been moved out of ICU only days earlier into the step-down unit. “People are calling from all over about the scholarship run,” Denise said, holding on to paperwork. “Two separate law firms alone have donated 5000 each.” Jim and Allison sat in silence, listening. “Just within the last several days, $25,000 has been donated.” Meghan gasped. Allison threw her hands over her face and cried. The scholarship fund would be bigger than what Meghan had ever dreamed.
My mind recalled a piece of conversation I had had with Meghan. “Some attorney in Jefferson gave $500,” she said. Could Robert Layton be that attorney? I followed Denise into the hallway and looked over the donation sheets—there it was, Layton and Associates for $500. I called him, and Robert asked me to bring Dad and Gramma to his house that weekend for dinner.
When we arrived, Kate opened the door. She was a beautiful woman. I could see why Robert fell for her nearly thirty years ago. She threw open her arms and wrapped them around me. “You really do exist.” Kate was as accessible in spirit as Robert. “For so many years I wondered what happened to you,” she said to me. “Now look at you, sitting in our house and looking back at me!” Robert walked in through the garage door carrying an armful of firewood. Dad jumped up to help.
“Sit down, Jack,” Kate said, springing to her feet. “You’re our guest. Robert can get it.” Robert grunted as he bent to the floor, easing the wood into the bin on the hearth.
“When a man’s arms are breaking, Kate, and another man offers to help . . . let him help.” He greeted all of us with a hug, then said, “Can I bring out some hors d’oeuvres and drinks for everybody?” Kate moved toward the kitchen to help.
“Let me help with that,” I said, following Robert into the kitchen. I wanted to ask Robert about the law firms and businesses that had donated money to the run, but didn’t know how to bring it up.
“How’s Meghan today?” he asked.
“She’s great. Doctors see improvement every day.”
“Does she know about Charlie?”
“Her mom and dad and Charlie’s parents told her about a week after the funeral. She didn’t take the news very well. How could she?” Robert didn’t say anything. There was nothing anyone could ever say. I looked at Robert and tried to think of a way to ask him about the donations to the scholarship run. He gave me an opening.
“What’s up?” he said.
“There’s been this outpouring of donations for Meghan’s scholarship run from lawyers and co
mpanies that the hospital hasn’t heard of, people the Sullivans don’t even know.” Robert was listening with interest; he knew I was on to him. “It seems that someone is doing some staggering fund-raising for this run.” Robert was nonchalant, impressed only with the scholarship run itself.
“Probably a friend of hers who wants to help.”
“It seems to me that this friend is someone the Sullivans don’t know, someone they’ve never met.” Robert pulled glasses from the cupboard and began filling them with ice. “The Sullivans are trying to come up with a name for the race. I thought maybe they should name it after the person who’s been so influential in fund-raising, what do you think?” Robert replaced the ice bin to the freezer and smiled.
“I think they should call it whatever Meghan wants.”
“But maybe people should know that someone else was responsible for . . .” He held up his hand, cutting me off.
“This is Meghan’s gift to someone. She should be the one giving it away.” I watched him fill the glasses with ice before asking him what had been on my mind for so long.
“How’d you ever donate to the run in the first place?”
“She called my office one day and my assistant walked to my desk and said I should take the call. I knew it was important to Jodie; she’s a runner, so when Meghan asked for a donation, I couldn’t refuse that sweet voice.”
The Christmas Blessing Page 14
