PART 3: Even After Everything
The following morning, the three of us went to the hospital. Daniel was sitting upright when we walked in. The moment he noticed the children, his expression changed. "Emma. Josh."
Emma came to a halt at the foot of his bed. "Why didn’t you tell us?" Daniel dropped his gaze.
"I knew if I told you, you’d want to help. I imagined you missing classes, turning down opportunities, and spending your free time taking care of me. I thought staying away would protect you from that."
"So you made us think you were a cheating husband instead?" Emma asked. Tears filled his eyes. "I thought you’d eventually move on. Then I was ashamed, and I didn’t know how to tell you the truth."
Josh shook his head. "We would have helped you, Dad." "I know." "You didn’t even give us the chance."
Daniel broke down. "I was afraid of becoming a burden. I convinced myself that staying away was the kindest thing I could do."
Emma wiped her face. "Well, it wasn’t." "I know. I’m so sorry." Silence settled over the room for a moment.
Then Emma brought a chair up beside the bed. "I don’t know if I can forgive you yet." "You don’t have to." She took his hand. "But I’m here."
Josh stepped around to the other side and rested a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. For the first time in five years, all four of us were together in the same room.
Two days afterward, Daniel moved to a hospice. He was much weaker by then. Sitting up required help, and even talking wore him out. The nurses told us his condition was declining rapidly. Their attention was on easing his symptoms and making him comfortable.
Emma and Josh came every day. Sometimes we simply kept him company in silence. At other times, we went through photographs and shared memories of things he had missed.
On Thursday afternoon, Emma arrived with a picture of Daniel teaching her to ride her bicycle. "Remember this?" she asked. A small smile touched his mouth. "You fell into the bushes."
Emma laughed through her tears. "Because you let go!" "You told me to." "I was seven!" For a brief moment, Daniel laughed with her.
Later, the children went downstairs to get coffee. Daniel asked me to remain with him. "Do you hate me?" he whispered.
I looked into his face. "I did for a long time." His eyes closed. "I don’t blame you."
"I don’t hate you now, Daniel. But I’m still hurt." "I know."
"If you’d told me five years ago, maybe we’d still be married. Maybe things would have been difficult. But we would have made those decisions together."
A tear ran down his cheek. "I should have trusted you." "Yes. You should have."
He reached out for my hand. "I can’t give you those years back." "No," I whispered. "You can’t."
I kept his hand in mine until he drifted off to sleep.
That evening, a hospice nurse explained that Daniel was getting worse and urged us to spend as much time with him as we could. I called Emma and Josh and asked them to return in the morning.
On Friday, precisely one week after his call from the hospital, I reached the hospice before breakfast. Emma and Josh had arrived ahead of me. Daniel lay asleep, breathing slowly and unevenly.
The nurse told us he was approaching the end of his life. We moved our chairs close. Emma took his left hand, and Josh sat beside her. I settled on Daniel’s right. For a time, none of us said anything.
Then Josh brought out his phone and played an old jazz song, one Daniel used to put on during Sunday mornings. Daniel opened his eyes for a moment.
"Remember the pancakes, Dad?" Emma whispered. A faint smile appeared on his face. "You always wanted chocolate chips." She laughed through her tears. "Every Sunday."
Daniel turned his eyes toward me. "Claire?" "I’m here."
I could barely hear his voice. "Will you stay?" I leaned toward him and took his hand. "Yes, Daniel."
"Even after everything?" "Even after everything."
His fingers tightened weakly around mine. "Thank you."
I swept the hair back from his forehead. "You can rest now. We’re all here." His eyes gradually shut. We remained beside him while the music continued softly.
After a while, his breathing slowed further. The pauses between breaths grew longer. Then he drew one last breath.
I waited with his hand still in mine. The nurse approached, examined him, and gently told us he had died.
Emma sobbed against Josh’s shoulder. I bent over Daniel and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Goodbye," I whispered.
Then I carefully drew the blanket over his hand and remained at his side while our children cried.
