Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Head bowed and her tiny hands clutched in mine, I stayed at her bedside for hours. I caressed her hair and kissed her fingers and gazed down at her sweet, angelic face, selfishly hoping that a miracle was still possible.
That she hadn’t really left me.
That I hadn’t just lost half of my fucking heart.
I don’t know how long Charlie and Breezy let me stay like that, but eventually, they found a way to get me to walk out of Summer’s bedroom just as Dr. Brock had arrived to make the official pronouncement of death.
“Bennett, why don’t you just pull up a chair and sit by her bed while I—”
“No.” I shake my head again. “I need to do this.”
She’s still hesitant, I can tell by the way she slowly steps back to let me take over, but I know with every cell of my body, with every ounce of love I have for my daughter, I need to be the one to do this.
I need to be the last one to give my sweet Summer a bath.
I take the washcloth from Charlie’s outstretched hand, and I start the process of preparing my baby for her final rest.
I wash her arms and her hands, taking extra time to gaze at her small fingers. I wash her shoulders and her belly. Her legs and her feet, smiling through my tears when I see the glittery pink nail polish on her toes.
I wash her hair, and when I need to reach her back, Charlie helps me gently turn her on her side.
I dry her skin with a fresh towel, and Charlie helps me put a new gown on her body.
Once I’m done, once my Summer is clean, I climb into the bed beside her.
“You are the greatest gift I have ever been given, and the one thing that I will always be most proud of is being your dad,” I whisper into her hair, kissing the top of her head as I stifle the sob that wants to vibrate out of my chest. “I hate that you had to leave me so soon, but I’m so happy you’re no longer in pain. I’m so happy that you’re free from the constraints of a disease you didn’t deserve.”
I take one of her tiny hands in mine, admiring how small it looks within my big one before I hold it against my lips. “Oh, how I’m going to miss your smiles and your giggles and the way you roll your eyes at me when you think I’m being annoying.
“I’m going to miss you being in the studio, telling me to use the color pink, and taking rides in the golf cart. I’m going to miss the way the room brightened the instant you were in it and how the sound of your sweet voice was always music to my ears.” I can barely breathe, but I keep talking. “I’m going to miss you so much, Summblebee.”
My voice chokes on a sob as it barrels out of my lungs. And when tears start to flow unchecked down my face, I wrap Summer into my arms, and I hug her.
I hug her in the way I’ve always craved to hug her but couldn’t.
I hug her like this hug will make up for all of the hugs we missed out on.
I hug her like it’s the first and the last hug I’ll ever give her.
Because it is.
My Summer is gone. But by the grace of God, so is her pain.
Friday, September 10th
Norah
Mayor Wallace and Sheriff Peeler carry the back of the casket while Bennett and Clay carry the front, the whole town gathered together to put one of the best people I’ve ever known to rest.
There are so many people here, if I listed them off, I’d be doing it until next week. Even Lillian is here from New York, rearranging her schedule to come as soon as I told her about the arrangements.
Starkly missing, however, are Bennett’s parents and brother Logan. I suppose, given his history with all of them, it’s probably a good thing, but in my heart of hearts, I cannot imagine being so callous toward my son or brother.
The wind carries a frigid chill, and it’s just as I imagined a Summer-less world would feel. I pull my black cardigan around my body tighter, and Josie steps closer to wrap an arm around my shoulders.
“You okay?” she whispers.
I shake my head. I’ve never been less okay in my life.
After allowing myself a deep breath first, I steel my spine and lock my knees to keep them from collapsing. Bennett’s face is sallow, it’s so sunken, and the tips of his fingers are white with the painful grip he has on the casket. His hurt only confounds my own, and I have to look away when they set the wooden box on the lift that will lower it into the ground because it takes him more than a long moment to let go.