I’m supposed to be a man. A man’s man, the ones who can do anything. I’m a goddamn Navy SEAL. I’ve been to war and seen some awful shit. I’ve battled through things most men can only imagine. Yet here I stand like a little bitch hesitating to open that door.
This is the woman who fucking raised me. She gave me everything. Taught me how to treat a woman, slapped me around when I did it wrong. I never really thought about what it would be like to lose a parent. They’re still young and I’m not ready to lose her.
“Liam,” Natalie encourages. Her thin arms stay wrapped around me as if she’s holding me together. And right now—she is. I look down at her and wait for some sort of courage to arrive. But it’s there in her eyes. Her strength and love are there in her face. Even with all the crap that’s come between us, she’s been strong.
I nod and open the door. She lies there with tubes and monitors everywhere. The steady beeping tells me that she’s alive, but only thanks to the machines. A white sheet is draped over her, keeping her warm, but everything around me is ice cold.
I step toward her slowly. Her chest rises and falls, but there’s no life there. All I can pray for is that she doesn’t feel any pain.
“Hi, Mom,” I say as I reach her bedside. “I got here as soon as I could. It’s a long story, but you know how it goes.” I try to stay strong, but this is my mother. The woman who apparently did diapers and didn’t rip the tabs. She’s the one who wiped my knee and made me a cape when I needed to be Superman. Shannon Dempsey is the strongest woman in the world. She had kids, buried one, raised another, and I never saw her break down and lose it. I swear she could run laps around the SEALs and put us all to shame.
I failed her. I wasn’t here to protect her.
“Please wake up, Mom. I don’t know that there’s any chance, but I’m begging you, please, if you can . . . do it now. I’m sorry . . . for so many things. I don’t know how to say goodbye to you like this.” I need to take a second, because I’m going to lose it.
Natalie rubs her fingers down my arm, and I close my eyes. “Hi, Mrs. Dempsey. We met once, but I’m Natalie.”
The woman of my dreams stands here talking to my mother while I try to keep it together. She gives me the out so I don’t feel so weak.
“I remember you loved to bake. I wish I had the chance to learn from you since I literally am the worst.” Natalie smiles and releases my hand. Before I can grab it back, she grips my mother’s. “Thank you for giving Liam life. Thank you for raising him to be the man he is. I’ll be eternally grateful to you for the joy he’s brought into my life.” Natalie looks over at me with tears streaming down her face. “He loves me more than I deserve. He loves my daughter and he’s given me more than he’ll ever understand.” She turns back, and I wipe my eyes. “I can only hope to raise my children to be like the man you’ve raised. He really is the best man I’ve ever known, and I attribute that to you, so thank you.”
She leans down and kisses my mother’s cheek. A woman she’s only met once. Then she whispers in her ear and squeezes her hand once more.
That’s my undoing.
I fall to my knees and they hit the cold tile. My head falls on the side of the bed and I grip my mother’s leg. “Haven’t we lost enough? Hasn’t my family suffered enough?” I mutter aloud.
We grew up with strict Irish-Catholic parents. Mom stayed home, but I think she worked harder than my father. He got to go to work and come home after Mom had the entire house cleaned and food on the table. Dad is a lawyer and worked his ass off to put me and Krissy in private school. He showed me that hard work was for the family, and when you want something, you don’t slack off. You push harder and make your own destiny. So why can’t I work to make her better?
“Talk to her, Liam,” Natalie encourages while I keep my head bowed. I can’t let her see me like this. “Tell her what you want to let her know. She loves you.” Her soft voice calms me and I try to hold it, but it’s all too fucking much. Everything crashes around me and I remember my sister. I remember her telling me the same thing. She would always tell me that Mom loved me, so I could tell her the truth.