Chapter Forty-Nine
It was like the accident all over again. I felt powerless — until Saylor grabbed my hand and didn’t let go. I used her strength — I used all of it. And for once I didn’t feel guilty for needing someone else. She was my savior. —Gabe H.
Gabe
Saylor held my hand as we walked into the room. It was nearing midnight, so the room was blanketed in black.
The only sound was that of the machine breathing for Princess, and the noises from her chest that would follow.
The ventilator was attached via a tracheotomy so that she could still talk, but Princess had stopped talking two days ago.
Now, she just stared at the ceiling, as if waiting for someone to call her home.
“Princess?” I kept my voice quiet, kneeling in front of her bed. Grabbing her hand, I whispered, “Kimmy, sweetheart?”
Her head turned, just enough so I could see the whites of her eyes. With a smile she nodded. “Tired, Ashton.”
“I know, sweetie,” I croaked. “I know you are.”
“Coughing.” She sighed, her chest rattling. “Hate this.”
“I know.” Was that the only phrase I could speak? I squeezed her hand tighter even though I knew she couldn’t feel it.
Her body was so broken that she couldn’t even feel my reassurance as I held on for dear life. And now her spirit was following that same body into heaven.
“I love you,” my voice cracked as tears trickled down my face. “But sweetheart, sometimes, it’s okay to stop fighting.”
“So tired,” she repeated.
“A nap sounds good, doesn’t it?” I said hoarsely. “Wouldn’t that feel good, sweetheart? To take a nice, long nap?” My voice cracked as Saylor came up behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“Yes…” Princess said slowly. “Ashton, will you sing me to sleep…” Her eyes welled with tears. “One more time?”
“Yeah,” I whispered through my tight throat “I can do that.”
“And Ashton?” she pleaded, her voice so weak I was sick to my stomach.
“What sweetheart?”
“Thanks for being my best friend.” Her voice was so weak, it was hard to discern what she was saying.
I nodded. I couldn’t talk. Whatever words were forming in my mind wouldn’t make sense. They’d come out as a pitiful sob.
Without letting go of her hand, I leaned in and started to sing, while Tara went and slowly started pulling the equipment from Kimmy’s throat and body.
“I love my Princess, my favorite girl. Every time I hear her laugh, I want to save the world — cause she’s my, my, my girl.” My voice cracked and wavered as my mind replayed images of our times together.
Our first movie, her laugh, her smile, the way she kissed me, the love she gave me. The gift of her life was more than I’d ever deserve.
I kept singing. “My girl, my girl, she’ll always be my girl, and when the tears fall from her eyes, I’ll swear to never let her cry… never alone, never without me, never without us together. My girl, her and I will rule forever. My girl. She’ll forever be my girl.”
Princess smiled and closed her eyes.
Her chest stopped moving.
I knew she was gone — and I knew in that moment that God had received another princess into his arms. It happened so swiftly so beautifully that had I not been watching her face, I would have never known that she’d slipped away.
A vision of Kimmy running through Heaven brought a sad smile to my face — she was gone. And she was finally whole.