It took a while to coax Clara away from Neena so they could take her. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Clara collapsed, her body racked with sobs. She was so emotional she could barely breathe. Marcus and Mei-ling left. They just couldn’t take seeing her that way. They felt lost themselves. I told Karen we needed to be alone and she quickly packed her supplies and left. I scooped Clara up and carried her upstairs, setting her on the toilet. I ran a bath and as the tub filled, I undressed us both. I pulled her to her feet, and we stepped in together, me sitting down first, then her between my legs. The back of her head lay against my chest as I squeezed water from a washcloth over her chest, neck, and shoulders. She wouldn’t talk. Her body shook as she sucked in ragged breaths. The sounds she made as she sobbed were those of torture. It was the sound of my own despair. I also didn’t speak. Words were just that—words. I focused on making her feel me. My presence. That I was with her.
After our bath, I dried her off and wrapped us each in a towel and led her to the bed. I curled my body to hers and kissed her neck softly as I gently rubbed her arm. I don’t know how long we lay there before she fell asleep, but I refused to move. I didn’t want to do anything to disturb her short moment of peace.
As for me, I’ve never hurt so badly in my life. I’ve always thought of myself as a tough guy, but this . . . loosing Neena . . . it’s choking. But when Neena told me her wishes for after she passed, this was one of them.
“Promise me you’ll take care of Mom. Be strong for her. Don’t let her die with me. Promise me, Dad.”
That night I closed my eyes as I inched a little closer to Clara. With my mouth to Clara’s shoulder, I whispered, “I’ll take care of her, princess. I promise.”
The viewing was lovely, minus the reporters that gawked outside of our home and the funeral home. Desperately Seeking Epic touched so many people. The world mourned a little girl they’d never even met.
It’s been a month since she left us. With each day, I feel it getting a little easier to breathe. I miss her. It’s almost like a weight around my neck I miss her so badly. There are days when I open my eyes and expect to see her watching me with a camera in her hands, pointed at me.
Since the day her ashes were given to us, Paul has separated small amounts into tiny Baggies. Neena always wanted to travel. Now she would. We’ll take a little bit of her to Brazil, China, and a few other places. This was her request. The remainder is in my lap right now as I sit in the front area of Sky High. Mills is setting up his laptop to show us something he says Neena left for us. Paul is beside me, with Marcus beside him. Ashley and Zane are standing to the side.
When it’s all set up, Mills turns to us and says, “You guys ready?”
I’m already weepy, but I nod yes. Paul rubs my back as Mills hits play and the screen comes to life.
The first thing we see is Neena.
“Hi, Mom, Dad, Marcus,” she says. Her big, brown eyes stare at us through the screen and my heart wants to burst out of my chest. Her scalp is bald, which tells me she must have recorded this a while ago, before things got really bad.
“I just wanted to tell you I love you one more time. And I wanted to say thank you for loving me. I wanted to show you some of my favorite memories and moments. I wanted you to see my life through my eyes.” She smiles and looks off as if she’s thinking, then her gaze moves back to the camera. “So here it is.”
I wipe my nose with a tissue as the screen flicks back to life. It’s video footage that Marcus took of me holding Neena the day she was born. That’s followed by several clips of me bathing her for the first time, her sleeping in her crib, and me feeding her peas as she dribbled it out of her mouth. The clips are short, but they go on and on, reminding me of the beautiful baby and toddler she once was. Some of the footage flips to her with Marcus when I was recording them. We laugh at one where Neena was three and trying to hit a ball off a stand. She accidentally swung it the wrong way and clocked Marcus in the face. Another is of the two of them holding hands as they jump into the pool together. My little girl was so healthy then. We’re crying and laughing all at once, the happy memories so heartbreaking. Eventually the footage switches to things Neena recorded: me singing as I dry my hair, and me pulling burnt cookies out of the oven as I wince against the clouds of smoke. Then there’s Paul. Short clips of some of his stunts, then of the first night she met him when I opened the door. She’d zoomed in on us, the way we looked at each other. It’s amazing the things she captured, what she saw, and how she’s showing us the world through her eyes. Everyone laughs at the footage of Paul and Marcus wrestling, their faces beet red as they huff. Then there’s the footage of Paul and I asleep, his arm around me. We look so peaceful. My favorite is the shaving footages, when she filmed Paul shaving my face, then I filmed her shaving his. That was a good day. The last image is just a shot of our table where she carved her name under Paul’s.
The screen goes back to her, a big smile on her face, her eyes glossed over with emotion.
“Remember . . . no good-byes,” she reminds us. “There’s only see you later. And until we meet again.”
She blows us a kiss.
“See you later, alligators.” And then she’s gone. I clutch the urn of her ashes in my lap as if I’m hugging her. Paul sniffles beside me and clears his throat. Even Marcus is sniffling. Mills closes the laptop and pulls out the USB memory stick. He hands it to Paul. Paul takes it and clutches it in his hand, nodding a thank you to him.
Once we’ve collected ourselves, we load in our cars and head to the airfield. My heart is thundering and I hold the urn tightly.