Every Bright and Broken Thing

6 Years Ago - Liam

The sound of the beep and hum of an endless assortment of machines branded itself in the caverns of my mind. If I closed my eyes, that sound was all I could hear. Here at Mom's side in the hospital, it was the only sound left in the universe. As if all the world's music had been replaced by the white noise of death.

I watched her chest rise and fall with every sharp, jagged breath. It seemed with every inhale and exhale that less breath returned to her body. And with every breath that disappeared, swallowed by the vacuum of space, the fingers of death took their place.

This room is marked by prayer. Dad's prayers. Ezra's prayers. My prayers. Mom's most of all. But as I listened and as time wore on, her prayers took on a new shape. No longer did she pray for healing for her body. Instead, her prayers turned toward us. Prayers of comfort, hope, peace.

And that terrified me.

Because I think that meant she'd stopped believing she would get better. But I wasn't ready to believe that. Not yet. Not ever.

"Hi, honey," came the voice from between her thin, frail lips. I moved to her side and leaned in close. I didn't want to miss a thing.

"Hi, Mom. How are you feeling?" At ten-years-old I should've been playing video games, hiding a secret crush, and building blanket forts with Lincoln. Instead, I was staring death in the face and learning just how cruel life could be. It was too much to understand and the only question I had left was: why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

"I'm fine, sweet boy," she said, lifting a hand so bony and fragile that it looked like porcelain. She brushed the backs of her fingers across my cheekbone and I felt for the first time the chill in her skin. "Can you hand me my cup of water?"

I nodded sharply and moved so fast to retrieve the water that I accidentally knocked it over. The paper cup fell off the end table and spilled all over the floor, splashing my sneakers. My bottom lip quivered as I looked down at my mess.

"Mama, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... I-" I couldn't stop the flood that exploded and I frantically searched the room for something to clean up the spill. But she gripped my arm tighter than I thought possible and turned me toward her. She sat upright, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. My eyes wide and wet, I stared up at her as she pulled me close.

"Shhh..." She held my face between her hands. Her skin was so cold. Her body so small. As I cried, she pulled me against her and held me for the first time in a long time. I clung to her and I didn't want to let go. Not now. Not ever.

"Don't leave," I told her.

She stroked my hair and held me tight. "Never. I'll always be with you. Just remember to breathe, okay? Because that's where I'll be - in the space between breaths. Like this."

She pulled back and lifted my chin and we began to breathe together.

In,

out.

Inhale,

exhale.

One,

two.

There she was, in the space between breaths.