What Dreams Are Made Of

1.

*Calvin's POV*

"Calvin." Is all I hear being whispered in my room right now as my bed sinks down.

And I tried to pretend I was asleep.

To simply avoid the words I'm about to hear.

I've been dreading these words for 6 months now, because I knew they were coming.

But I didn't want them to come so soon.

Having a parent who is diagnosed as terminally ill, you know they're going to come eventually despite all the praying, all the wishing on stars, dreaming about your future with them in it knowing that it's all just, not going to work.

I knew it wasn't going to work, but God did I want it too.

"Baby." I felt my grandmother rub my back. "I need you to roll over and look at me. I know you're awake love, because your bed is shaking so hard I'm scared I might fall out of it."

I held my breath, rolled over, and opened my eyes to see my dads mother, tears streaming down her face, lip quivering, trying her darndest to hold it together right now for Brayden and I.

"Your dad called." She nodded. "I need you to get out of bed so I can get the two of you to the hospital."

I scrunched my face and shook my head.

"I know honey." She laid down with me and wrapped me up so tight I felt like I was suffocating. "I know this will forever be the hardest thing you'll do. But I promise you, even though this is the last thing you want to do, you'll regret it in the long run if you don't go say goodbye."

I don't even think I can speak in this very moment, let alone go say goodbye to the woman who made me.

And I know I didn't want to speak.

So I gathered up everything I could for the sake of my mom, dad, and Brayden, I rolled out of bed, threw a shirt on, and followed my grandma down to Brayden's room.

My dad isn't here at the moment, so right now, I need to step up for Brayden.

Under very few circumstances should a 13 year old boy be stepping up for his 10 year old brother, but a 13 and 10 year old boy should never have to go through what we're about to.

I took a deep breath. "Gram, can I do it please?"

Her face sunk. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "He should hear it from me."

She rubbed my back and motioned for me to go in.

I slid the door open quietly, walked over, and sat on his bed. "B."

He groaned and rolled over. "What?"

"You uh, you have to get up. Dad called."

And the second I said it, his face fell and he shook his head.

"Yeah." I nodded. "It's time. And, we need to be there to say goodbye."

Without a fight, he got up, got dressed, and we both filed in to my grandma's car.

When we got there, neither of us let go of each others hands.

If we're being honest, the entire thing is a blur.

I know I spoke, her words were barely comprehendible, but I carried out the conversation like our therapist told me to when this moment came.

I know she asked the nurses to turn her monitor off so we wouldn't hear the beeping, and her pain medication was discontinued once we got there.