Wish Upon A Sunset

We Meet Again

Emma

Present Day...

"Emma?" The nurse's voice, laced with concern, brought me out of the past and I wiped the tears from my face, blinking rapidly as the memory faded.

I gave the nurse an embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that. I don't know what came over me." These visions were getting worse, and they felt more and more real each time, like I was back there, reliving every moment.

Her smile radiated compassion, erasing any trace of judgment from her eyes. "No worries. I completely understand," she said as she reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeezed her hand back, grateful for the small amount of strength that slight gesture seemed to give me.

I sat down gently next to Grace, so as not to startle her. I reached over and grabbed her hand, but her tiny fingers sat still in mine.

A knot of despair tightened in my chest, threatening to choke me with its intensity.

Not for the first time, I wondered how this strong, beautiful soul was coping with the major life changes that had been imposed on her, and it pained me to know that I would never fully understand. She never made a full recovery after her accident, just like the doctor had predicted. The broken neck had put her into a vegetative state, also known as unresponsive wakefulness syndrome, which meant that-though she was awake-she could not see, hear, talk or move her limbs, and she had to be fed from a tube in her stomach.

I did not know what it felt like to live only in your mind, but I could only imagine it to be a dark and lonely place. To be trapped in your own head would be terrifying at best, and I would like to think that only the strongest of souls could endure that kind of torture. My only consolation was the hope that because it had happened at such a young age, it wasn't as terrible as I would envision it to be.

Grace had been living like this for six years now.

Six years of never knowing what it was like to be a normal child; to play with friends, bond with family, enjoy the beautiful things in life. No soothing music, no colorful sights, no wonderment or joy. That wasn't a fate I would wish on my worst enemy.

All I could do was hope. Hope for a fantastic life full of light and laughter for my beautiful daughter. I sniffed back more tears and squeezed her hand tighter. Shame made it difficult for me to say anything to her, and yet I wanted her to hear my voice. Her mother's voice.

"Oh, I brought this for you." Candace said as she handed me a yellow piece of fabric folded and tied with a pink ribbon.

I took it from her hesitantly, and my voice trembled when I asked, "W-what is it?"

She squeezed my shoulder and sent me another smile as she took a seat next to me. "It's one of Grace's baby blankets. I thought you might like to have it."

Joy and gratitude swept through me at this wonderful gift and a bitter taste filled my mouth at the less than kind thoughts I had of her earlier. I hugged it close to me and took a deep breath, surrounded by my daughter's distinct smell. "Thank you!" I choked out. "This is...I don't...I don't have the words to express how appreciative I am of this. Thank you."

A noise from behind me made me uncomfortably aware of the social worker sitting at the table, jotting down notes, watching my every move. I tried to ignore her presence and glanced over at Tristan, who was still watching the soccer game. He crossed his little arms over his chest and glared at the screen.

My shoulders wilted at his blatant display of disinterest in me. Anger and jealousy boiled inside my stomach for a second when I remembered that he and I used to sit and watch cartoons together. When did he become interested in soccer? That was Zackary's thing.