UNFORGETTABLE (Able Series Book 3) (28 page)

My mama takes over with a voice so soft as she tries to mask the pain she feels. “Each day you’re with us is a blessing. Even now, it is a blessing, a
gift
we’ll always treasure, a
miracle
we’ll always remember. Your heart is what shines in this dark place. Thank you for sharing your brightness in a world full of pain. Ti amo amore mio.”

Next, we hear Trish’s small and shaky voice, “You have your father’s spirit and your mother’s heart. You have your mom’s ability to bring us together in spite of the pain and coming out of it much stronger than ever. You help us see past the pain just like your mom.”

Jake’s voice comes soon after, “You’re a fighter, just like everyone in this room. A strength I hope my own kids will have one day. Your momma has always been afraid of the dark. Right now, it may seem that way, but it’s not, because of your heart. This isn’t goodbye, little man. I say, I’ll see you later.”

“This is Uncle Cody; I’m glad I met you. I doubt I’ll ever forget you; it’s not every day you meet the smallest fighter on Earth. You’re just like your father. He takes, fights, and finishes everything in silence.”

Roxy leans and says, “I wish you could see the love in your mom and dad’s eyes. But, I suppose there’s no need because you can feel their love for you. Let their love take you higher, up where forever exists.”

LT is next in line. His lips purse in a thin line. “Outstanding fight, little man. Thank you for showing me the power of fighting in silence. That not everything can be solved using a stern voice or harsh words, but that there’s a time when silence is truly golden.”

Then, Dad’s deep voice awakens my heart. “I see shoulders so small, but a heart so big. I see a body so tiny, but a strength that equals a man. I see you in your mother’s arms, but in reality, you’re standing tall fighting the fight. A few short hours you were given, but you’ve stayed fighting, lasting longer than we thought. I love you, my little Marine.”

Mom’s sweet voice thunders like I’ve never heard before. “Sleep with the angels, my love. Sleep with the angels.”

The voice that started it all gains the strength to speak again, “I’ve never known a happiness such as this or a sadness so great they can be experienced by anyone. I love you so much, my heart wants to burst and cry at the same time. I love the feel of your skin against mine. Your breath fanning my face is a gift I’ll treasure each day. Your warmth fires up something inside me . . . it makes me believe. I love the fight you’ve shown. I love the way your heart has grown. I just love you. Don’t forget me, my baby.”

Tami looks at me asking in silence if I want to hold our son. Even though I’m afraid I’ll never let go, of course, I want to hold my son.

“This feels good. Having you in my arms. I know you can hear me, but I’m hoping you’ll understand everything I want to tell you, right now. I love you more than anything in this world. How I wish I could show you just how much a lot longer . . . way longer than a of couple hours.” I lean toward his ear, whispering words I only want to share with him. “For a split second, I want to be selfish and say, please continue fighting, never give up for us because I don’t want our story to end—at least not like this. It’s okay to be afraid, to be tired, and it’s even okay to just let go, buddy. I say it’s okay, because I feel all those things, Son. I’m afraid to lose you, but my heart is tired for you. I’m willing to let go whenever you’re ready. I love you, Dominic Benjamin Mancini. You’ve renewed my heart and defeated my fears. Stand at the gates of Heaven and wait for me . . . wait for your mama and me.”

I hand him back to Tami, wanting his few moments to be in the arms of his mom where he belongs. I’m thankful for everyone’s words, but I’m equally thankful for their presence. Above all, I’m the proudest I’ve ever been in my life, holding my son. I love hearing words about how my little man has touched them, or what they’ve learned from him. It’s a moment I’ll never forget, and I’m glad I get to share it with him. The son I’ve dreamt of . . . the son I’ve hoped for.

Tami echoes my sentiments as she says, “Did you hear all of that, baby? I’m proud of you. Daddy and I are so proud of what you’ve taught them . . . of what you’ve taught us. Please, do not forget my voice or my touch, take them there with you in Heaven until I hold you again.”

Then a tiny miracle happens, his mouth opens a little wider and his lips move into a smile, so small I smile even through the pain.

The flatline sound of a machine cuts through the sobs and whimpers . . . and then, it’s done.

He’s gone.

Our son is gone.

TAMI

Fourteen days.

A few days for some, but a lifetime for me.

Fourteen days filled with pain, heartache, and. . . .

Misery.

I cry. I sleep. I eat. I cry. I sleep. So it goes around and around, that’s how my life has been the past couple of days. I lost yet another. One that I was able to hold, but was taken. One that I was able to see, but now is hidden.

“I want to see him, again,” I mumble under my breath, afraid someone might hear me.

“I’ll take you, sweetheart.”

I raise my eyes to meet my dad’s. The only one willing to take me to Dominic every single day since we buried him. I wanted Brian to be with me, but he has to work. Besides, he told me he doesn’t have to be in a place to feel our baby because our son will always be with him—in his heart. Maybe I should stop. Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t know what’s good or bad. . . . what’s right or wrong anymore. All I know is I’m in agony each and every day.

“Jack, we can’t do this. It’s not healthy,” my mom’s sad voice awakens me from my pain filled memory of Dominic.

“Tami, it’s okay to miss a day. We’ll go next week, okay?”

I turn to face the window pulling the blanket over my chest, wanting to bury myself and hide. I want to hide from the world . . . to hide from the pain . . . to hide from it all. The only things I can’t truly hide from are memories. I remember the day we buried him—I remember.

“I’ll walk.” My voice filled with void echoes in the car.

“Tami, please. I don’t want to fight over this. You’re not completely healed yet. Why don’t you want to use the wheel chair?”

“Because I’d rather feel the physical pain than the pain of burying our son. I’m not as strong as you. I can’t compartmentalize my feelings. They’re all jumbled up inside of my head.”

Brian is gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, and I focus on that rather than the place where we are. Head stones upon head stones decorate the ground, the air is filled with so much sadness it’s suffocating. Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look, misery and agony seem to follow me. I’m lifeless, unfeeling—void. . . . empty.

As we walk up the little hill where our Dominic will be buried, I start remembering his last few moments with us. Even though it hurts, I play them in my head over and over again. I’m afraid I’ll forget how he feels in my arms. I never thought a pain like this existed. Who creates pain like this? We finally stop, and Brian guides me to sit on a chair directly in front of a small casket holding our son a top a lowering device.

I can feel people around me, and eventually, everyone sits when the pastor starts praying over Dominic’s body. Trish hands me a white rose to put on his coffin before they lower it, but I just can’t. I don’t want to say goodbye—not just yet. Instead, I stand.

Without anyone’s help, I walk toward the box holding my son. My final goodbye . . . I’ll do it my way . . . my choice. I kiss the coffin right above where his head should be, and I let my lips linger for just a few moments just like how his dad kisses me.

Then, I whisper my final goodbye. “I hope you’ll remember me when we meet again. You’re a blessing to me, even for just a few hours. I hope you’ve felt the love I have for you. You’re with the angels now, baby. When I look up above, I hope you’ll see me. I hope I can feel you then.”

Brian’s hand is next to my head as I let my cheek rest on the hard cold coffin. His short goodbye still brought tears to my eyes. Four short words.

“I love you, Son.”

He pulls me back and nods to someone, then our little baby’s casket slowly moves lower until I can’t see it anymore. A life taken too soon, while I feel I’m falling into the same darkness that now surrounds my son.

The voice of my dad talking brings me back to my painful reality. I feel them scuffle away; my dad explaining how I should be allowed to grieve the way I want to. Then a warm hand covers my cheek, waving the coldness that constantly surrounds me. I now stare at the eyes of my savior . . . my husband. How he hasn’t left me, I’ll never know; but he should since I’m nothing but a shell of the woman he married. I’m covered in grief, surrounded by pain, and weighed down by depression; I am almost dead—a living dead.

“Tami, you have to get out of the room. How about we go out with Roxy and Cody, or let’s go house hunting since we decided to move back here. You know we can’t stay with your mom and dad forever. Are you up for it?”

“I want to go to Dominic.”

He moves away from me facing the window. “I was in a limbo of pain when we lost our first, even before then. I’m not gonna ask you how long will it take you to get past it. What I want to know is this . . .” He turns to face me, then asks, “What is it that you need me to do for you?”

“Why are you still with me?” I ask as a single tear slides down my face.

“I’m not leaving you or asking you to leave, so quit thinking about it. You may have let me go to help me figure my shit out, but I’ll never do that to you. That’s not how I function. We’ll do this together. I’m standing right here.”

“Why? Right now, it’s hard to live with me.” The softness of my voice masks the anger that’s brewing deep inside me, not for my husband, but for myself.

He tips my chin to meet his eyes. “You’re only making it hard because you’re not talking. Your heart doesn’t need to learn acceptance as mine did because it comes naturally to you. Your heart knows, T. . . . you just need to tell your heart to move again. I’m not afraid anymore, you know. I’m willing to risk it all again because I know it’s worth it. It’s worth it because of you. . . . and because of you my heart is full of hope. I want you to have that, too, T. I want that so much for you.”

I shrug my shoulders not wanting to speak, to think, to feel. I just want to be numb. Sighing out loud, he stands and walks away, but stops long enough to give me a sliver of strength enough to go take a shower.

After my short but successful attempt of leaving my bed, I jump back in pulling the blanket over my chest and face the window. Once again, assuming the position of a helpless woman. God knows I want so badly to snap out of it, but I can’t. It’s easier to wallow in self-pity than face the reality of my own pain. I know what Brian is saying, I truly do. I just can’t find it in me to—feel anything . . . want something . . . and hope for that one thing I’ve craved the most.

DOMINIC DUNLOP

ONE MONTH LATER—DAY OF THE ACCIDENT

I HATE IT WHEN CLAIRE
picks me up instead of my mommy because she’s always late—always, and when she is, I’m stuck at the principal’s office. Why can’t I have a dad who can help take care of me like most of my friends? Every time I feel this way, my mommy always tells me that the Big Man in Heaven will send me one someday. I wonder when that someday will be.

“Nick, your ride is here,” Mrs. Granger, the office secretary, tells me after she gives me another one of her sad looks.

I grab my backpack, excited to leave so I can play my X-box as soon as I get home. My mom won’t be home until much, much, later since it’s her night time shift at the restaurant. Claire smiles at me wiggling a Mc Donald’s bag. Her form of bribery every time she’s late.

“Good afternoon, kid. Sorry I’m late, but I come bearing good news. Your mommy just texted me, and she’ll be home by the time we get home.”

I do a fist pump and give Claire a high five. It always makes me happy when she comes home early. As soon as Claire parks the car, I run as fast as I can knowing she’ll be there welcoming me home, but she isn’t there. After an hour of playing X-box, she still hasn’t come home. When I hear the doorbell, I run to greet her, but Claire beats me to it. I lean to the side to see past Claire, and a policeman is standing outside the door with another guy wearing a suit.

“Nick?. . . . Nick!’

“I’m right here.”

“Go to your room, Nick. Now.”

I want to turn around, but seeing a policeman in my house makes me want to talk to him. My mommy always tells me policemen are heroes like soldiers and firefighters. Then, I hear the policeman say my mom’s name and hospital, but I don’t know what that means; then I hear Claire crying. Why is she crying? Hurriedly, I run to my room when I hear footsteps coming my way. I don’t want to get into trouble with Mr. Policeman.

“Hi, Dominic. I’m Officer Morales.”

“Hi, Mr. Officer Morales. Call me Nick, please. My mom calls me Nick.”

“How old are you, Nick?”

“Six, sir.”

Mr. Morales tussles my hair then asks, “How are you doing, buddy?”