“It means I’m not supposed to bring the dead back to life.”
I paused my fidgeting, letting my hands slide down my face. “You know this for a fact?”
“It’s what I’ve been told. And it’s been my experience.”
“Told by whom? And what experience?”
“Look!” Franz ran out of his room, holding up two colorings. “Shh …” I held my finger to my mouth, but it was too late. Anya’s fussy cries filled the air.
“Let me see those, big guy.” Ronin held out his hand.
I stood, backing up a slow step at a time, focusing on everything about my husband—his forced smile, his strained voice, his pale face, and his drowsy eyes. Before I could say another word or make eye contact with him, Anya let out a louder cry. After that, everything fell into an unstoppable chain of events.
Anya.
Poopy diaper.
Franz needing a snack.
Graham calling to give us an update.
My parents arriving.
Ronin’s parents arriving.
He left me with a mind-blowing confession, a revelation too unreal to sort out and make sense of it. I had so many questions, but life took center stage, allowing us no time for more answers.
On autopilot, I tossed together ingredients for a pot of chili, threw in a load of laundry, and absentmindedly nodded when someone spoke to me. Yes, I knew Lila was doing better, but at the same time, she was in more pain because they were weaning her off the stronger pain medications. Everything my mom and dad shared from hours earlier at the hospital, I already knew because Graham texted me several times an hour.
I watched Ronin, slumped into the corner of the sofa, pretending to engage with the kids while my dad rubbed his hands together over the wood stove, sharing his thoughts on the Denver Nuggets with … I wasn’t sure. Victor had drifted off to sleep in one of the recliners, probably not a fan of the Nuggets or basketball in general. Sometimes Ronin and I would make eye contact. He knew I saw his pain. I knew he saw all the unanswered questions running rampant in my head.
“Would you like me to get Franz ready for bed?” Ling asked as I put away the last dinner dish and tossed the towel on the countertop.
It took me a few seconds to respond. Everything felt heavy: my limbs, my eyelids, and my thoughts—sluggish and unfocused. I needed sleep. But yes, my kids needed to get to sleep as well.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“Franz, show me your favorite jammies,” Ling said with Franz’s level of enthusiasm.
Before he could scramble to his feet to follow Ling, Anya cried from her bedroom.
I flinched, my gaze darting to Ronin. My mom had taken Anya to her room to rock her to sleep.
“She’s teething. I should give her something.” I yawned.
Before Ronin could return a full nod, his gaze redirected toward the hallway, eyes widening as he pushed himself off the sofa. My gaze followed him … as if in slow motion. At least, that was how I always remembered that moment.
Anya, stumbled down the hallway with her already unsteady toddler gait, a trail of blood from her head to her jaw. My mom … nowhere in sight.
“Anya!” I rushed to her right behind Ronin.
He picked her up as if nothing in his body felt pain at that moment—the power of adrenaline. Then he inspected the cut on her head as she reached for me. I didn’t think it was possible to stretch anymore, but I felt the painful pull once again from the people that I loved.
“Take her. Call 9-1-1.” Ronin handed Anya to me. I knew the call wasn’t for our daughter.
As soon as I turned to go find my phone, my dad rushed past me.
He knew too.
“I’m calling.” Victor pulled his phone from his pocket.
Ling hurried toward me with a wad of tissues, pressing them to Anya’s cut while I used my shirt to wipe the blood from her cheek.
Stretch.
Tug.
Pull.
I felt the cracks as Franz hugged my leg.
“Mommy! Anya bleeding!”
I couldn’t let go of my little girl, but something happened to my mom, and I had no idea what it was. With my babies clinging to me, I couldn’t go back to the room to find out.
Ling gestured to the wad of tissues on Anya’s head. “Hold this here. I’ll go see.”
Fear strangled me, even a simple “okay” couldn’t make it out of my mouth. I nodded, holding the tissue to Anya’s head as I tried really hard to not let out the tears pooling in my eyes. Dread snatched my ability to think coherently. Heart palpations stole my breath, making it hard to find enough oxygen. But I had to find that next breath. I knew at some point I would no longer have to be strong for anyone else, and I would crumble into a cloud of despair. Until then … I moved like a wave, miles off the shore, waiting for my turn to crash … break … and disappear.
My grandma told me God never gave us more than we could handle. Either she was wrong, or I was right—God didn’t exist.
Closing my eyes, I let everything slow down until all I could feel were my children’s arms—Franz around my leg, Anya around my neck. What if they were the only ones I could keep with me? Could I lose my mom, my best friend, and my husband and still be okay? Could I be the wave that changed courses in the storm, carrying them with me to avoid crashing … breaking … disappearing?
Yes.
I knew it the moment I held Franz in my arms. My love would always be strong enough to last my whole life. If my heart had a beat, I would be there for Franz and Anya. I never wanted it to beat alone. I’d always imagined it beating with Ronin’s heart, a union as beautiful as the one that brought our children into the world.
“I love you.” I found my voice as I kissed the skin beside Anya’s head. She hiccupped with a few more sobs.
“I love you both so much.” I squatted down, dropping to my backside and bringing Franz into my embrace too. “And we will be okay.”
My internal reconciliation had nothing to do with me giving up on my mom, on Lila, on Ronin … It was me building a shelter in my heart for my children—one that would weather every storm.
“She had a seizure.” Ling rested her hand on my shoulder.
My body gently swayed side to side with my world wrapped in my arms.
A seizure.
Knowing we would be okay no matter what, I was able to file that information into the right place in my mind.
My mom had cancer.
My mom was dying.
My mom was going to experience seizures, dizziness, vomiting, headaches, numbness, and possibly paralysis in parts of her body.
A seizure.
She would be fine … for the time being.
One moment. One breath.
I couldn’t undo the past. Nor could I change the future.
My babies are okay. We are okay.
Victor moved from watching out the window to opening the door for the paramedics.
Two of them ushered past me down the hallway following Ling. A third one, a fair skinned woman with a soft smile, squatted next to me while slipping on her blue gloves.
“I’m Janette. Can I take a look?” she asked.
I eased the wad of tissue away from Anya’s head.
She covered it with a gauze square. “We’ll make this all better, sweetie.”
“Grandma!” Franz jumped out of my lap and tried to run after the two medics taking my mom out to the ambulance.