Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Callum
Eighty-Four Years Old
“Gramps,” my granddaughter, Sophia, proudly grins from the hospital bed, holding her firstborn to her chest. “Would you like to hold the baby?”
“I would love to,” I smile.
Sophia’s husband gently takes the baby boy from her arms and walks him over to where I’m sitting.
My arms and hands tremble as I reach for the baby. These days, they shake a lot more than they used to.
“Gramps, are you okay?” Sophia asks, concern lacing her tone. “Are you sure you’re up to holding him right now? If you’re feeling weak, we can bring him by your house when we get home from the hospital.”
I’m beyond blessed to have six wonderful grandchildren. They all know about my battle with MS and stop by to check on me often. They know how I have good days and bad days. And even though I’m not feeling particularly well today, I refuse to miss out on this moment.
“No,” I shake my head. “I’m fine, darling. I’m just a little excited, that’s all.”
“Stand by him,” Sophia quietly instructs her husband in a hushed tone, hoping I don’t hear her. “Just in case.”
My stubborn ass rolls my eyes at her comment. I may be in my eighties, but I’m strong enough to hold a seven-pound baby.
Her husband nods before carefully lowering the boy into my arms.
Even after three kids and six grandchildren, this feeling never gets old. There’s something so profoundly special about holding a new, precious life in your arms. It’s a feeling that I have no words for. It’s indescribable.
He’s all bundled up like a little burrito, snoozing soundly. We all chuckle when he purses his little lips and blows out a sleepy bubble.
“He’s beautiful, Sophia,” I breathe, mesmerized by this little human.
“Isn’t he perfect?” she beams. “You’re a great-grandpa now. Can you believe it?”
“No,” I chuckle. “I can’t. It feels like you were just born yesterday. Now look at you, fully grown with a baby of your own.”
A joyful tear slides down her cheek as she nods.
“I feel so honored that you’re here to meet him, Gramps,” she smiles. “Do you want to know his name?”
“Of course.”
When I lift my head to meet her eyes, I find her face bent with emotion. Her chin quivers as her voice cracks.
“His name is Callum,” she croaks. “Callum Wren. Named after his great grandpa and grandma.”
My heart stops .
Every muscle in my body freezes when I hear Sophia utter his name.
I stare down at the tiny miracle in my arms in bewilderment.
“His name…” I trail off, barely able to string together words, “Is what?”
I need to make sure I heard her right.
“His name is Callum Wren,” she repeats softly. “After you and Grandma Birdie.”
I shake my head and swallow thickly. I’m at a complete loss for words. Unshed tears brim my eyes as I brush my thumb against my great-grandson's rosy cheek.
“Sophia…” I choke out. I taste my salty tears before I feel them wet my wrinkled skin.
“Sophia,” I try again. “This is…” I croak. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”
A pained sob makes its way up from my throat as I think about my wife of fifty-three years. The only woman I ever loved. My one and only.
“She would be so proud, Sophia.”
“She is proud, Gramps,” Sophia assures me. “She’s here with us. I can feel her.”
My brows knit together as I struggle to keep control of my emotions. When I blink, a stream of tears rolls down my cheeks.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I clear my throat. “I don’t… I have no words. I don’t know what else to say but thank you. Thank you for giving me and Grandma such a special gift. This is truly an honor.”
“Thank you , Gramps,” she replies, “for showing me and my parents what true love looks like. I’ve never seen two people more in love than you and Grandma. I know you already know this, but she loved you so much, Gramps. You made her so unbelievably happy.”
My lips quiver as I try not to fall apart. When I finally find the strength to speak, I can only manage a soft whisper.
“Your grandma made me the happiest man in the world,” I rasp. “Even when I put her through hell, she never gave up on me. What I had with Birdie was sacred. We had a bond that couldn't be broken. And you’re right, she’s still with us. Even in death, I still feel her every day.”
Death.
That word in relation to my wife still doesn't feel real.
Eleven months ago, I lost the love of my life.
After a three-year battle with cancer, she passed peacefully in her sleep. Even though her doctor assured me that she didn’t feel a thing when she died, it didn’t make the pain any easier.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was never supposed to outlive my wife.
At first, I didn’t think it was possible to survive on this earth without her. The agony was unbearable. Half of my soul was ripped out of my chest when she took her last breath.
I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve wanted my time to come so I could run home to her. Because the second my heart stops beating, I will be racing to find Birdie Wren and wrap her in my arms.
But the other half of my soul is what’s keeping me here…
Our two daughters who have their mother’s silver eyes and contagious laugh.
Our son who has his mother’s golden hair and selfless personality.
Our grandchildren who adore and celebrate Birdie in the way that she celebrated them.
And now, our great-grandson, who shares a piece of both of us. Not just in his DNA, but in his name .
They are what’s keeping me here. My beautiful family that Birdie and I created together.
I couldn’t be more thankful to have spent fifty-three years on this earth with Birdie Wren as my wife. And when my time comes, I know that we’ll have eternity to look forward to. Another dimension where we’ll never have to say goodbye again.
“Gramps?” Sophia asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
She looks down at her lap nervously before lifting her gaze and meeting my stare.
“If you don’t mind me asking…” she stammers. “How did you and Grandma meet? I think she told me years ago, but I don’t really remember the details.”
A reminiscent smile curves my lips as I think about the words the golden-haired little girl spoke to me on the bus. She told me my hair was messy, and I said her name was silly.
“There’s nothing I would love more,” I reply.
For the next hour, I hold Callum Wren in my arms and tell Sophia the story of my best years.