Chapter 46 What if I Dont Remember?
~Caden~
The drive home from the hospital felt different this time. It was heavier. There was a weight of finality settling in the car all around us. Macy sat in the backseat, her legs curled up as she hugged the door, head resting on the window. She was focused on the scene passing by us in the drive.
"You okay back there, kiddo?" I asked, my voice gravelly. Watching her in the rearview mirror, I could see her lips move, but she didn't turn her head to face me—keeping focused outside.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I'm fine."
Felicity reached back and squeezed Macy's knee. "It's okay to be sad."
"I know. I just wish..." She trailed off, then shook her head. "Never mind."
"What, sweetheart?" I prompted.
"I wish she could stay. It's not fair. I just feel like so much has happened and it's so hard." She broke at this, sobs pouring from her—wracking her body.
Felicity hiccupped with her own sob. I looked over and saw her unclip her seatbelt and crawl through the center console area into the back seat.
That's my wife—my fucking amazing wife. She saw when she was needed and put everything to the side to be there for Macy.
This woman is the kind of woman people dream of finding.
Even the mere thought that I could have lost her sent moments of panic through my system.
I watched Felicity throw herself into the back seat. She put her arm around Macy's shoulders, and when I saw my daughter turn toward my wife, my heart jumped in my chest. This moment when Macy allowed Felicity to engulf her and comfort her told me how much love there was in this car.
Tears flowed. Cries sounded. Hearts broke.
How does one comfort a little girl through something like this? How do you not want to give her the world for just one moment to forget the circumstances that landed us here?
I pulled over at the next safe spot, putting the car in park and turning in my seat to face them both. We weren't going anywhere until Macy was ready.
"I'm so tired of everything being sad," Macy whispered against Felicity's shoulder. "I'm tired of being scared and worried all the time."
"I know, baby," Felicity murmured, stroking Macy's hair. "I know you are."
"She's really dying, isn't she. Like, this is really happening—no changing it."
The directness of the question caught me off guard, but I knew she deserved honesty.
"Yes, sweetheart. She is."
"Soon?"
"I think so."
Macy sniffled; her sobs having subsided. I felt helpless watching her, not knowing what to do to comfort her—to help her through the grief for a mother she'd already lost in so many ways—more than once, but this time she would lose her for good.
"What if I forget her voice?" Macy asked suddenly, her words muffled against Felicity's shoulder. "What if I forget the sound of her voice?"
"Then we'll help you remember," I said. "We have some videos on my phone from when you were little. We can watch them whenever you want—I think I can even save them on a drive or something for you."
"What if I only remember the scary parts? The yelling and the stuff that happened this past summer?" She paused then and quietly, oh so quietly whispered, "and how she looked today?"
Felicity lifted Macy's chin gently. "Sweetheart, what a mom and a daughter have is unique.
That kind of love—it's part of who you are.
The good memories are stronger than the scary ones, even when they don't feel like it.
" Felicity ran her hand over Macy's hair, stroking it to help comfort her.
"You know, I lost my mom many years ago. "
"Mmmhhhmmmm." Macy acknowledged this with a muffled assent.
"Even after all these years, I can still remember her.
I can remember the smell of Sunday sauce that she would cook starting early in the morning.
I can remember her laugh and the way she would answer the phone with a sing-song tone of voice.
I remember her hugs and hunting through bookstore stacks with her to find just the right book to read that week. "
"Really?" Macy asked, pulling back to look Felicity in the eyes, almost like she was checking to make sure Felicity was being honest.
"Really." She assured her. "So don't worry about not remembering her. I can promise you—your heart won't let you forget her. And if there are moments you can't recall right away, your dad and I will help you." Felicity returned Macy's look, providing reassurance that she meant what she said.
My phone rang, the sound jarring in our quiet bubble of grief. I glanced at the caller ID: Brigham and Women's Hospital.
My blood went cold.
"I need to take this," I said quietly, stepping out of the car.
"Mr. Barrett? This is Dr. Patel from The Brigham."
"Yes?"
"I'm calling about Jessica Jensen. Do you have a moment where I can speak with you in private?"
I looked back at the car while standing on the sidewalk. Keeping my wife and daughter in my sights, I responded, "I do." My voice cracked. I knew what this was.
"I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but Jessica passed away about ten minutes ago."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the car door for support.
"What happened?"
"She went into cardiac arrest. She had a DNR, so we couldn't attempt to resuscitate her. The nurses stayed by her side in her last moments. She wasn't alone."
I stared at the ground, trying to process what he was telling me. "She's gone."
"Yes, I'm very sorry for your loss. I know this is difficult news, especially since you were just here visiting."
"Does... do we need to do anything right now?"
"Not immediately. There are arrangements to be made, but those can wait until tomorrow. I wanted to call you personally since I'm sure you will want to tell your daughter yourself."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
After hanging up, I stood by the car for a moment, gathering myself before climbing back in. Felicity took one look at my face and knew.
I glanced meaningfully toward Macy, who was still curled against Felicity's side.
"Let's talk when we get home," Felicity said quietly, understanding immediately.
The rest of the drive passed in relative quiet, with Macy eventually falling asleep against Felicity's shoulder. When we pulled into our driveway, Maliyah came out to meet us, taking one look at our faces and immediately stepping in to help.
"How did it go?" she asked softly.
"We can talk inside," I said. "Can you keep Macy occupied for a few minutes?"
"Of course."
Once Macy was settled in the living room with Lucas and Zoe, watching a movie, Felicity and I pulled Maliyah into the kitchen.
"Jessica passed while we were on our way home," I said without preamble.
Maliyah's eyes widened. "Oh no. Does Macy know?"
"Not yet. We thought we should get her home to a comfortable place before we told her."
"How do we tell her?" Felicity asked. "It happened all of what—twenty minutes after we left Jessica's side?"
"And now she has lost her," Maliyah finished quietly. "Poor baby."
We stood in silence for a moment, all of us processing the weight of what this meant.
When we finally called Macy into the kitchen to talk, she took one look at our faces and knew.
She sat down at the kitchen table and said, "Mom's gone, isn't she?"
The question was so matter-of-fact, so resigned, that it broke my heart all over again.
"Yes, sweetheart. She passed this afternoon."
Macy was quiet for a long moment, staring at her hands folded in her lap.
"Did it hurt?"
"No, baby. She wouldn't have been in any pain and the doctor said her nurse was there with her."
Macy nodded slowly, tears starting to fall again, but quieter this time. "I'm sad, but also... is it okay that I'm a little bit okay?"
"Of course it's okay," Felicity said immediately, moving to put her arm around Macy. "You've been watching her suffer. It's natural to feel relieved that her suffering is over."
"What now?" Macy asked.
We talked briefly about the process for the funeral. Macy decided she wanted to pick out the flowers and wanted to help with the planning. Already I felt the weight of the decisions we will need to make.
Exhausted after talking and crying, we decided to call it a night soon enough.
As we said good night to Macy, she asked if she could fall asleep with the light on and if we would wait until she was completely asleep before turning it off.
We didn't hesitate. As we looked in on her later, curled up in her bed, I thought about how our family had been through so much—from crisis to crisis, and now sealed by loss.
I took a moment to say a quick prayer over my daughter, asking the angels to watch over her tonight. Praying for comfort and a sleep filled with dreams of wonderful things—that she would have peace tonight, without the burdens of pain.