Words on a death bed

I pull into my driveway, tears silently keeping their tracks fresh down my cheeks.

I put the car in park, realizing I don't remember the drive home.

I turn the car off but I can't move.

My mind, unable to process what has just happened or what the future without him will look like, reverts to memories.

*Flashback 1 week* "Sara, we're at the hospital. You need to come now, he doesn't have much time."

I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to stop both the memory and my tears.

I bang my fists on the steering wheel and scream like a toddler throwing a tantrum. As the screams turn to sobs, I feel the toll the last week has taken on me. I'm so tired.

*Flashback 3 hours* "Sara, it's 4:30 in the morning. Why don't you go get some sleep? I'll sit with him." I stumble up the stairs and drop like a rock into a bed that isn't mine. I close my eyes for what felt like seconds when the door opens. "Sara, you need to come downstairs" I open my eyes and look at the clock, 5:06. I know he's gone.

As I step out of the car I take notice of the way the ice cold December air stings my skin. I've lived here all my life and I'm used to the chilly winters of eastern Canada but today feels so much colder.

*Flashback 1 week* "I hope you're somewhere praying, praying" the lyrics of this song seem all too fitting as I race to the hospital, snow falling violently all around me as I plead to a higher power not to take him before I get there. "Please let me say goodbye, I need to say goodbye" I say out loud, wiping the tears from my eyes. It's hard enough driving at night in a snowstorm without them impeding my vision.

I shake my head in an attempt to rid the memory from my mind. There's too much to do, I can't think of that right now. I need to get a haircut.

"Sara, I'm sorry to hear about Dean, he was a great man" my hairdresser says empathetically as I sit down in her chair, "What can I do for you today?". "I'd like it cut to about here" I respond, gesturing to a little above my shoulders.

He never failed to notice when I'd change my hair. Even a small trim to my wild curls would get me a compliment the second I walked in the door. He had told me on countless occasions that he thought I'd look nice with shorter hair. I should have cut it while he was still here.

*Flashback 1 week* I stomp my feet on the carpet as I walk into the hospital, trying to break free from the snow that has covered my boots. The hospital is quiet, as if it was open only for us. I walk past the waiting room, through big automatic doors and into the emergency department. Room 356. The door is open but on the bed is an older man I don't recognize, surrounded by people I've never met. I turn around to the nurses station. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Dean Roy's room" I tell no one in particular. One of the nurses stands up, "Right this way"

I have to stop thinking about this, I can't break down right now. There's too much to do. I need to go shopping.

"Can I put those in a dressing room for you?" asks the woman working, holding her hands out for the mountain of clothes in my arms. "Umm, actually I think I'll start trying them on now". I follow her to the dressing rooms and thank her before she leaves.

He always looked put together. Not in a suit and tie kind of way, but in nice casual clothes. He didn't really care what other people wore as long as you didn't go out in public in your pajamas. But I wanted to look nice for him, he deserved me at my best for this.

*Flashback 1 week* "There's no empty rooms at the moment so we had to put him in here" the nurse says as she leads me back to room 356. As I enter, I notice a curtain dividing the room. She pulls back the curtain and Tess is standing beside his bed. I'm thankful he wasn't alone but more thankful that she leaves to give us privacy. I stand beside the bed and take note of how young he still looks, despite the years of cancer and chemo. He reaches out and as I take his hand, we both break down into tears. He came into my life 16 years ago and this is only the second time I've seen him cry. I study his face, trying my hardest to commit it to memory but I know time is running out and I have things I need to say.

Stop it! I think to myself. I have things to do. It's time to see the priest.

"As you know, I will be giving the eulogy so I'd like for you all to tell me about Dean. What was he like? What did he mean to you as a brother, as a friend, as a coworker, as a husband, as a step father?"

*Flashback 15 years* It's bedtime and I need to say goodnight. It's only Dean and I awake now. He's sitting at the computer, barely aware of the world around him as I shuffle my feet and play with my hands, trying to gather up the courage to say it. I've wanted to say it for a long time now, he's been so good to me and made me feel so loved. I know it will make him happy because he's made his feelings very clear. But I've never said it to anyone before. Maybe another day I tell myself. I walk over to give him and hug and kiss on the cheek goodnight and I surprise myself when I hear the words come out of my mouth. "Goodnight, I love you… Dad" my face is red hot. He turns from the computer with a look of shock on his face. Maybe he doesn't want me to call him… "I love you too daughter, sweetie, I love you too so much" he stumbles over the words and I can tell that he's trying his hardest to reciprocate. He pulls me in for another hug, squeezing extra tight this time.

"I don't want you to call him our step dad" I say quickly back to the priest. "He was our dad, the only dad we've ever had and the best dad we could have asked for. He earned that title."

*Flashback 1 week* "Dad I'm sorry for everything I put you through when I was a teenager. I'm sorry for every mean thing I've ever said to you. When you married Mom you made us a family and our lives have been better because of you. Thank you for bringing so much laughter into our lives. Thank you for always being there for me, thank you for always showing up and thank you for never letting me doubt for a second that you loved me and I was your daughter. Thank you for loving mom and showing us what a happy marriage looks like. Thank you for being the best dad and grampy anyone could ever ask for. I love you so much and I don't want you to go…"

I play it over and over now, through the wake, through the funeral. It was his last lucid conversation and as thankful as I am to have been able to tell him how I feel, he was too sick to say much more than he loved me too. But I knew, even if he wasn't able to tell me on his deathbed, I knew what he would have said. Still, I can't help wishing I had it as a memory that I could play over in my head when the pain of losing him is more than I can handle.

"Now there's just one more thing. To his three children, he also leaves behind $20,000 each and these" the lawyer says, holding out three small black notebooks. I hold the small black notebook in my hands and imagine all the things that could be inside. I let the tears fall freely as I open it and see his handwriting.

To my daughter Sara, I know I don't have a lot of time left so I'm leaving you this small black notebook so that no matter what happens, you'll know how much you meant to me. I have so many things I want to say to you and it's hard to know where to start so I suppose I'll jump right in. Thank you for keeping me on my toes. Thank you for being the last of my kids to let me in, thank you for being the first of my kids to call me dad. Thank you for….