I thought I had everything in my world finally in neat little boxes, and, in one day, everything changed. Now, here we are again, almost a year later, waiting for news in a hospital. My phone dings and I smile, seeing a picture Gabby sent of her and Hannah eating dinner. Spaghetti it is, and Hannah is covered in red sauce. Another message dings through and I open it, remembering to silence my phone before I go on.

Gabby: Bath night tonight. Sorry

I shoot her a quick text back, smiling as I type.

Benton: Looks fun, wish I was there. Will call once we hear something.

All I get back is a symbol for a response, but it still warms my heart.

Gabby: <3

Her message reminds me that I have people waiting for me at home. I have a life that I can live because I was spared from being in the car with Carly that night, because I had people that would need me. My mom is going to be okay, because she has people that need her. She needs to live for us, and for herself. She’s young. She’s healthy. There’s no way she … I can’t even think it!

This can’t be happening again. There’s no way God would put me through something like this again. This can’t happen… it isn’t happening.

“Mr. James…” my father and I hear as the door opens. As we turn, we see a man in blue scrubs walk into the room. Dreary.

“Yes. That’s me. This… uh… this is my son, Benton. Benton James,” my father stammers nervously as he shakes the doctor’s hand. I follow suit, and the doctor smiles sadly.

I remember smiles like that.

“Mr. James,” he addresses my father. “I have some unfortunate news for you.”

Those words. Unfortunate news.

Unfortunate news would be a rained out ball game. Unfortunate news would be missing the train to work and being late. What’s about to come out of his mouth isn’t unfortunate news. It’s news that’s going to devastate an entire family.

I can just feel it.

“You wife is no longer with us, Mr. James,” he says empathetically. Like he’s gone through this shock before.

Shock doesn’t even register at this point. It feels like I’ve been hit with a ninety-pound barbell right in the middle of my chest. Silently sobbing next to me, my father can’t form any coherent sentences and it’s up to me to step up, but I’m having a hard time finding my breath.

“She’s gone?” I manage, fighting back tears that threaten. “Oh, God,” I whisper, slumping in my chair, feeling like I’m going to vomit. “Oh, fuck.” Moaning, I lean forward and hang my head between my knees, trying to find something… some sort of level feeling when my entire being wants to give up.

This can’t be happening.

“Mr. James, both of you, I’m so sorry for your loss. Your wife had an aortic aneurysm. It had started to burst when she got here, which is what must have caused her to fall and hit her head. Blood flow had slowed, causing her to faint. By the time we got in, and saw what we were dealing with… it was too late. She was already gone.” He purses his lips together sadly and watches us, hands clasped in front of him. Like watching an angry bear ready to attack.

I feel numb. I can’t cry, though I feel the knot welling up. I can’t get mad because I need to be here for my dad. I can’t speak, because everything that comes out is going to be anger at the man that didn’t save my mother.

“If it’s any consolation, she wasn’t in pain when she left us,” he says, standing and clearing his throat. “If you would like to say goodbye, we have her cleaned up for you. We like to give the family the option, but it’s completely up to you.”

My dad’s gaze watches him with puffy eyes, like he does not comprehend what the doctor is saying to him.

“Dad,” I whisper. “We need to tell her goodbye.”

Fuck this hurts.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shakes his head from side to side, then looks over at me, and bursts into tears again. I know his hurt. I felt the same pain when I lost Carly last year. He lost his life partner. His forever love.

“Come on, Dad,” I say, helping him stand up. Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this right now. I shouldn’t have to tell my mother goodbye. I shouldn’t be walking back through the gates of hell again. This can’t be real. It has to be a joke.

But it’s not.

As the door to the room they are keeping her in opens, I smell it first.

Death.

The gray skin on my mother’s face doesn’t match her usual colorful life filled cheeks. Her hands, limp at the table, will never hold my baby girl again. Oh God, Hannah. Pain sears through my body at the thought of having to explain to my girl that grandma won’t be able to watch her anymore. That she won’t be here for her anymore.

Fuck me.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the doctor whispers, clicking the door closed behind him.

I glance over at my father and he’s just standing there, holding my mom’s lifeless hand. She’s clean. There’s no more blood from the fall, no signs of any trauma. I’ve heard people say their loved ones finally look at peace when they die, but peace on my mother doesn’t look like this. It looks like her holding Hannah, rocking her to sleep, dancing with my father in the kitchen. It looks like everything we’ll never have again.

“Dad,” I choke out, wiping the tear from my face. “Dad,” I manage again, going to his side. “Oh God, mom,” I cry, falling to my knees, my dad sliding down with me.

The hurt I feel is nothing compared to his, but I still feel it. I still feel the pain, the tears, and everything. The thought of Hannah not knowing how much her grandma loved her makes the hurt and anger swirl inside me, until I feel like I could take out every doctor that didn’t save my mother, every doctor in this fucking hospital that failed us.

“Benton,” my dad whispers. “She loved you, son. More than anything. I hope you know that,” he manages. It’s the most words he’s spoken since he heard the news.

Then, it clicks. The pain I’m feeling is because of Hannah and how she’s going to react to it. I’m more worried about my child at this point, and her growing up without a grandma. My dad, the man holding on to me for dear life, is hurting for me. He’s hurting because he’s alone now, and he knows how close my mom and I were. He’s hurting every single hurt I could possibly hurt times ten.

When the doctor comes back into the room, we’ve composed ourselves enough and say our final goodbyes to my mom. Well, to her body. She’s not in there anymore.

Walking out of the hospital, shock settling in that my dad has to go home alone tonight. Every night. I know that feeling, and it’s not a fun one. Not at all.

“Hey, you need me to come with you tonight?” I ask, remembering that he has to go home and clean her blood off the floor still. Shit.

“No.” He stops next to the doors of the hospital. “I need to go home and clean up.” He mutters something about the blood, and my heart sinks a little more for him. He shouldn’t have to go back by himself and do this all alone, but he’s so stubborn that I know he’s not going to let me come along.

I grab a cab, not wanting to make my dad drive around any more than he needs to tonight, and call Gabby three times on the drive home. Missing every call, I try to tell myself that they are just sleeping, but with all the bad that happened tonight, I just need to know everyone else is okay.

By the time we pull in front of my building, I’ve already paid and am out of the cab and inside the building in no time. Waiting for the elevator, I check my messages and notice nothing new has come through since the heart from Gabby. Christ, I hope everything is okay.

When the doors open, my heart sinks even more when I notice the couple walking out of the elevator.

“Adam?” I blurt.

When Annaliese’s eyes hit mine, I know something’s not right.