Westley has always known Claire. She's always been a constant in his life, whether it be as his babysitter, his secret Santa, as his pretend-girlfriend, his confident, as the person he could always rely on.
But she's also always been the girl he lov...
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I'm seventy two and I'm dying. The cancer came back. It's metastasized everywhere. The doctors tell me I shouldn't start reading a book because I might not have enough time left to finish it.
The kids are always crying. The grandkids don't really know what they're supposed to do. I'm so sad I won't get to see them all grown up. I'm sad to be leaving them so soon. But I'm also so grateful for the amazing life I had. I wouldn't trade any second of it.
I'm not scared of dying. I am a little worried about the idea that soon I'll close my eyes and never open them again and everything I thought, all of my memories and the way I process this whole human experience will be gone. It's a little unsettling. Still, I never felt the need to follow a faith to be able to process that idea of nothingness.
The only thing I ever needed to believe in was in Claire.
Claire is almost never leaving my side. She practically drags me to the bathroom with her. I'm okay with that. I don't plan on missing one second more with her.
We try not to cry too often, but we fail most of the time.
They let me go back home. I don't want to die in a hospital. The kids are staying home too, to help their mom taking care of me.
I lost a lot of weight, so I'm not that difficult to drag around.
One evening Claire and the kids helps me get to the swing on our back porch overlooking the lake behind our house while the sun sets.
It took a lot of my energy to get there. I feel completely empty. I feel like this is going to be it soon.
The four of us stay on the swing while the sky turns dark blue, reminiscing about the kids when they were younger and about our favourite memories. Claire isn't letting go of me. The kids leave us be after a little while.
"I told you you would outlive me," I remind her gently.
"Shut up."
"Living without you was never appealing to me."
"You think it's any more appealing to me?"
It's getting harder to talk. Too hard. "I think you can go on without me, but I was never meant for a life without you," I tell her softly.
"I love you my Westley."
My oldest memory is of Claire, of being three and hurt and in her arms. All my years have been Claire years.
Just like my first memory, Claire is holding me in her arms, comforting me. I love you my Claire, I think and close my eyes for the last time.
