𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 ᯓ gilmore girls

𝟎𝟎𝟒. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

He's gone forever.

I hate hospitals. I hate death.

Nineteen years ago I had to sit and watch my mother die, and that day still haunts me everyday. I hate that my mother will never know my daughter. I hate that Lucy never got to meet her grandmother.

I hate that Lucy doesn't have her grandparents anymore.

When I leave the hospital, I make a promise to myself that I will not step foot in another one unless Lucy is seriously ill because I don't think I can stand to be in one any longer.

I feel sick to my stomach. My head is pounding. My palms sweat.

I've tried to call Liz— my incompetent sister— for an hour now but she hasn't picked up any of my calls. I understand that she has a son, one who is a couple months older than Lucy, but I haven't heard from Liz in nearly two years and I need her help with everything.

I need to plan a funeral. I need to sell the house. Or move into it. No, I can't do that. Lucy loves the apartment, but she also loves the house. God, I don't know what to do. I need to see my daughter desperately.

I need to hold her more than she knows.

It's her fifth birthday in six days, something we had been looking forward to, especially since she would be inviting her entire class, but now I'm not exactly in a party mood and I have a funeral to plan and a little girl's heart to break. This news will break her heart which will only cause me more pain.

I hate this. I really, really hate this.

I stand outside the door to the house for about five minutes before I decide to push the door open.

The house is perfectly clean. It's the way Dad always left it. Always clean. Always spotless. My eyes sting from holding back my tears because I don't want to cry in front of my kid, not until I've told her what's happened.

Patty sees me first, and she knows something has happened but she doesn't say anything.

Next, Adelaide or Addy as she goes by looks to me with a bright smile on her face. Addy and Lucy have been best friends for about a month and they're certainly a duo. Addy is one crazy kid, always striving for attention with her wide smiles and giant green eyes. She's always laughing and tormenting me whenever she stops by the apartment. She contrasts my quiet, kind daughter who is shy in class but loud whenever she's with Addy. I'm grateful that Addy can bring an excitable side out of her.

But there's no joy in my daughter's eyes when she turns to look at me.

"Daddy." She doesn't even sound excited to see me, probably because she knows I've just come from the hospital.

She rushes over to me, her feet sliding across the floor as she reaches me at the door, her arms outstretched as she throws herself at me. To say she's tiny and four, she's one strong kid.

I reach down, scooping her off the floor and bringing her close. She wraps her arms around my neck, her head buried in my shoulder.

When I breathe out in relief, I shiver because I didn't realise how badly I needed to hold her. My eyes sting, my throat closes up, and I know I'm about to break down in my daughter's arms, and Patty can clearly see that as she moves off the sofa with Addy's hand in hers.

She steps to me, a hand on my shoulder. A tear rolls down my cheek as I look to Patty and nod.

I don't let go of Lucy as Patty and Addy leave. I know I should let her say goodbye to her best friend but I refuse to let go right now.