The Dance

Goodbye, my love

February, 2036

Prince and Emma lay entwined in bed, as they had almost every night since they met. Emma was determined not to cry this night, or any of the few nights she thought they had left. Prince drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he drifted in, she would feel his arms tighten, just a little. She clung to those moments, even as she clung to his words: 'I love my wife. I love you, Emma.' She always responded with: 'I love my husband. I love you, Prince.'

There were other endearments, and small conversations. Sometimes he would ask about the girls or the grandchildren, or tell her something to tell someone. They had been in a cocoon for several weeks, Prince's medical needs taken care of by wonderfully caring hospice nurses. Emma did everything else. Any physical or emotional need he had, no matter how small, was her loving gift to him.

As the weeks had passed, there was less for her to do. He, who always ate little, had eaten nothing since the last bite of his favorite cake a week ago. He had refused to drink anything since early that morning, no water, not even the heavily sweetened tea he favored, though he had been down to small sips and swallows the past few days.

Family members and close friends had visited during the past weeks, until this week, when Prince asked for only Emma. No one else, please. He felt he had the right to be selfish, to have to only expend the little energy he had left loving his Emma. Looking at the teal and gold eyes that had ensnared him over 20 years ago. Holding the body that was his perfect fit, his home, his haven.

Emma knew from the experience of caring for her dying parents that it took a long time for a body to die. She also knew there would come a day when she would be holding a body that wouldn't be holding her in return. Prince knew this, too, and every time he drifted back in, he was intentional about his words and actions.

They would reminisce together about the milestones they shared, trips, performances, philanthropy, and family times.

Young men nervously asking Prince for Mya and Marti's hands in marriage. Him trying not to laugh at their obvious intimidation, while wanting to make sure they weren't playing what he now thought of as his girls.

Walking each beautiful young woman down the aisle at her wedding, getting to say those special words-Her mother and I. Kissing each one on the cheek as he raised their wedding veil. Placing their hand in the hand of the man he hoped would love them as much as he loved Emma.

Making loving, embarrassing, humorous toasts about each bride at her wedding reception, sharing through his words how precious each of them had become to him.

Holding each grandchild, Marti's son Roger Gene, and Mya's son Nelson Gene, the day of their birth.

So many things Prince had resigned himself to never experiencing, and God had provided them all through His gift of Emma and their love for each other. As they reminisced, it pushed away awareness of the journey they were now on. It was a bittersweet journey, one only Prince would complete. Each of them was very cognizant of the fact that Emma would be left behind.

As the night wore on, Prince could feel his soul beginning to leave his body. He was fighting to stay, but knew he could only put it off so long. Having to leave her was breaking his heart, but he could feel his body slowly shutting down.

He could hear the familiar music again, at first faintly, then more strongly. Suddenly he realized he was breathing it for the third time in his life. He thought briefly about what a gift those other two times had been, and was thankful he had saved the sounds, however imperfectly, and given them to Emma all those years ago. She would know the last sounds he heard as he transitioned from earth to the presence of God.

The music was even louder, insistently calling him. Music always came first. He gave her as much of a final kiss as he was able, and headed for the light. He knew God would keep her safe until the time came for her to join him.

Emma felt Prince give her a slight kiss on her forehead, and then his arms slackened in a way they hadn't before. She knew. It was as if Emma's entire being stopped at that moment. She couldn't move from the bed where she was still entwined, staring up at Prince's still, peaceful face, silently willing him to get up and laugh at her as he sometimes would when playing a prank.

An ancient Paisley, who had been moved to the house when Paisley Park became too big for her five years prior, hopped onto the bed, sniffed Prince's hand, and nudged it with her head, her usual habit. When his hand didn't move, she didn't walk away or over to Emma as she normally did. She sat down next to his head and gave the most mournful cry Emma had ever heard. Emma pulled her close and gently petted the beautiful calico fur of the cat Prince had chosen for them that first Christmas together. Paisley didn't squirm away, and Emma kept petting her, wetting that fur with tears she didn't realize she was crying.

Finally, she got up and walked out to Kirk. 'He's gone,' was all she said. His tears began, and he walked in to say goodbye to the body of his best friend. He and Prince had said their goodbyes face to face the week prior.

As he came out, he said, 'I'll call the funeral home. Go be with your boy.'

Emma went back in and lay down again with her husband's body, covering them both with the afghan she had crocheted for him for Christmas that year. Prince realized just after their 22nd wedding anniversary that the cancer was back, and fought hard with the improved treatments doctors offered, but to no avail. Emma didn't want his final years to be miserable ones. They both felt they'd been given more than they asked for in terms of time together after the miracle of the bone marrow transplant. Emma snuggled next to her husband one last time, using her warmth to keep them both warm while she imagined he was just asleep again.

Kirk knocked on the door and said, 'Emma, they're here.' Emma knew she had to face reality.

She stood up from the bed, and as she put Paisley on the ground she took a deep, shuddering breath. She realized God had seen fit to take another husband from her. She thanked Him for two loving husbands, and one love whose heart had truly enmeshed with hers. She knew she wouldn't look for another.

The funeral directors came, and respectfully loaded his lifeless body on a gurney. Kirk suggested they drive the hearse to the back driveway to load Prince into it, giving them all a little privacy. Tabloid photographers had been outside the gate of their home with telephoto lenses for weeks, hoping for the money shot indicating the death of one of the most respected musicians, philanthropists, and advocates for social justice in the world.

Emma asked to hold her husband's hand as they rolled him away, and to please not cover his face while she was present. They agreed, and Emma, followed by Paisley, walked beside her husband's body, holding his hand, through the home where he had spent so much time with the wife he loved, out to the waiting hearse. Just before they loaded him into the hearse, Emma removed his wedding ring from his cold finger, and put it on her hand in front of her wedding rings. She took the necklace he always wore off of him, putting it around her neck, kissing the cross that lay at the end of the chain beside the symbol he had adopted so many years before. She turned away, not wanting to see his face covered or his body loaded into that vehicle, and stood silently, listening for the sound of the car engine pulling away.

After the hearse left, Emma and Paisley walked slowly back through the warm, personally chosen decor of Prince and Emma's haven, the clicking of Paisley's claws the only sound Emma could hear. She continued to his office, and sat down at his desk in front of the computer. Paisley curled up in the cat bed on top of the filing cabinet next to the desk, a spot she had claimed for years. Emma tapped the spacebar a few times to wake up the computer, and just as he had explained years before, and reminded her of earlier that day, there on the desktop was a large icon of a folder with her name on it in the capital letters Prince favored. She opened the folder, and the top document listed was titled 'Read me first'.

A/N-It isn't happy, but it is beautiful. Thanks for reading!