"Special delivery," Ella stated with a sad smile. She handed me two cups of ice cream and a paper bag with two cones in them. She waved at Andrew and then left us alone.
"You didn't," Andrew stated. But there was a sparkle in his eye.
"I did promise you ice cream," I informed him.
"It's not your cheat day," he pointed out. I shrugged. "You're spoiling me. Or, you're worried I won't last until your next cheat day," he continued. I sucked in a sharp breath, and I hoped he didn't hear it. But, to my dismay he did. "Come on," he stated, patting his bed again. We both knew what was going on, what we both thought and felt, and decided it'd be best to just have some sugar therapy for the moment.
I gently sat on his bed and carefully removed the lid of his ice cream, stuck a cone on top, and offered it to him with a plastic spoon. The shake in his hands, however, didn't escape me as he tried to casually take the cup from me. I held it back and he looked bewildered for a moment. "Are you really going to tease me with this?" he whined. But I knew that was his joking whine.
"Let me feed you," I requested. He was about to protest when I said, "If you're feeling stronger after a few bites, I'll let you feed yourself. I just don't want you getting ice cream all over the bed," I obviously lied. He gave me that knowing smile and simply brought his face closer, waiting to be fed. I took a small spoon of that delectably cold treat and put it in his mouth. Andrew smiled, then brought his face to the cup and licked a larger amount of ice cream into his mouth.
"Come on," he stated after I gave him an amused, but disappointed, smile. "That was an infant sized spoonful. I'm sick, not miniature." I nodded in understanding and decided, in an effort to tease him, I'd give him an enormous spoonful the second time. He laughed at my action and gladly took the much larger portion, a small drop starting to drip down his perfect face after he had devoured almost the entire spoonful. I started to wipe it away from the corner of his mouth with my thumb when he stopped me and held my hand, then softly sucked the ice cream from my thumb. I trembled internally, relishing the moment of pure vulnerability between us. He then placed my hand on his face and held it firmly in place as he closed his eyes and seemed to be breathing in my scent. He definitely wasn't shaking at that moment. "You're sweeter than the ice cream," he mumbled.
"Hey, that's what I should be saying to you," I sadly whispered. But I couldn't help but smile. Andrew smiled back, then eyed the dessert once more. I smiled, scooped a more appropriate-sized portion, and resumed feeding him. After taking some more spoonfuls, he took the ice cream from me. I was about to protest when he nodded at the other cup sitting next to me that I completely forgot about.
"It's going to be soup soon. And look, I'm fine feeding myself. I want to watch you eating now," he insisted. I gave in, because I wanted to give him everything he wanted while I still could. I was even happier seeing that Ella got me coffee-flavored ice cream. My favorite always changed, and lately it had been coffee. She really deserved more than she was being given. So did Andrew.
And when that last thought ran through my head, I lost my appetite. But I couldn't disappoint Andrew, so I scooped what I hoped didn't look like a minute spoonful and consumed it, letting it slowly melt in my mouth, then trickle down the back of my throat and soothe the ball that was starting to form. It really was the perfect treatment for sadness.
"Are you OK?" Andrew asked, taking another spoonful right after his question.
"I'm as OK as I can be, my love," I admitted. Andrew sighed at my response. "I want to enjoy this moment with you," I truthfully stated. "And the ice cream does help with feeling better," I tried to assure him.
"Can you do me a favor?" Andrew asked. I nodded. Anything for him. "Call me by my nickname. I like hearing you say it," he bashfully requested. It was so endearing and so simple.
"Which one?" I teased. "Drew? Drewzy? Sexy Beast?" I threw in. Andrew snorted into his ice cream and started coughing. The worry only registered in my heart for a moment before he quickly regained his composure.
"Thanks," he breathed. "Drew's good," he responded, even though we both knew I didn't need the clarification.
"I kind of like Sexy Beast though," I responded, not sure where this cheekiness was coming from. Andrew laughed again. He set down his ice cream, placed one hand on my thigh, then leaned in and softly kissed my lips. There was assurance in this kiss. There was no hint of hesitation or weakness in the loving gesture. It took me a moment to regain enough composure to lightly place one hand on the side of his neck, not wanting to be too forceful because I knew he wouldn't tell me if I was hurting him.
"Mm," he stated once we leaned back from each other. He took my hand in his, then kissed the back of it. "I'd have to say, hospital room aside, this is one of the best dates we've been on." I looked for the sarcasm or the joke in his expression, but there was none to be found. The confusion must have been evident on my face because he continued, "We're being completely and fully open with each other. I see you. The real you. And I know you want to do everything you can for me. To feel so loved, so treasured, so wanted... you're the best," he breathed.
"I'm not sure about being the best, but you definitely make me want to be better. I need to keep up with you," I responded in all honesty. Andrew kissed my hand again, and I lightly stroked his cheek. After another moment, I nodded at his ice cream. "You don't want it turning to soup now, do you? I'm not sure I can convince Ella to make a second run." Andrew chuckled once more, and we both resumed eating our ice cream, stealing furtive glances at each other as if we were on our first date. It made me giddy and, for a while, I forgot where we were.
We finished our ice cream, and I made sure everything was properly and thoroughly cleaned up. I wasn't going to give any bugs, germs, or any other little creature a free meal and invitation to get anywhere near Andrew. After cleaning up, I simply sat next to his bed again. I started humming as I cleaned up, and once I was finished and sitting next to Andrew, he asked, "Can you sing something for me?" I smiled. I loved singing for him.
"Any particular request?" I inquired. I wished I had my guitar to play for him as well.
"Whatever it is you were humming," he indicated. I smiled at him and began singing "Safe and Sound", the version by Kurt Hugo Schneider playing in my mind as I sang it for the amazing man in front of me. After I finished singing it, I let a small tear escape. It was Andrew who always made me feel safe and sound. The one who chased away my demons after Ivan. I hoped I did the same for him.
"I want you to listen to this song," Andrew stated, pulling out his phone and looking for a song on his music app. "Love Like This" by Ben Rector. I smiled as I listened to the lyrics. It was such a sweet love song. "I'd sing it for you, but I think the message gets across better when I leave the singing to the professionals," Andrew stated, looking at me guiltily.
"You don't have to sing for me," I pointed out.
"I ask you to do it for me all the time," Andrew retorted.
"Yeah, but I like singing for you. And you do things for me that you love doing all the time. Like singing my praises, and making me feel like the most wonderful person to ever exist, even though we both know that's not true," I reminded him.
"But you are the most wonderful person to ever exist. At least, the most wonderful to me," Andrew insisted. He was too perfect sometimes. "Come on," he encouraged, making room for me on his bed.
"You really should get your rest, Drew," I stated, using his nickname for his sake. I wasn't sure why he cared so much when I said it. It was the nickname almost everyone else used with him.
"Please?" he gave me his sad puppy-dog eyes. I hated to admit it, but it worked every time.
"Such a dirty tactic," I muttered under my breath as I got up and maneuvered all those machines, wires, and tubes once more. But, I made sure I positioned myself so that he was actually resting his head on my chest. I wanted him to get as much rest as possible, so I had to be sure he wasn't acting as my pillow. He never admitted it, but I noticed the times my heavy head caused his arm to go numb and he would subtly try to move it so that he could get some blood flowing again without bothering me. I just wanted him to relax a bit. And not worry about my comfort. I wanted to spoil him as much as I could.
He let out a satisfied sigh as he closed his eyes and rested his head on my chest. I lightly stroked his head through his short locks. And I stared at the amazing man in my arms. His breathing seemed better, but his countenance was anything but good. He was paler. Thinner. More haggard. And yet, still as handsome as ever. "Do I have ice cream on my face?" Andrew quietly teased.
"No, a giant mosquito. Here, let me smack it," I joked back. He snorted, keeping his eyes closed and not even flinching at my threat. The amount of trust he had in me was so heartwarming. I just wanted us to stay like this forever. As the room darkened with the setting sun, I found myself also drifting off.
The nurses came in throughout the night to check on Andrew, make sure his vitals were normal or, at the very least, hadn't deviated too far in one direction or another since he was initially admitted to the hospital. It got quite bothersome having to move half my body off the bed to ensure I wasn't getting in the way of their work, so after the third nurse came in, I simply got off the bed. Andrew looked betrayed, but I simply stated, "I'm still here. I just don't want to be in the way." Andrew gave a more tired sigh. As he laid down, he stuck out his hand which I happily accepted. I then laid my head down on the bed next to our intertwined hands, lightly pecking his fingers until I heard his breathing slow once more as he fell, yet again, into blissful sleep. I followed soon after.
* * *
The next morning only brought the good news that Andrew hadn't gotten worse. But, he unfortunately, hadn't gotten better either. So his mortality still hung in the balance.
"I want to go to the chapel," Andrew stated. He was either getting restless being forced to stay in bed for days, or he was feeling particularly spiritual.
"We can pray in here," I offered. He vehemently shook his head. "I don't know if the doc will clear it," I pointed out.
"Let's just sneak out," Andrew gave me a mischievous smile. "Please?" he pleaded, using the puppy-dog eyes again.
"You're really milking this," I responded through my pursed lips. I gave in anyway, got up, and got him a zip-up hoodie, since the thin hospital garments alone definitely wouldn't be enough to keep him warm in the over-cooled hospital.
Andrew swung his legs over the side of the bed and I had to stand in front of him to physically stop him from hopping off the bed. He simply gave me an elated smile in response. He was enjoying this bit of rebellion. And I felt myself smile, in spite of my worry over this seemingly innocent excursion. We somehow managed to maneuver him into the hoodie, and took his IV drip with us. Before we could get to the door, the doctor came running in with a small team of staff. They looked worried. I assumed, because the machines suddenly registered no activity since we had to unhook Andrew in order to be able to leave the room.
"I just wanted to go to the chapel," Andrew shrugged like it wasn't such a big deal. I noticed the relief on everyone's expressions as they all left, except for the head doctor.
"You should just let us know," he scolded. I had to hold back a laugh. It was like a parent catching their child trying to sneak out of the house.
"No offense doc, the response time in this hospital is a little slow. A guy could die waiting for permission to leave his room," Andrew pointed out. I glared at him. I didn't like him talking about his life so carelessly. I could tell he was avoiding my gaze.
The doctor sighed, then stated, "That's fine. I'll send an attending to watch you."
"Can't my wife just watch me? She's very observant," Andrew pointed out.
"I wouldn't know what to look for," I immediately responded, dreading the thought of Andrew's life being left in my hands.
"Just the normal stuff you've been looking out for in the past," the doctor informed me. I hesitantly nodded in agreement. I guessed he was relieved he wouldn't have to send essential staff out to babysit his errant patient.
Andrew excitedly took my hand and led me out of the room before the doctor could change his mind. We arrived at the chapel in no time and Andrew entered without hesitation. I, on the other hand, took a few seconds of hesitation before entering the chapel. It might not have been the same one from when Ivan passed, but it was a hospital chapel nonetheless. We were the only ones in there. Andrew took my hand once more and walked me to the front, then sat in the front pew. He looked at the stained glass mural in front of him and a peaceful calm washed over his face.
Not wanting to disrupt whatever peace he'd just found, I decided to also turn my attention to the mural. I took in a deep, shaky breath, feeling that all-too-familiar panic rise within me. Andrew wasn't at peace because he thought he was going to survive. He was at peace with dying. I felt his hand tightly squeeze mine and I willed back the tears once more before turning my head to look at him.
"I'll be OK, Vee," he whispered. He only ever used that nickname if he needed to assure me of something or if he really needed something. In that moment, I wasn't sure which one it was. Possibly both. He needed to assure me that he was ready to go. And he needed my permission for him to go.
"I know you'll be OK," I finally admitted. I knew that much was true.
"You'll be OK too," he entreated. That one, I wasn't so sure about. Maybe. Eventually. I'd reach some semblance of OK. But it would be a long, winding, and tiring road. I didn't want to argue, so I remained silent instead. Andrew placed his hands on my cheeks and gently turned my face towards his. "You'll be OK," he almost commanded. All I could muster was a weak smile.
Finally finding my voice, I stated, "Let's not talk about your death as a certainty." Andrew sighed, let go of my face, then held my hand once more. He bowed his head, and I followed suit.
"Dear Lord," Andrew started out loud. "We know Your will is perfect. We know Your plan is perfect. But sometimes, we find it hard to accept. We ask now for Your understanding as we navigate these unknown waters. We ask for Your guidance, Your patience, Your comfort, and Your love. If it's not Your will that I be healed, but instead that I join You in Paradise, I ask that you give your wonderful daughter, Ivy, the strength to carry on without me. Remind her of Your glorious presence. Remind her of the wonderful place I'm staying in. The place where I'll be waiting until she comes there too. Ease her guilt. And help her find a good way to cope."
I was tearing, but I dared not let any noise escape my lips. "Finally Lord, I want to thank You," Andrew continued after a moment of silence. "You've given me such a wonderful wife. I don't know what I did to deserve her. Maybe I don't deserve her, so You see fit to take me away before I take more than I should." I gave him an angry squeeze at that point. He only responded with a quick chuckle. "But in all seriousness," he continued, "Thank you for the wonderful years Ivy and I spent together. Aside from You, she's the greatest blessing in my life. So please, Lord, take care of this wonderful gift you've given me if there comes a time where I no longer can do that myself. Amen." I felt him turn to look at me but I couldn't bear to look at him.
So, of course, he placed his hand under my chin and gently brought my gaze to meet his. "Such a dirty tactic," I whispered again. He smiled in response. He had been crying too. I knew this bothered him. He was being brave for me. "You don't need to be brave for me," I whispered. "I want you to be vulnerable with me too."
"I've always been open with you. It's just that, while I was praying, picturing you alone, it bothered me. But I really have made peace with leaving. So long as you'll be OK," he added.
I couldn't bring myself to torment him any longer. "If you go, I'll miss you terribly. But I'll survive. And, maybe one day, I'll be OK. So don't hang on for me if it's torturing you. Be at peace," I stated. We leaned our heads together. The mix of pain, release, anger, peace, sadness, and oddly enough, pure joy, were coursing through me.
"Thank you, my love," Andrew breathed. We simply sat there for a while, neither one of us willing to move from that position. After a while, I'm not sure how long, we heard the door behind us open. I looked up and noticed Andrew do the same. It was probably another visitor, trying to find solace in that place. I tried not to think back to Ivan. At least, this time, I'd get to say goodbye.
Andrew stood up, took me by the hand, and we started to head back to the room when I stopped dead in my tracks. Andrew gave me a quizzical look, but I simply whipped out my phone and made a quick call. "Is everything alright?" the doctor's lightly panicked voice came through the phone.
"Can we go outside?" I meekly requested. Andrew deserved one more taste of fresh air.
"He needs to be well bundled," the doctor conditioned.
"Of course," I assured him. I hung up, brought Andrew back to the room so he could put on some sweatpants, then brought him to the hospital's garden.
"You know me so well," Andrew complimented as he sat back on a lawn chair and soaked in the sun.
"I just didn't want to go back to the room yet," I shrugged. Andrew gave me a knowing smirk. That was just an excuse. We both knew I wanted to give him what freedoms I could before he had to be sentenced to an indefinite period of time in that bland, boring room. "You have to tell me if you feel off," I sternly instructed.
"Yes ma'am," Andrew amusedly surrendered. We sat in silence for a small while. I couldn't help but touch Andrew's forehead every few minutes. He was more at risk of running a fever during that warm afternoon. I didn't want this freedom to come at such a high price. Andrew didn't seem to mind. He'd chuckle every time and, before I could place my hand back in my lap, he'd grab it and kiss the back of it. He couldn't care less about all the people out there. It was as if he wanted to give me enough of a supply to last me past his expiration. But every kiss just made me want more. He was setting me up for heartbreak later.
My phone vibrated and I looked down. "Hey Syl," I responded when I answered the call. "We're in the garden."
"Is Drew allowed outside?" Sylvia seemed skeptical.
"The doctor said he could, so I assume so," I affirmed. "Come join us."
Within minutes, both his family and mine were there. They must have bumped into each other while the Joneses were coming.
"You look better," Mrs. Jones smiled at her son. Andrew nodded his head in my direction. Everyone understood the unspoken explanation. They all found chairs and formed a circle and began chatting away with us, avoiding the subject of Andrew's health, save for his mother's initial comment.
All too soon, I received a call from the receptionist, informing us that the doctor wanted Andrew back in his room in the next ten minutes. I sighed. I hated being the bearer of bad news. "They want you back inside, my love," I tenderly informed him, hoping the tranquil tone could ease the sting of the news. It didn't. But Andrew relented without fighting.
"I guess the party's moving inside," he joked. Everyone hastily got up and headed inside, leaving me to fuss over Andrew. It didn't escape me how much more he was leaning on me as we went inside.
"I told you to tell me if you were feeling off," I scolded. I then bit my lip. I shouldn't be spending what could be his final moments scolding him.
But he simply gave me a cheeky grin. He was happy that I wasn't holding back. "Sorry mom," he teased.
"What was that?" his mother asked, thinking he was talking to her.
"Just teasing Ivy," Andrew responded, giving her a genuine smile. Her returned smile was tired, but grateful.
When we got back to the room, there was already a nurse in there, waiting to hook Andrew back up to all the monitoring machines. He looked like a kid taken away from the amusement park too soon when he saw the nurse. He changed in the bathroom then reluctantly got back onto the bed to be re-hooked to everything.
Everyone did their best to bring his spirits back up, but there was an obvious downturn in his demeanor. To Andrew's credit, he was trying to enjoy everyone's company. But he wasn't as animated as he was when we were outside. When everyone left and it was just us two again, Andrew moved over on his bed so I would join him. I knew better than to argue.
After I positioned myself to be his pillow, he said, "I saw my grandma." That was weird. His maternal grandmother passed away while he was in high school. And he never met his paternal grandmother, because she passed away before he was even born. It suddenly hit me what was happening. I'd read about this happening to people who were at death's door. They'd have sudden energy and look like they were recovering, and would also see dead loved ones. There was no doubt in my mind at that point. He was at death's door.
"How did she look?" I choked out.
"Radiant," Andrew responded, squeezing me assuringly. He didn't miss the hiccup in my question. "She and so many others are waiting for me," he continued. "And I'll probably meet Ivan and tell him how you're doing. And your grandparents too," he continued.
"Only tell them the good things. I don't want them worrying," I automatically responded.
Andrew chuckled. A light, weak chuckle. "Oh, I'm telling them everything," he responded, slowly. His responses were getting more labored.
"That's not fair," I continued. "I can't smack a dying man. Why would you tease me like that, Drewzy?" I took a shot. I refused to use that nickname in the past, since it was one Ashley frequently used.
Andrew frowned and looked up at me. "Cheap shot," he murmured. I smirked at him in response. "It's all good things anyway. I can't think of anything bad. Well, except my untimely expiration," he threw in.
"Using fancy words won't make it better," I pointed out.
"I need to keep up with my highly intelligent wife. It's the kind of poetic language she'd use," he excused. His voice was getting smaller with each sentence. But, whether it was out of a selfish need to hear as much of him as I could, or it was a result of wanting to let him feel as much of a sense of normalcy as I could offer, I kept the banter going with him until he fell asleep.
When he appeared on the cusp of falling asleep, whether for the night or for eternity, I found the courage to whisper, "Goodnight my love. Goodbye." He responded with a light moan and a sad, final, smile. He was still breathing. But I didn't want to blink and lose him. So I simply kept staring at this perfect man in my arms, and let the tears fall on him as I felt him slipping away from me forever. I guess reality was jealous of our bliss, and decided that it was time to rear its ugly head once more.
Many people rushed in as the monitors registered his lack of life. Surprisingly enough, I was able to slip off the bed without much effort to let them have their futile attempt at reviving him. But I knew he was already gone. I felt him leave. Someone grabbed me by my shoulders and forced me outside, as though doing so could make his departure any less painful. Any less real. I stood outside, struggling to console myself with the fact that we had all said our goodbyes. That Andrew was in a better place, and he didn't leave until he was sure I could make it without him. I suddenly regretted giving him that permission.
But, I sucked back the fiery ball building in my chest and just waited outside for the staff to tell me what I already knew: Andrew was gone. I wasn't sure how long I waited for that confirmation, but it came. There were a bunch of sympathetic expressions as they all trickled out of the room, having failed to bring him back to life. Not that I blamed them.
"I'm sorry, we did what we could," the doctor told me.
"I know you did. Thank you," I responded, suddenly finding the strength to have a normal conversation. "Would it be alright if I just stayed with him until you send someone to collect him?" I implored.
She gave me a sad smile as she nodded. "Oh, we already have his arrangements taken care of. Who do I inform about that?" I asked further.
"The person who comes for him," she responded. I nodded in response and went inside. At least all the machines, IVs, wires, and everything else were detached from his body. He looked like he was simply sleeping.
It felt like someone had come and scooped out all my insides, but at the same time, they were burning in a white hot fire I had never felt before. My breath came too quickly and stopped all at once. My vision both blurred and became sharper than I could ever remember. Then the blackness started, slowly creeping into the outer perimeter of my vision, then hurrying to claim my sight and my consciousness. I couldn't black out now. I needed a bed. I needed solace. I needed to wake up from this nightmare. I thought to myself, You said you'd be with me forever. But you left me forever instead.
A comforting calm washed over me, and I knew he was consoling me from the other side. "Such a dirty tactic," I murmured, snorting to myself. I pictured his heart-thumping smile at the comment. Sighing, I intertwined our fingers, kissed the quickly cooling appendages, then stared at my soulmate without a soul, until someone came in to take his shell away.
* * *
I stood in the receiving line, hating every condolence and pitying look. I was furious with the world. And then Nick approached me. "Hey," he said with a sad smile. Knowing he was there, when this could undoubtedly bring back bad memories, meant so much to me.
"Hey," I whispered back.
"My parents were here but they couldn't stay. I think they were worried they'd break down and bring you down with them. But they did want me to tell you how much they love you and how sorry they are that this happened. They really loved Drew," he explained.
And that's when I cracked. I was vaguely aware of being held up so I wouldn't meet the floor, but I went down anyway, albeit a lot more softly than anticipated. I then heard clicking, followed by Ella's yelling. "HER TRAUMA IS NOT MEANT FOR YOUR HEADLINE!" I looked up to see Ella, through a tear-filled blur, as well as Derek, Greg, Karen, and Mackenzie surround the cameraman and start shoving him towards the door.
"I can't do this," I began to feel myself heave.
"You'll be OK, Ivy, just breathe," Nick instructed as he knelt down in front of me. I tried, I really did. Then, Samantha and Maria came and sat next to me, giving me a hug. I felt a little better and stood up, with their help. Ella rejoined me and held onto me, no doubt worried I'd crumble again. Then Maria's mother approached me.
"Ivy dear, I'm so sorry," she sighed. "But you're strong. You need to be there for your in-laws," she stated.
"Back off," Ella growled. That took me aback. "She's allowed to grieve. Quit telling her to suppress her emotions for other people. That was her husband. Her husband! You don't get to tell her how to feel!"
"I need some air," I stated, moreso trying to get Ella away before she actually murdered someone, but a little bit because I couldn't stand all the comments anymore. Ella led me outside and I noticed an entourage following.
Once outside, I threw my arms around Ella and broke down again. She held me tightly, refusing to let me fall. But I sensed the rising panic attack. The quick breaths that refused to fill my lungs. "I can't breathe," I stated, truly fearing I'd pass out from the lack of oxygen.
"Calm down," Ella stated in a soothing voice. But I couldn't. I dropped to my knees and Ella joined me as my friends looked on.
"I can't," I cried through the shallow breaths. "I can't. How? How can I breathe without him? I can't do it," I kept repeating, still fighting a losing battle with my ever-tightening lungs.
"Don't talk," Ella barely whispered. "Deep breath," she continued.
"I can't," I stubbornly replied, feeling my lungs constrict even more. I could barely see. The black dots were growing and my vision continued to blur. "I don't want to," I barely managed to get out my confession.
I felt Ella hug me. And then someone else came behind me and gave me a hug as well. The dreadlock that fell on my shoulder told me it was Derek. Then another person joined and another until I was completely wrapped in a mess of comforting arms.
But the comfort meant little to me. I didn't want it. I wanted Andrew. And no matter how often I replayed our memories in my head, no matter how often I remembered the beautiful words he prayed for me, no matter how wonderful our time was together, I just kept thinking of one, indisputable fact: it was too little.
In spite of myself, I took in a deep breath, pushed down my hurt, and decided to brave the remaining well-wishers inside. Even Vyola showed up, and the camera-person from earlier made sense. He must have followed her there and decided to scoop up the fluff story of my breakdown as a bonus. I felt the bitterness rising in my chest at the thought, only to have it suddenly cooled when Vyola hugged me.
"I won't say anything other than this: you take whatever time you need to feel better. Don't hurt yourself, and if you need a friend, call me. I know you have a lot of friends here, but on the off chance they're all busy, or you weirdly think of me first, call me. You have a right to be upset. You have a right to think this is unfair. Andrew was an amazing man."
The tears spilled over once more, but I was so deeply moved and comforted by her words, I allowed a small smile to come to my face. "Thank you," was all I could think to say. She gave me a reassuring squeeze, put her sunglasses on, and left the church.
A bunch of college friends had made it to the funeral. Most of them seemed confused as to why Andrew, whose health they were never aware of, would suddenly be taken by a mysterious illness that no one seemed to have the answers to. I only informed people that he had a rare condition that took him. I didn't think people needed more information than that. I received their condolences as well, and was grateful no one pressed for answers. Accepting condolences was starting to get exhausting, but I pressed on. I noticed that Andrew's family was doing the same. If they could keep it together, I could too.
Finally, the last of the well-wishers trickled out of the church just as they finished wheeling that glossy box into the black hearse that would take Andrew's body to its final resting place. I looked away, burying my head in Ella's shoulder as she held me up. I allowed myself that much emotion.