Page 94 of The Breaking Point

The nurse gave me a sad look. “Your mom signed a DNR before she was put on a ventilator. There’s nothing we can do.”

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to argue, to beg, to demand that they resuscitate Mom anyway.

Grace took my hand. Tears were in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.

A physician came into the room. We all watched as Mom’s heart finally stopped beating completely. And then the nurses began turning off the ventilator and taking out the breathing tube.

“Time of death, one thirteen,” said the head nurse quietly.

I was squeezing Grace’s hand so tightly that I was probably hurting her. But she didn’t pull away.

It was only her standing next to me that kept me from falling to my knees and screaming in agony.

After that, it was a lot of paperwork, condolences, brochures for funeral homes, and assurances that Mom was no longersuffering. Before Grace and I headed to our hotel, I gave Mom a kiss on the cheek and told her that I loved her.

“How will we check in to our room?” I asked Grace, my brain filled with sludge.

“Don’t worry,” she told me.

I realized that she’d made sure we would be able to check in no matter the time since the hotel had check-in kiosks. That extra bit of effort made me want to burst into tears.

How had I ever deserved this woman in my life?

Once we finally got into our room, I just sat down on the bed, exhausted but knowing that there was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep again.

Grace sat down next to me.

“There’s a game tomorrow,” I said suddenly. “I can’t go.”

“I already let Mac know. He’ll tell my dad,” Grace replied.

“Okay.”

I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t move either. I felt her hand reach for mine, but I didn’t want to be touched right then.

Touching hurt. Touching reminded me that Mom couldn’t feel any kind of touch again. She was cold and lying in the hospital morgue.

“I need to shower,” I said abruptly, getting up.

The moment I stood under the hot water, the tears started. I’d almost thought I didn’t have any tears to shed for Mom anymore. I’d cried enough about her over the years. As a kid, I’d quickly realized how pointless crying was.

But I couldn’t stop. I sobbed until I had to lean over, trying to catch my breath. I’d never felt like this before. Completely overwhelmed with emotion.

It hurt. Why did it have to hurt this much?

“Oh, Brady.” And then Grace held me in her arms, letting me cry against her shoulder. She helped me up when I couldn’t do it myself.

I cried until my eyes hurt and the water was running cold. It was only when Grace helped me out of the shower and handed me a towel that I realized she was still wearing her clothes.

“You’re soaked,” I said, my voice hoarse.

She shrugged. She dripped all over the floor, her hair plastered to her head, her mascara running. She looked absolutely gorgeous.

“I’ll hang my clothes on the balcony. Now, go get into bed, okay?” she said.

I did as she bade. I didn’t have the energy to protest. After getting under the covers, I waited for her to join me.

There’d been no discussion of separate rooms this trip, and I was infinitely grateful for it. Even if I wasn’t up for sex, I needed Grace’s company to get through this.

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