Page 5 of Certified Pressure 3
The doctor put him in my arms instead. My chest burned and my eyes stung, but I couldn’t even bring myself to look at his face for more than a second. My hands shook too bad.
I leaned forward, my voice barely there. “Here, baby.” I placed him in Ka’mari’s arms, ‘cause no matter how much it hurt, I knew she needed to hold him. She clutched him against her chest, kissin’ his cheeks through her tears, whisperin’ his name over and over, “Kamir… Kamir… my baby.”
I couldn’t move at first. My feet felt glued to the floor, my vision blurry from the tears I was fightin’ to hold back. My mind kept tellin’ me this shit wasn’t real. But then after a while, I looked at Ka’mari holdin’ him, cryin’ into his tiny face, and my body finally moved. I sat on the edge of the bed, slid my arms under her hands, and took him back.
He was weightless, but the weight of him crushed me all the same. I held him against my chest, starin’ down at his face, studyin’ every detail. He looked just like me. My son was a mirror image of me, and yet he was gone. My eyes burned so bad I thought I would break down right there, but I forced it back ‘cause I ain’t wanna lose it in front of Ka’mari.
I kissed his forehead, then kissed his cheeks, then pressed my lips to his tiny fingers that was curled up tight. “I’m sorry, lil’ man,” I whispered, my voice low and cracked. “I wanted to give you everything. You was supposed to be my heir. You was supposed to grow up in all this I built. You was supposed tocarry my name. And now you gone before I even got to hear you cry.”
Ka’mari leaned into me, her face pressed against my shoulder, her body still shakin’. She kissed our son too, kissin’ him like she could pour her soul back into his tiny body and make him breathe again. I couldn’t stand to see her break like that, but I also couldn’t let go of him. It felt like if I put him down I was lettin’ him go forever.
So we didn’t let him go. We held him together all night. Nurses came in, doctors checked on Ka’mari, but nobody rushed us. They let us have that time. The lights in the room was dim, and the world outside didn’t exist. It was just me, Ka’mari, and our son. We whispered to him, told him how much we loved him, how much we wanted him, how much we would’ve given for him to stay. Ka’mari cried until she fell asleep on my shoulder, still clutchin’ part of the blanket that wrapped him.
I stayed awake, starin’ at him for hours. I rubbed his cheek with my thumb, kissed his forehead again and again, and whispered his name. Kamir…I wanted it to echo through my heart forever ‘cause that was all I had left of him.
When mornin’ came, the nurse knocked soft and asked if we was ready. My throat closed up, my stomach twisted, but I knew what that meant. It was time to give him back. It was time to face the fact that we was leavin’ this place without him.
Ka’mari woke up slow, her eyes swollen and red. She looked at me holdin’ him and shook her head, whisperin’, “I can’t… I can’t let him go.”
I kissed her hand, pressed my forehead to hers, and told her, “We gotta, baby. We ain’t got no choice.” My voice broke when I said it, and the tears I been holdin’ back finally slid down my face. I didn’t sob, I didn’t break loud, but I cried in silence while I laid our son back in her arms so she could kiss him one last time.
We held him together, kissin’ his face, whisperin’ goodbye. Then the nurse came in with tears in her eyes and asked again.
Ka’mari placed him back in the blanket, and I tucked it tight around him before handin’ him over. That was the hardest shit I ever did in my life. My arms felt empty the second he left them.
Ka’mari collapsed against me, cryin’ hard again, and I just wrapped her up, lettin’ her soak my shirt. I couldn’t even look at the door they carried him out of. It felt like they was carryin’ my soul away.
Later that day, the doctor came back in and told us Ka’mari could be discharged. The words didn’t even register at first. Discharged... Like it was a regular day, like we wasn’t leavin’ here broken.
We packed up in silence. I carried her bag, held her hand, and walked her out like a robot. The driver opened the car door, and Ka’mari slid in, leanin’ her head against the window. I sat beside her, starin’ out at the world that kept movin’ while mine had stopped.
We was supposed to be leavin’ with a car seat, strappin’ our son in, drivin’ home as a family. Instead, we was drivin’ home empty handed, broken hearted, and not even knowin’ how we was gon’ breathe through the next hour.
I reached for her hand, slid my fingers through hers, and whispered, “We gon’ get through this. Somehow, some way, we gon’ get through it.”
But inside I ain’t believe a damn word. A piece of me was gone, and I knew I would never get it back.
The House of Eternity
Two weeks later…
Standin’ over my son’s small, gold casket broke a nigga all over again. I thought I had cried all my tears when we left that hospital, but seein’ him like this made my chest cave in. The casket was perfect, tiny but regal, polished so bright it caught every light in the room. They had the lid open just enough for me to look down at him wrapped in the whitest silk, a crown embroidered on the fabric so clean it looked like it belonged to a king. He was barely the size of my forearm, and that was the part that fucked me up the most. My boy didn’t even get the chance to breathe on his own, but I made sure if he had to go, he went like royalty.
The place wasn’t no church and it wasn’t no funeral home either. Pops made sure of that. He told me my son deserved better than a regular service, so they built this whole scene inside a hall that looked like somethin’ out the movies. It had floors so smooth you could see your reflection in them, gold pillars stretchin’ up to the ceiling and stained glass windows glowin’ even though the sun outside was hidden behind clouds. It felt sacred, like walkin’ inside a temple where only gods and kings belonged. They called it The House of Eternity, and that name sat heavy on me ‘cause it was true. My son was gone forever, and all I had left was this moment to tell him goodbye.
I stood at the front with Ka’mari right beside me. She was leanin’ into her mama’s arm, lookin’ smaller than I’d ever seen her. Two weeks ago she had some weight on her, carryin’ my boy in her stomach, but now her frame looked fragile, like a gust of wind could knock her down. The bags under her eyes told the story of nights without sleep, and her lips was dry from cryin’. She held herself like if she let go, she would fall apart right there. And the crazy thing is, I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t buy her no gift, I couldn’t make no promise, I couldn’t protect her from this pain. The only thing I could do was hold her hand and stand tall so she knew I wasn’t goin’ nowhere.
Pops was on my other side, his hand on my shoulder. He didn’t say nothin’, but he didn’t have to. Just feelin’ the weight of his arm told me he understood. My father had always been bigger than life, but in that moment he was just a man standin’ next to his son, knowin’ there wasn’t no amount of money or power that can protect you from buryin’ your child. Mama stood close too, her fingers laced through mine for a second, squeezin’ like she was tryin’ to give me some of her strength. Her perfume lingered in the air and it reminded me of all the times she patched me back together when I was younger. Inever thought I would be standin’ here as a grown ass man, needin’ her comfort like I was still a boy, but I did.
Ka’mari’s father was there, stiff as always. He looked right at me and gave me a head nod, like that was supposed to mean somethin’. I stared past him like he wasn’t even in the room. Nigga never liked me, and truth be told, I ain’t give a fuck. He could think what he wanted, but this wasn’t about him. This was about my son, and if he couldn’t respect that, then fuck him. Ka’mari’s mother cried soft, her hand runnin’ up and down her daughter’s back, whisperin’ things I couldn’t make out. I wasn’t mad at that. She loved her daughter, and I couldn’t take that from her.
The choir started singin’, voices risin’ through the hall like a hymn sent straight to heaven. I pulled my shades down lower over my eyes, not ‘cause I wanted to hide, but because I needed somethin’ between me and the world. People was watchin’, and I wasn’t about to break down in front of everybody. I could feel the sting in my eyes though, burnin’ like a fire I couldn’t put out.
I leaned forward and touched the casket, runnin’ my fingers over the gold. “Lil Prince,” I whispered, my voice rough. “Daddy love you, forever.”
Ka’mari broke right then. Her knees buckled, and I had to grab her so she didn’t hit the floor. She cried so loud it made my heart hurt. Her body shook in my arms, and all I could do was hold her tight, whisperin’ her name, tellin’ her I got her. She kept sayin’ his name, “Kamir,” over and over like if she said it enough times, he would come back.
The pastor spoke, sayin’ words about life and death, about how even the smallest souls have purpose, but my ears tuned half of it out. All I heard was Ka’mari’s cries and the sound of my own heartbeat poundin’ in my head. I wanted to punch somethin’, break somethin’, anything to get this pain out, but I couldn’t. I had to stand there and let this shit eat me alive.
