Page 36 of Glad You Exist

I let myself go and sob into his chest just in time to hear the unmistakable sound of my mother flatlining.

Aunt Cat died.

Flatlined. Just like that.

I had never seen someone die before, at least not in real life.

For all the time I spent playing video games, you would think that would have numbed me in the face of actual death, but my reaction is the complete opposite.

I will never take a second of my life for granted ever again.

I will never forget the moment when they called her time of death. The guttural cries that were coming out of Dan as he collapsed on the floor, nearly pulling Mom down with him.

The way Liz switched off at the sound of her brother’s sobs.

One second, she is in my arms, losing herself in pain and grief. The next she wrenches herself out of my grasp and with slow breaths crosses the room to Dan. She takes him in her arms like her pain comes second to his. Not long after, she turns to ask Summer to take him outside. Dan’s break is so intense that it takes three people to pick him up. Summer and Kim hold him on one side while Kyle holds the other.

Mom has composed herself enough to take care of all the arrangements needed including calling Liz’s dad and Aunt Cat’s family.

The doctor tries to talk to Liz, but she is impassive. She walks right by him to the private bath. Moments later, she comes out with a bowl of warm water and rolled up towels. Then simply stands there and patiently waits for the nurses to do their thing.

They try to tell her that she can’t touch the body, but she ignores them all until an older nurse rushes in. She speaks with the doctor then sits with Liz on the bed and helps her lift Aunt Cat.

My heart shatters as I watch the girl I love bathe her mother one last time.

And like a coward, I walk out of the room, unable to bear witness to it.

* * *

I amsure as hell not going to chicken out today.

I pull my gaze away from Liz.

She is seated on the first pew sitting at the end of the row with her brother and Summer. I am on the third row with Kim and Kyle.

I hinge forward, elbows on my thighs and bury my face in my hands.

I focus on taking slow breaths to keep from crying.

My heart feels like its permanently lodged in my throat.

My chest has a tightness that’s downright excruciating. It’s nothing compared to the sharp twists in my gut that flat-out feel like knife stabs when I look at Liz or even think of her.

I know my pain can’t compare to what Liz is feeling. She lost her mom.

Or how my mom, who’s sitting on the first row on my side with Aunt Cat’s family, is feeling. She lost her best friend that day. I’m reminded just how selfless my mom is as she holds on to Liz’s grandma. Between grieving and throwing herself into funeral arrangements so Liz and Dan wouldn’t have to worry about it, she’s spreading herself thin.

God, I love my mom.

I look up to check on the other woman who has my heart.

I have spent the last three hours watching Liz just sit there with her hands clasped on her lap and her head hung low.

From here I had the perfect vantage point of every shallow breath and throat bob from her. She’s hanging on by a thread.

I know she’s trying to stay strong because Dan is losing it. I knew this because not once has she even tried to approach her mom’s casket. As if she knows it will break her.

She ignores everyone who approaches her to offer their condolences and kept her head down. Even when Kim goes to her, she says nothing. I have yet to attempt to go to her.

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