The ride from Boston College’s hockey arena to my hometown is a little over two hours. An accident slows us down because a car spun out on the ice and has blocked two lanes on the highway. It makes it take forever to get out of the backed up traffic, pushing our arrival time on the GPS.
Every minute added is torture.
We checked flights first, but everything’s still grounded because of the fresh snowfall.
Our only option is to drive and the slow progress only makes my anxiety worse. My stomach is a messy tangle that won’t settle while I methodically move the balls on the spiral ring Easton got me back and forth on the prongs.
My parents send me a photo of Grandpa in his hospice bed and it hits me harder than I expect to see him like that. His body looks so frail and his wrinkled hands have a mottled grayish tinge. I’m only able to look at the photo for so long before a stabbing pain lances through my gut. I put the phone back on the grip mounted to the dashboard.
Not long after we left, Easton told Reagan I wouldn’t be home, but he’d bring her car back in the morning. She sent me a long, supportive message. I can’t read through all of it before my vision blurs again because I don’t want to believe this is even happening.
I call Mom on speakerphone shortly after to give her an update on our progress once we finally leave Boston city limits, biting my lip raw. As soon as it connects, I don’t give her a second to talk.
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“We’re just getting out of the city now. How is he?”
She pauses, saying something to Dad. “He, um. He’s out of it, but the nurses have assured us that he’s not in any pain. Dad’s sitting with him now and holding his hand. They told us it’s comforting if we keep talking to him so he knows we’re with him.”
My throat grows hot, muscles strained. “I’m on my way. Tell him I’m coming.”
“Okay. Drive safe.”
“We are.”
Easton’s jaw is set when I glance at him in the shadows of the car. He goes as fast as he can, though I can tell from the way his knuckles turn white when his grip tightens on the wheel that if it was safe, he would floor it for me to get me there as quickly as possible.
My aching heart squeezes in gratitude. I’d never get through this if I didn’t have him by my side.
Without looking, he reaches for my hand, always able to sense when I need him. I grab it as a lifeline, closing my eyes.
Grandpa’s smiling face is there when I do. Pressure builds in my head and tears seep beneath my lids, clumping my lashes when they spill down my cheeks.
At some point, exhaustion gets the best of me. I drift off in a fitful sleep.
I startle awake when I hear Easton talking in a low, serious tone. I don’t know how long I was out for, but I dreamed of Grandpa hugging me the day I told him I got accepted into Heston. The sense of hope and peace from the dream shreds to pieces as reality slams back into me.
We’re still on the highway. It’s after midnight and we’re about thirty minutes away.
“Yeah.” Easton glances at me. My phone is pressed to his ear. “Okay. We’ll head to your parents’ place. Send me the address. Thanks. I’ll have her there soon.”
His sympathetic expression puts me on high alert. I fiddle with the strap on my purse, sitting forward when he puts the phone back on the dash mount.
“What’s going on? Why are we going to my parents’ house when Grandpa’s at the hospice center? I need to be with him right now.”
He sighs, reaching for my hand. I tense, heart pounding. His thumb rubs my knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” he starts quietly. “That was Ryan. Your grandfather just passed away ten minutes ago. Ryan said he was holding on, but then it happened quickly.”
“No,” I whisper brokenly.
He can’t be g—
My throat closes with a sharp pain, eyes searing as they brim with a fresh wave of devastated tears. I shake my head, refusing to believe this is happening.
No. Please, no.
But we were so close. I was almost there so I could be with him.
My entire family got the chance to say goodbye except me.
It hurts to breathe. To swallow. To talk.
Everything fucking hurts.
“I didn’t make it,” I choke out hoarsely.
Easton holds my hand tighter. He pulls off to the side of the road and turns on the hazards, letting go only long enough to come around the side of the car. Opening my door, he tugs me against him while my world falls apart.
“Shh, I know. I’m so sorry.” He sounds as anguished as I do, consoling me with gruff words while stroking my hair and clutching me in his embrace. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He unbuckles me and lifts me to hold me closer, sliding into my seat with me on his lap. I bury my face against his chest and hug him with every ounce of strength I have left. I’m no longer in control of my body, tremors racking me as blood rushes in my ears.
Everything I’ve held back breaks through in an overwhelming rush. I cry so hard it’s a struggle to drag air into my lungs. Through my breakdown, Easton never lets me go.
“No,” I sob in utter defeat.
“I’m here, Maya,” Easton whispers thickly as his own emotions splinter through his composure. “I’m sorry, baby. He knows how much you love him. He knows.”
He locks me in his strong arms, murmuring against my temple while I soak his hoodie with my tears. Every part of me aches with unbearable pain.
I wish I’d hugged Grandpa tighter the last time I saw him. Wish I’d spent longer with him.
How was I supposed to know that day we walked through the grounds would be the last time I saw him?
Another tormented sob racks through me.
Grandpa promised me. He promised to see me graduate. Two months. He was supposed to make it two more months for me.
He didn’t make it, and neither did I.
My grandpa is gone, and I didn’t get to talk to him one last time. I don’t know how life will ever be the same again without him.
