The Price of Dawn
6:42 am
Payton,
It’s 6:42 and the sun is starting to rise. It’s dawn and the doctors are in the room getting ready to unhook you from your machines. Dr. Hendricks talked to your parents and me when he came in. I’m sure he was trying to prepare us or say comforting words but I didn’t hear a word he said. I’ve been in my own little dreamlike state these past few days.
They’re getting ready to unplug everything, Pay. Please, just wake up. I swear if you wake up right now I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll go to church multiple times a week, I’ll get rid of the pop-tarts I have hidden in the cabinet and eat your tofu pastries for breakfast, I’ll join you for yoga, I’ll clean. I just need you to wake up.
You’re unhooked from the machines and the oxygen mask is off. It’s taking everything in me to not stand up and yell at the doctors to hook you back up. I know it won’t do any good though. All I can do is sit here and count the beeps as the get slower.
Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One…
That’s it. No more beeps. Time of death: 6:47 a.m., rights as the sun fully emerged over the horizon. I don’t know how I’m going to live without you, Pay. I will though. I’ll help your parents with the funeral plans and then in a couple days I’ll wake up, put on my best outfit, and say all the good things about you at your funeral. It’s going to suck though.
I’m going to bury this book with you, Payton. I want you to always have the journal of my last letters to you. Before I close it for good though, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being my rock. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for being you. I will never forget you and even if I do get remarried and have children in the future (I know, you already told me that I need to move on), you will always be my first love and will always have part of my heart. I’m so glad I got to spend these last five years with you.
Love,
Eddie
It’s 6:42 and the sun is starting to rise. It’s dawn and the doctors are in the room getting ready to unhook you from your machines. Dr. Hendricks talked to your parents and me when he came in. I’m sure he was trying to prepare us or say comforting words but I didn’t hear a word he said. I’ve been in my own little dreamlike state these past few days.
They’re getting ready to unplug everything, Pay. Please, just wake up. I swear if you wake up right now I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll go to church multiple times a week, I’ll get rid of the pop-tarts I have hidden in the cabinet and eat your tofu pastries for breakfast, I’ll join you for yoga, I’ll clean. I just need you to wake up.
You’re unhooked from the machines and the oxygen mask is off. It’s taking everything in me to not stand up and yell at the doctors to hook you back up. I know it won’t do any good though. All I can do is sit here and count the beeps as the get slower.
Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One…
That’s it. No more beeps. Time of death: 6:47 a.m., rights as the sun fully emerged over the horizon. I don’t know how I’m going to live without you, Pay. I will though. I’ll help your parents with the funeral plans and then in a couple days I’ll wake up, put on my best outfit, and say all the good things about you at your funeral. It’s going to suck though.
I’m going to bury this book with you, Payton. I want you to always have the journal of my last letters to you. Before I close it for good though, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being my rock. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for being you. I will never forget you and even if I do get remarried and have children in the future (I know, you already told me that I need to move on), you will always be my first love and will always have part of my heart. I’m so glad I got to spend these last five years with you.
Love,
Eddie