I watched as the sea splashed against the rocks and hung my head down low. I could only think about him. All the time, he’s all I could think about.463Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq6ova4ZCSm
”Hey, you okay?” 463Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlFTF0Cgevb
I looked up to find George staring at me. 463Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpbwKjIAnhJ
“I can’t stop thinking about him.”
George blinked. "Who?"
I stared at the horizon, watching as the waves receded before being shoved back against the jagged rocks. Part of me wanted to dive into the murky waters and never resurface. The other part, the sane part, reasoned doing so would only hurt him more. I couldn't give up on him, no matter how painful it was.
It wasn't his fault, after all, that he had to keep leaving me. The moments of clarity were like the Washington sun, rare and fleeting. If only I could reach him.
"You," I stated, more direct than I meant.
George frowned, confused. "You can't stop thinking about me?"
"Yes," I confessed. Tears brimmed my eyes, blurring the image of him, momentarily. Swallowing, I forced myself to regain control over the despair enveloping me.
Two weeks. Two weeks was all the doctors had given us. I wouldn't spend it wallowing in self pity.
"Will you remember me?"
I startled at his question. My gaze shifted, meeting his eyes that were suddenly filled with longing. A lump formed in my throat. I choked on it, cleared my throat, and forced my voice steady as I answered him.
"I'll always remember you." Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn't look away. He needed to know I wouldn't forget him.
George smiled. "You look so much like your mother. She would have been so proud of the woman you've become. I'm proud. Have I told you that? Because I am proud of you, daughter."
A sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh left my lips before I could stifle it. George might not have been my biological father, but he had raised me as his own.
Reaching out, I squeezed his wrinkled hand. The hands were aged from years of providing for my mother and I, years mostly spent in happiness. Really, I shouldn't complain. We had had plenty of living. Some people weren't so lucky. But I didn't feel lucky. I felt cheated.
Cancer could go to hell where it came from, but unfortunately death wasn't partial. It didn't care that your wedding was coming up and your dad wouldn't be there to walk you down the aisle, or that he would never meet any future grandchildren. It was stealing him from me and I was angry. Angry and hopeless.
I had been so wrapped in my despair, I hadn't noticed George's blank stare.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"I can't stop thinking about him," I repeated, but my voice cracked and more tears fell, soaking the flannel shirt he had leant me to fend off the early spring breeze.
I searched for recognition in his gaze, anything to tell him he remembered the conversation from mere minutes before.
"Who, dear?"
I glanced back at the sea, appreciating the violent thrashing of the waves that mirrored the torment waging in my soul.
Steeling myself, I rose to my feet and shook the sand off my hands.
"Someone I'll never forget," I said, forcing a smile to my lips. "Now let's get you back before the nurses start to worry."
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