I do not own Grey's Anatomy.
Thanks for ripping my heart out, Alex.
The Very Last Thing
In that moment when there was nothing medically left to be done, when all the meds and tools and procedures and science could not save the tiny child dying on the table, Alex Karev did the only thing left in the world he could do.
He closed the tiny chest to cover the exposed organs.
He set down his pediatric tools.
Pulled off his surgical gloves.
Tore off his protective mask.
And reached down.
He gathered the tiny, cancer-ravaged body in his big, strong hands.
And gently, as gently as any father ever could, lifted the child.
And cradled him to his chest.
Rocked him.
Patted him.
Cast his warm, comforting breath upon the soft newborn flesh.
And held him as he died.
So that the very last thing the boy would ever feel in this world would not be the electrodes. Or the paper covering. The rubber tubes. The metal wires.
Or the chemicals coursing through his failing system.
But contact.
Human contact.
Warmth.
Tenderness.
Care.
Love.
And he did not let go.
Until the child was gone.
I hold my sleeping infant son as I pen this. The one they said would not live. The one that's strong and healthy and alive. For now.
And I pray for strength for everyone whose child is not.
