It wasn't a secret that things between him and his mother were always tense, but somehow the circumstance of those last few weeks lessened the tension between them. They had a handful of really good chats.
The one that stuck out in his mind is the day he asked her about the cross she was always playing with. She tried to wave him off but he insisted. "There's never going to be a better time to."
She had frowned at that and stopped playing with it. "I've done quite a bit of praying since your accident. Even more in the last six months."
"That I won't go to Hell? If it's any consolation Mother, I've been living there for two years now."
"And what would Heaven be, do you think?"
"I'll let you know if I get there." He brushed off the question and moved the conversation from the tedious subject of religion. It wasn't what he wanted to think about in his final days. But later on that night, when his family had left him to sleep and he couldn't, he came back to the question of Heaven.
Two working legs. Two working legs and two working arms. That was his idea of Heaven. He dwelled on the simple concept for a moment before it grew. He knew exactly what he would do once they were working again. He'd run all the way around the castle, the two miles to Clark's house and grab her by the waist. He imagined her shocked enough to shut up for once as he pulled her ample thigh that had split her mother's skirt at the seam up around his own waist. His strong again hands would hold her the way he'd been pining to for months.
He thought he knew pain after the accident. He thought he knew what it was to suffer from the sheer want of use of his limbs. To remember the big life he had led before and know he could never do a single one of the things he loved again. But he was wrong. Being around Clark every single day. Loving her from the chair and not being able to stand up from it, to go to her and push her against a wall and kiss her until she couldn't think of a single terrible joke, or tickle her to hear her laugh, that was suffering.
Heaven was absolutely Louisa. Giving her the things he wanted to give her. Living the life he imagined they could have if there hadn't been any accident. Taking her bungee jumping and rock climbing and seeing the ridiculous outfits she'd choose to wear throughout their adventures. Making love to her every single night until the day he died. Being able to grab her hand instead of waiting for her to grab his. That would be Heaven.
He let himself live in that fantasy in his final days, and especially those final moments. He died imagining himself wrapped around her, his hands able to roam freely over her body while he watched her face. He'd wished it would last forever when his heart stopped beating.