And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
A two-year-old Johanna Mason stands silently by the open door, hesitantly peering into her parents' room. She doesn't quite understand what is happening, but her father is weeping and her mother ghastly pale, so whatever it is can't be any good.
"Nerissa, don't leave," begs Mr. Mason, tone drenched with sorrow. "Please don't leave us. For the sake of our family, don't leave."
Mrs. Mason smiles tragically and extends a bony hand to caress her husband's cheek. "I will never leave you, Templar," says she in a voice hoarse with sickness. "You must know that. I will never leave this family."
A beat of silence. Teary eyes locked. Then a fresh wave of pain rocks through Templar's soul, his body shaking with unearthly sobs. He takes his wife's hand and plants a gentle kiss on it, and he remembers. He remembers the night he asked her to marry him. He got down on one knee, took her hand, and kissed it like how he is kissing it now.
The little Johanna, unable to stay still any longer, toddles over to her mothers bedside. She places a tentative hand on the stained linens and cocks her head sideways.
"Mama hurt?" she asks, her tone rising at the end with either curiousity or concerning.
"No, no, Jo-jo," says Mrs. Mason quietly. "Mama is not hurt."
Johanna frowns, confused. Her gaze slowly moves from her thin and fragile mother to her glassy-eyed, broken father. "Da-da hurt?"
Mrs. Mason passes a discontented look to her husband, as if saying, See what you've just done? But she glances back at her tiny, uncomprehending daughter and simply says, "Yes, Jo-jo, Daddy is hurt."
"Why?" cries little Jo-jo. "Da-da hurt why? He hungry? He sleepy?"
Mr. Mason runs his hand through Johanna's curly brown hair, releasing a tired sigh. "Daddy is tired, Johanna, that is all," he explains. "That is all."
As if understanding, Johanna bobs her little head for a nod. "Mama tired, too?"
"Yes, Jo-jo," Mrs. Mason admits with a tiny chuckle despite herself. "Mama is quite tired."
"Then sleep you!" exclaims Johanna triumphantly, grinning widely as if proud that she'd just solved all of their problems.
A new roll of physical pain runs through her mother's heart, and she stifles a gasp. Shock is evident across her features, and her husband grips her fragile hand tighter. "Yes," she finally sighs. "Yes, I… I think I just might sleep."
With that, the pain subsides a little in her chest. It subsides enough that she is able to cast one last forlornly loving look at her family, and then drops her gaze as her heartbeat slows. She feels sleepy all of the sudden, and grogginess runs through her veins.
"Nerissa," growls Mr. Mason as his wife's eyelids flutter closed. "Nerissa! Wake up! Nerissa!"
His cries carry through the entire neighborhood, and nobody knows what is happening. But they will soon enough.
Johanna doesn't quite understand what is happening, but her father is weeping and her mother ghastly pale, so whatever it is can't be any good.
And that is the first goodbye Johanna Mason has ever uttered.
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you