Take My Breath Away
"We have brains, we can find cures for these things and make life fair," I lash out at, wail, and plea all at once at my not expecting and totally taken aback "victim."
For the next "good intentioned" person who tries to "console" and "comfort" me with the words "well life isn't fair" will be slapped upside their head and be given a swift kick on their bun.
I take that back.
Not for me words (or promised action to be taken) but for labeling the person, in this case Frasier, who was at the receiving end of my lashing, as a victim.
The real victim here is Noelle, who is sleeping along side her daddy's bed.
She is the one who will have to grow up never knowing who her daddy was and never knowing just how much he loved her, even before she was ever born.
Niles' doctor has now entered the room to check Niles' vitals, as he does, Roz, followed by Frasier and Martin enter the room.
Dr. Newsome informs us it will be "anytime now" and leaves.
Roz, even though she is family, knows that these final minutes should be immediate family only, gathers a now restless Noelle into her arms, and says she'll take her out in the hall to feed her for me.
Frasier comes over to where I am now sitting, which is on the side of Niles' bed.
I lower my head, ashamed for my tongue-lashing. I try to make amends. "Frasier, about before, I…" but the words escape me.
Somehow he has read my mind and reassures me.
"Its all right Daph, I understand," he whispers.
Martin limps to the other side of his bed, as the Crane men prepare.
For the first time in the twelve years since I have known them both, I detect tears in both their eyes, ready to spill out.
Frasier leans over and does his now customary tousling of his little brother's hair.
"I'll miss my morning coffee with you Niles and listening to your endless babble about everything under the sun. When I said 'I'm listening,' I meant that for my callers, not for my kid brother…" he softly chuckles before turning serious.
"Niles. I apologize for all the times we've quarreled and competed with each other, especially over the foolish things. I guess I was just insecure and afraid to be outdone by my brainy kid brother and I never gave you the credit you so richly and finely deserve."
The tears now fell.
"You're a good man Niles, and more importantly, you're the best kid brother…"
Frasier sniffs and gives his brother one last tousle.
"I love you Niles, and I'm damn proud to be the brother of Dr. Niles Crane."
I glance over at Martin, who now had tears of his own rolling down his cheeks. I knew Frasier had a difficult time getting his words out, and for Martin, it would be even more so.
"Niles…" Martin begins, barely audible. "You know I hate things like this…just tell your Mother when you see her I miss her and I love her, and…"
Long seconds pass before finally, "I love you too, son."
Martin leans over and gives his youngest son, more than likely his first, and now sadly his last, kiss on his forehead.
Frasier stands behind me and places two hands on my quivering and sagging shoulders.
"We'll be outside," Frasier whispers in my ear and kisses me atop my head and both he and Martin head outside.
Committing every curvature, as if I could ever forget, of his body to my tactile memory, I breathlessly and nervously caress my trembling hand over his entire body just as I did the first time we ever made love.
All the emotions and sensations came flooding back as the memory of what I felt that night returned and consumed my entire body.
The playful, pleasurable discovering we shared as we "explored" one another's body.
New emotions and sensations devoured and replaced the old as the realization and the reality of the situation was sinking in.
This time I would be a solo explorer.
This time it would be a painful rediscovering.
This time would be the last time.
I save his chest and face for last.
I run my finger down his surgical scar that serves as a reminder that he is a survivor and that he had his chest cut open.
I run my hand over his chest that was, up until a mere few minutes ago, artificially raised, and lowered. I allow my hand to be buried in his massive sea of chest hair that I have always found so incredibly sexy and irresistible as a pillow.
I now stroke his cheek.
I do not share this with anyone, even with Martin who would understand more than anyone.
I have become desperate in these final minutes.
I search for a sign.
Any sign.
A sigh…
A blink…
A tear…
The squeezing of his hand…
Nothing.
I lean over and pull something from out of my purse.
"Remember this Niles?" I ask him as I ring the bell.
I place it over his head and I lean over and press my lips to his.
Just like our first kiss, which was under the very same mistletoe that now hangs over his head, his touch takes my breath away.
Slowly, I unlock my lips from his.
I am breathless and heavy-hearted.
I take in a deep but unsteady breath.
The "pillow," for the last time, beckons me.
I respond in kind, and I lay my head atop his chest that no longer moves as quickly as it had only moments earlier with assistance.
I listen to his ever slowing, methodical beat of his heart.
Even with my ear pressed to it, it still sounds soft, and weak and very tired and in search of a long rest.
I know his journey still isn't over.
I reassure him.
"You'll be going home very soon, My Love."
Selfishly, I wanted it to be ours.
But in my heart I know, this was no longer about me.
It wasn't about Noelle.
It was about Niles.
The man I love more than anything in this world besides our daughter.
It was about honoring the father of our child and the man that I vowed to love in sickness and in health…
In death do us part…
It was about honoring his final wish.
A wish one couldn't make on snowflakes…
To be continued…
