The Story of a Dying Girl

When I started this story, I had simply written it with no real idea of where it would go. I had written some chapters, but I never thought it was good enough. But finally, I decided maybe someone out there will get a kick out of it.

And there was support and kind words and I feel so incredibly grateful for everyone who has supported me. While I'm still not completely sure of my skills, I feel like I have grown, both as a writer and in my confidence in my writing.

While I still doubt myself, I feel better about it, and I have you guys to thank for that.

Words can't explain how thankful for that I am.

I am writing a new story. The first chapter will be up soon.

Here we go. It's still not amazing, but here it is.

Chapter 33 (Epilogue):

The years flew by the way they seemingly do in everyone's life.

Sometimes it went by too fast, I couldn't even count to three before some months passed. Those times were filled with something so incredibly wonderful. But there was always something so upsetting about that passing of time, as it seemed to escape much too quickly.

Sometimes they went by too slow. It seemed like years for a day to pass, and there were days I just wanted to lie in bed the whole day, and hide from everything and everyone around me. Those were the times that I look back at in misery, when I feel some kind of weird pity for myself, the way that everyone occasionally does.

But throughout all those days, I had Emily.

And so really, nothing could be too bad.

She was there when I graduated from college, and I felt to proud I could die.

She was there when I would get sick, and drown myself in tissues and sorrow.

She was there when I got a shitty, soul-sucking job.

She was there when I quit that job.

She was there when I got my dream job as a journalist.

She was there for the bad days and the good days, and those days that nothing happened other than the passing of time and the slow countdown to the end of our lives, which, we had no clue whether there would be years left, or hours left, or just a minute.

And that was the way we lived our lives. No knowledge of when the end would be, just like everyone else, but that part didn't matter because I had her by my side, and I would rather live three months filled with Emily than 20 years without her.

I was 24 when I proposed. And that may be young, but I was already destined to be with her for the entirety of my life, so why not make it official?

I still can picture her face, lighting up so brilliantly and beautifully, as we stood on the rooftop of a building, watching a sunrise so wonderful.

Obviously, she said yes.

That would have been incredibly awkward for all parties involved had she rejected me.

So… whew.

The wedding was in my mum's backyard. It was small and nothing flashy or extreme, but it seemed to fit us perfectly. There was a beauty to it, one that resembled Emily.

Cook was my… best maid? Man maid? Man of honor?

Cook was my man of honor.

Katie was Emily's maid of honor… duh.

Paddy was the ring bearer, despite being a tad bit old for the role. Well, maybe a bit more than a tad bit.

Paddy had grown into a man, looking so incredibly similar to his brother. After I had gone to college, Paddy had moved in with my mum. And they cared for each other in a way that was so unique and special that it would be enough to even move that damn bus driver's heart.

I had gone to a college close by to Cook's, and ended up rooming with him in a shitty little apartment until college finished, and I moved in with Emily, who had also gone somewhere close by.

And Cook? Well Cook was as whipped as ever, and found himself moving in the other Fitch sister.

And I know that you may be reading this, saying to yourself that this is some fairytale bullshit, with all of us remaining close and everything so cheery, but I can assure you, this was not always the case.

Cook and Katie broke up for about a year when we were 22.

Fighting led to fractures in their relationship, and eventually those fractures became too big of cracks and then one day the fighting was gone and they had no will to go on.

So they ended it.

It was mutual, and there was something so calm and settled to it, but all at once so open and wounded that it would be enough to drive any relationship expert mad.

So for a year Cook tried to find someone else, some girl like Katie. And so he tried a few shags, with me going out to clubs with him, standing around, staring at my phone, texting Emily, wishing we could all just be on a double date rather than this mess.

But quickly it became clear: Katie had ruined him.

No longer could he have a quick shag and be content.

So he tried dating.

But she had ruined him in that department too.

The truth was that he couldn't have anyone who wasn't her.

Who wasn't Katie.

And the same could be said for Katie.

And so they reunited, and the fractures became solid, and they fought, but there was passion and love to it.

And Emily and me?

Well, we fought and we disagreed. We got mad and we yelled sometimes.

But neither of us has doubted for a second our love.

And so after we got married, Cook and Katie followed.

And before we knew it, we were really adults, with jobs and marriages and lives like all the adults you see on TV and in movies.

And before we knew it we were 26, approaching 27.

And before I knew it, Emily was pregnant.

It wasn't easy, I'll tell you that much, but I guess nothing worth it in life is easy, really.

But with Emily's health problems, it made the already difficult journey even harder.

But one of the things I love most about Emily is the way that when she settles her heart on something, it's settled, and it no longer becomes a question of will it happen, but a question of when will it happen, because believe me, it will happen.

And so finally, it was my 27th birthday when I was given the best gift of all time:

A little plastic stick with a plus sign staring back at me.

I looked right at her, tears forming in my eyes, watching as she simply nodded, tears streaming down her own face, while biting her lip softly.

Morning sickness and questions such as: "How fat do I look? Like a fucking whale, huh?!"

But all of that was worth it because nine months later, little Brie popped out, 7 pounds, 6 ounces, ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes, and blue eyes that looked exactly like my own.

And three months later, Christine was born. She had eyes just like Cook, and Katie's exact smile.

And out girls soon became friends, sleeping in the same crib, playing with the same toys, causing trouble together, just like Cook and I, or Katie and Emily.

And mum went wild. She had married my old teacher, an overweight Irish man names Kieran who had an affinity to potatoes and my mother.

But mum instantly spoiled Brie, giving her all the gifts that hippy grandmas give, and constantly stealing my little monster from me to spend the day together.

But the happiness I felt when she was born is like none other. A symbol of Emily and my love sealed forever in the most perfect creature to have ever walked the Earth, along with her mother.

And my life settled into a kind of stability I longed for as a child, and worshipped as an adult.

Work and a beautiful wife who only seemed to grow more beautiful with age. A daughter who I would break every single bone in my body for just to prevent her from getting a broken pinky. Cook and Katie, and a goddaughter who was Brie's partner in crime in almost all her actions.

When I was 29, Emily gave birth to Pete. Eyes exactly like his mum, so wonderful and warm, and a nose that someone practically copied and pasted from me. His mum practically squeezed the life out of me with the death grip she had on my hand.

And 2 months before that, AJ was born. Katie had practically cursed Cook out in the delivery room. I believe she said something about, "You bollockless little shit bag! I fucking blame you for all of this pain!"

And just like our daughter, Pete and AJ were best friends, poopy diapers and all.

And I was teaching my children how to ride bikes, and how to throw baseballs, and I was so happy in my life, that I could think of no one who could possibly be happy.

You may be wondering about Emily's cancer, and yes we had a couple of scares here and there, but she was healthy, and so that was just another thing to add to the list of reasons why I'm the luckiest person on this Earth.

And so now I'm 33, and Pete is four years old and Brie is six.

And we're on a camping trip.

"Pirate Petey…." That was my nickname for my son, who had gained a peculiar fondness for pirates.

"Mummy?"

"Come on."

He sat up and made his way out if the tent.

"Don't wake your mum."

"Mouse… wake up honey." Mouse was my nickname for my daughter.

Brie opened one sleepy eye.

"Mummy?"

"Yeah, come on, I wanna show you guys something. But let mumma sleep."

And so we hiked up a familiar pathway, the sound of leaves and rocks under our feet.

"Mummy, I tired," Pete said in a sleepy little voice.

I reached down and put him on my shoulders.

"Me too mummy. Me too!"

And so with a laugh, I picked up my daughter, one hand holding her, the other making sure Pete didn't fall off my shoulders

"It's so dark mummy, what are we waiting for?"

"Hold on sweetheart, it's almost here."

And we waited in silence for a few moments before I heard a cough behind me.

"Thought you'd leave me behind?" The same husky voice I had fallen in love with years ago asked.

I turned around.

"Thought you may want your beauty sleep, not that you would ever need it."

She kissed me.

"Gross!" Pete made a face.

I gently passed Brie off to Emily.

We all turned back to the sky.

And then the colors began to come, and they faded in together and formed something beautiful:

A sunrise.

With one arm around my wife, and our two kids watching like they had never seen something so amazing, I thought about my dad, and how all these years had passed, and we were almost nothing alike.

And I was proud of that. I was proud that I could say that I wasn't my father, and would never be.

Emily had wrapped Brie up in a jacket. The army jacket.

And looking at all of them, Pete in my arms now, I felt so much love in my heart that I figured that it couldn't possibly be healthy medical wise.

"Pete Campbell, Brie Campbell, and Emily Campbell."

They turned to me.

"You guys are all my sunrises."

It has been a hell of a journey!

Thanks again for everything.

My newest story will have its first chapter out soon!

Please let me know what you thought!

Alrighty then.