"If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?"
- Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes
6
Dr. Cullen was the surgical resident at the hospital on duty with pediatrics the night my nephew and sister were brought in. He looked genuinely happy when Ben started screaming with tears. He was a good baby and never much of a crier. Dr. Cullen introduced himself and explained he was happy because, in this case, crying was good. Crying was alive.
They moved him from the ER to the pediatric ward where they put him in a crib, his tiny chest attached to monitors so they could keep watch of him overnight. I told my family I would stay, and the nurses moved a rocking chair right next to him so I could be close while he slept. Jasper took Alice and my father home to change and collect clean clothes for Ben and Em. His onesie had been discarded on the ER floor, covered in blood that had transferred from Emmett after he had tried in vain to get Rose out of the car. Em came and went as he waited for Rose to finish in surgery. He hovered outside the doors to the surgical rooms, wearing tracks into the linoleum as he tried to remain as close to his wife as possible.
Time deserted me as I watched my nephew. I couldn't shake the image of when I first saw him resting on Rose's chest in this very same hospital. The sight of his tiny lungs moving as they worked out how to take their first breaths. I couldn't believe that the little prince had very nearly taken his last eight short months later.
Some time in the early hours of the morning, Dr. Cullen came in to check on him, and then moved around to my side of the crib with something in his arms.
"Miss Swan? Sorry to bother you," he said quietly. His voice was kind and gentle. "Your sister is back in the room now; your brother-in-law is with her. We'd rather leave him be for a while" he said, standing in front of me. I didn't respond, so he continued. "These are your sister's belongings." He took the black plastic lid from underneath the box and put it on top.
"Don't close it!" I almost shouted at him. I took a breath, knowing I would have startled him with my outburst. "Her things shouldn't be shut away as if no one needs them anymore," I muttered, trying to explain myself. I sounded like a crazy person. I figured I was allowed a moment of crazy when my sister was somewhere in this hospital without lungs.
"It's okay," he said softly, "I understand."
Mid-morning a nurse came and said that they needed to take my sister away now. Dr. Cullen was doing his rounds at the time. He said that Ben should be cleared for discharge in an hour, but he'd sit with him while I was away. Downstairs, I watched as Charlie helped Emmett up from the chair where he had maintained vigil since Rose returned from her organ donation surgery. Her lungs had gone to a lady only six years older than her. She had four young children and had a disease that was diagnosed as terminal. She would have died within months without a lung transplant. It looks likely that your sister has saved a life. It was a gift that came out of our sorrow, but it still hurt. I wondered if I was selfish. Not the right life. I'd rather I still had Rose.
All Alice and I could manage was to cling to each other as we cried alone next to her bed. When the time came to walk out of that God-awful room, I found I didn't know how to say goodbye, so I didn't. How do you say goodbye to your big sister for the very last time?
That was another question I didn't have an answer for.