A Walk Along the Beach(73)

“When you see her, you tell your mother I have always loved her. It’s taken me longer than it should have to learn to live without her. I know she’ll forgive me for being weak. Be sure and tell her I’m much better now.”

I remembered when we stood at Mom’s grave site and Harper mentioned how she’d felt Mom’s presence with her when she’d been close to death after she developed leukemia. It left me to wonder if she’d felt our mother at her side this time, and I suspected she did.

Harper’s smile widened ever so slightly. “Love you, Dad,” she whispered.

“Love you, Harper. So much.”

Her gaze shifted to me. Waiting. Wanting.

I felt that pull as if being drawn by a powerful magnet. Harper was waiting, looking for me to release her, to give her permission to surrender. As difficult as it would be for me to say the words, to set her free, I knew I had to do it.

As I struggled to find my voice, my mind flew back to the day we’d left Lucas and Chantelle’s engagement party and come to this hospital full of hope and spirit, determined to win this second battle. Determined to defeat this foe, claim victory, and walk away triumphant. In my mind I saw Harper leading the next Relay for Life. She would walk to encourage those facing this fight and show that with modern medicine and faith, they, too, would survive.

Instead, despite her valiant struggle, the hope, prayers, dreams, optimism, and determination, we had lost. My sister’s ravaged body barely resembled the woman she had once been. Her fighting spirit was gone, replaced with acceptance.

“You gave it your all,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “We both did.”

    “I’m so sorry,” Harper whispered, looking to me. “I wished with all my heart to live. You wanted it…I did, too.”

“Oh Harper, don’t be sorry. You tried.”

“You’re the best sister a girl could ever have.”

I smiled though my tears. “Ditto.”

“I never got that wedding, did I?” she said sadly. “I would have loved to have been a bride.” As an encouragement, I’d talked up all we would do when the time came for Harper to get married. We had it all set, the color theme, her dress, who her bridesmaids would be. She wanted me to be the maid of honor. Those dreams had helped pass the long hours when she’d first arrived at the hospital. Like everything else we saw for the future, it was for naught.

I knew she was thinking of the physician she had come to love: John Neal. In another time, another place, they would have made a perfect couple. How sad it was for Harper to have found love in the last weeks of her life. Cancer had robbed her of that and of the family she might have had.

I bit my lower lip, trying desperately to hold back my sobs. My sister’s eyes continued to hold mine. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” she said, her voice trembling. “How I wish I could be there to see it, to be the aunt to your children.”

I hadn’t given a thought to my own future. Until this moment it had been tied to Harper. Ever since she was born, the two of us had been linked together. She’d encouraged my relationship with Sean, but that relationship was over. I’d never told her and was glad I hadn’t.

“You’ll always be a part of me,” I assured her.

My heart was breaking. I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t supposed to be the way it ended. This shouldn’t be happening, and yet it was. There was nothing left for me to do but accept this horrible truth and let my sister go.

Even with all the wires and tubes attached to her, I took Harper’s hand and pressed it against my tearstained cheek.

    Lucas and Chantelle came into the room, almost silently, reverently, as though they didn’t know what to expect.

“Hey,” Lucas whispered, standing close to our father. Dad’s arm went around his son. Chantelle stood at my side.

“Hey,” Harper repeated, her voice growing weaker.

“Love you.”

“You…too.” Her eyes went over each one of us. “Love,” she whispered.

That was her last word.

Her eyes closed. I could actually feel her slipping away. Part of me wanted to grab her, hold her back, keep her with us. I swayed with the weight of my grief. Chantelle gripped me around the waist and kept me upright.

We stood together as a family, arms around one another, surrounding Harper. Her spirit was gone. Technology was all that was keeping her alive.

Dr. Carroll joined us, and when Harper breathed her last breath, he pronounced her dead, noting the time.

A wailing sound filled the room and I realized it came from me as I doubled over, sobbing with grief and pain and loss so profound it seemed impossible that a single being could hold up under it.

My sister was gone from us. Despite all the medical advancements. All the care. All the love. We lost.

The nurses came and disconnected all the devices and gave us a few minutes to say our goodbyes. Dad and I stood on one side of Harper while Lucas and Chantelle were on the other. No one spoke. None of us could find the words.

For my part, I couldn’t stop touching Harper’s face, soothing her as I had so often over the last few months.

Dad left the room and returned. “Pastor McDonald will be here shortly.”

I nodded. He’d come when we’d lost Mom, too.