Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“No!” Amelia lunges for her. “No. No. No …” She rips the needle out of her hand, tossing it aside before pulling the IV from my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry.” She sobs, climbing onto my lap while the nurse presses a cotton ball to my arm.
Amelia cups my face, forehead against mine, while she falls to pieces. “We’ll go. We can go anywhere y-you want in the whole w-world.”
I close my eyes. My heart feels like it’s been permitted to beat again.
“Not l-like this …” Her trembling fingers caress my cheeks like I’m fragile. “I can’t do th-this. I can’t do life without you. Let’s go.” She lifts her head. “Let’s take Astrid and leave everything and everyone else behind.” The pad of her thumb brushes my lips. “I was trying to save myself.” Again, she rests her head on mine.
The nurse tapes the cotton to my arm and leaves us alone.
“I’m sorry, baby,” my wife whispers. “I can’t save myself if you’re gone. I’ll d-die right beside you.” She sniffles. “And Astrid needs us. Live for us. P-please.”
I wrap my arms around her. “Let’s go live.”
In less than twenty-four hours, we say goodbye to our family and a few close friends. The goodbye to my mom is the hardest because as much as I want to promise her that we’ll see each other again someday, I can’t.
The cancer is more advanced. I feel it.
I don’t know if having Amelia and Astrid with me will help or hinder my fight.
I’m in pain.
I’m weak.
And I’m just so exhausted.
Before we left for the cancer clinic, I’d made peace with dying. And I still feel that peace.
But if I’m going to die, I’m glad it will be someplace beautiful with my wife and daughter. It’s really all anyone could hope for when their time comes.
And this might be my time.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
THERE’S NOTHING EASIER THAN NOT EXISTING.
Scottie
Koen whistles a tune while we remove the ornaments from the tree.
Penelope sleeps on the sofa while Scrot stands guard.
My phone vibrates.
I pick it up from the floor by the plastic tub we bought to store the decorations.
Crash!
The glass ornament falls from my hand as I stare at the screen.
“Scottie?” Koen says my name, but it’s nothing but an echo.
Clank!
My phone hits the wood.
My knees give out as my gaze meets Koen’s, and I fold to the floor.
Hand over my mouth.
Lump in my throat.
Tears burning my eyes.
I can’t breathe …
Koen pulls me away from the glass and picks up my phone, staring at the message on my screen.
Price: Goodbye <3
EPILOGUE
Eighteen Months Later …
Amelia
“Do you miss him?” Astrid asks from our lounge chairs on the balcony while we drink our fresh-pressed juice. The first time I saw our eye-popping view of lush rainforests, majestic mountains, and epic waterfalls, I knew we would never leave, no matter Price’s fate.
“Of course, honey. But life goes on. We’ll keep his memories alive.”
It’s been a life-changing eighteen months atop this high knoll in the middle of a 1,000-acre nature reserve in Costa Rica’s Osa region. We have a breathtaking view of three valleys and Mount Chirripó. And because of its high elevation, there are no mosquitos. Nearly everything we eat is picked on the same day.
No TV.
No internet.
We had a private chef when we first arrived since I wasn’t prepared to care for Price and Astrid physically and emotionally during the transition. Those were the worst days of my life as a wife and a mother. I’d never felt so helpless. And I still wonder if seeing Price’s suffering has left a permanent mark on our daughter.
I hope not.
Astrid has friends in town whom she sees weekly. She’s been unschooled, reading a book a day, learning about life by living it, and I believe she’s thriving. It’s what Price imagined for her.
“I think he’s in Heaven. Or maybe he’s already been reincarnated. Do you believe in reincarnation?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know what to believe.” I tip my head back and close my eyes. I blame Price. His diagnosis changed me on every level. It shook me to my core. It made me question my faith, my blind trust in modern medicine, my need for control, and it challenged my biggest fear—death and losing the love of my life.
Price taught me to let go of that fear. He said, “There’s nothing easier than not existing.”
I no longer live with regret; it doesn’t serve me. But I struggled with my decisions for a long time. Why couldn’t I see what he needed after his first diagnosis?
I wanted him to compromise; he just wanted to live.
Why did my love turn into fear?
Why didn’t I trust his intuition to do what was best for him?
When he returned from Austin, why didn’t I embrace a new life with him instead of mourning and longing for the old one?