Tony was tired, so we went upstairs to lie down for an afternoon nap. He snuggled underneath the quilt on his bed, and we stared at the large windows, which featured a mesmerizing display of snow falling and swirling about like it never intended to stop.
Tony eventually closed his eyes and fell asleep, and I watched him, my heart heavy as I remembered Noah’s last days, most of which I’d spent lying next to him as he slept a morphine-induced sleep. He’d run out of options and time, deformed organs inside his body unable to cope with the demands being made on them by puberty and a growth spurt, but he held on, day after day. He had tried to say goodbye, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I kept telling him he was going to make it, that everything was going to be all right.
But of course, I was wro
