Epilogue
“I’ll take care of them, my love. I’ll be with you soon.”
The older gentleman strains to kiss the lips of his beloved wife one last time. His fingers tremble as he removes a fallen, translucent curl from lingering too close to her eye. He breathes in her scent, holding his breath, as if he could capture her essence for a little while longer.
The man cannot remember when his oldest daughter placed her hand on his shoulder, only now realizing as Sofia’s hand tightens in an acknowledgment of his words. The room is filled with silent expectation as the heart monitor has long since been removed. There is no need at this point.
Matteo Patrillo sits in the hospital room, counting heartbeats instead of minutes, measuring breaths instead of years, as his love lies prone in the bed beside his wheelchair. The room itself is familiar, as he worked at this very hospital for most of his adult life. The older man is quite nostalgic in his surroundings, feeling comforted by the building during such a time as this, as if the walls were holding his family in a protective embrace for one final moment before his world drifts away.
Matteo has lived an ordinary life, one shared with his best friend and wife, Natalie. He faces his end with dignity, he holds no regrets and little doubts. Matteo has lived, really lived, and greatest of all, he has loved. Matteo has loved in a way most people are ever fortunate enough to feel love, and against all odds, this woman chose to love him back. Their love was fraught with many obstacles, adversity, and people of whom one might call enemies. The pair had spent too many years separated by such things, such people, but they found their way back to one another eventually.
Love was enough, the man thinks. Our love moved mountains and turned the tides. And now, not even death will keep us apart. Not for long.
The gentle rise and fall of Natalie’s chest are the only movements in the small hospital room. Matteo dares not look away, knowing their two daughters and son surround them. His grandchildren watch in silence, awaiting the inevitable.
“I will always love you.” He watches as she labours to breathe, content in the knowledge that her pain will be over soon. “I will wait for your call.”
His worn hand finds hers folded in the blankets as he waits, watching— listening, until the moment she lay still.
