The smells of antiseptic, alcohol and cleaning supplies filled my senses as Grayson and I made our way down the corridor, heading towards ICU. I always hated the smell; like they were trying to mask another scent, something so ominous it took bleach and ammonia to cover up. But it was still there, it lingered in doorways, on passing doctor’s scrubs, in the waiting room with the anxious loved ones. Death. I wondered if I was the only one that could pick it up. Was it only those who had been jaded by the very thing itself; those that had loved strongly and lost? Rather it be a parent, a child, a best friend or a spouse. Had the doctor’s become so immune it was like second nature to them?

Those questions, and more, plagued my mind and tried to distract me from what was about to occur. But I was still nervous. My palms were sweaty, my heart was pounding hard against my ribcage and my chest was heaving in short, quick breaths. It was uncanny to feel this way, but having to come face to face with a past I was trying so hard to leave behind before I’m ready for it, was close to giving me an anxiety attack. Why oh why hadn’t Dianna come with me?

“Morgan? Are you okay?”

Grayson spoke from beside me and I looked to him, a heavy weight in my stomach. “Just nervous.”

He reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

My head nodded slightly. “I hope so.”

He watched me a moment before turning and pushing the button located next to the secured doors that led into the ICU. They kept it secured and monitored with video camera, only allowing family members and close friends in to see the patients. In order to gain access, you had to be put on a list and check in at the nurse’s station.

I was new, but they were familiar with Grayson and we were buzzed in through the doors. I signed my name on the check-in sheet and Grayson followed suit.

“My goodness, you have got to be Miriam Huntley’s daughter,” A plump, middle aged woman with tight dark haired curls and thin wire framed glasses perched on her nose said, looking up from her computer. She wore a pair of scrubs with little Snoopies dotting them and her name tag read Nurse Clayton.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You look just like your mother.” She shook her head and pushed her glasses farther up her nose, peering at me through them. “Yes, you sure do. And I’ve only known her a few hours.”

I looked to my brother.

“Um, yes Ma’am; this is my sister.” Grayson slipped his arm around me and rested it on my shoulders. “I just picked her up from the airport.”

“Ooh, where’d you fly in from, Honey?”

“California.”

“California? My goodness, that’s a long ways away.”

“Yeah, it was a long flight, I’m pretty tired.”

“Ooh,” she sat a little straighter, “I won’t keep you. Go on in.” With a wave, she motioned towards the doors of the different rooms that lined the hallway.

“Um, thank you…” I nodded and reached up, tucking some hair behind my ear. Maybe I should just wait out here, Grayson could go in and bid them goodnight then we could leave. And I could go to a hotel. I knew I wasn’t ready to face my mother yet. Just thinking about it made me a ball of nerves.

“Morgan?”

I blinked and looked over to find my brother standing outside of a door, looking at me like he wasn’t too sure what to make of me.

“Oh, sorry.” I scurried to his side, tugging on the hem of my shirt.

He studied me carefully. “Are you sure you want to go in here?”

I didn’t think I did; but did I have a choice? Though before I could voice that thought, the door was pulled open from the inside and my mother appeared in the doorway.

“Morgan…” She spoke my name out in a tone just above a whisper.

I felt my heart leap into my throat as our eyes met. She was still beautiful with her blonde hair and blue eyes and in that moment I realized that we did look alike. She hadn’t changed drastically in the 18 months since I’d last seen her, except that at the moment her hair was falling from the clasp keeping it in place and her eyes looked exhausted. The situation with my grandfather was really taking its toll on her. I felt that pull on me and tears began to well in my eyes. “Hi, Mama.”

“Oh, Sweetheart.” and then she was engulfing me in a hug; tight and secure and in a way only a mother could do.

That was all it took for the flood gates to open and the tears to flow freely. My arms wrapped around her and I held to her tight, pressing my face against her shoulder and just sobbing. I cried for her grief, for my grandfather’s pain, for having stayed away for so long, for the loss of my husband; for it all. And she just held me.

Finally, she pulled back and smoothed a hand over my cheek, looking at me like she was memorizing my features and disbelieving that I was really there before her.

I sniffed and had to take a breath before I could speak, “I…I’m really here, Mama…” It came out in a tremble.

“I know, baby, and I’m so glad; so, so glad.” She cupped my face and kissed my forehead, her own eyes pooling with tears. “You look so beautiful.”

I gave a small laugh and stood right as she finally released me. “I’m a hot mess.”

“A hot, beautiful mess.” She wiped just under her eyes and looked me over. “Have you lost weight?”

“A little bit.”

“Honey…” she sighed and gave my hand a squeeze, shaking her head, “it doesn’t matter. You’re here, that’s all that counts.”

“That’s right,” Grayson finally spoke up. He peered around our mom and into the room. “How’s Poppy doing?”

Something flickered in her eyes and it matched the tone of her voice, “He’s not doing well.”

“Wha…um,” my fingers were fiddling with the hem of my shirt once more, “can they operate?”

“They aren’t sure.” Her shoulders sagged and she rubbed her forehead before straightening up again. “Would you like to see him?”

My eyes darted towards the room and I could feel my heart kicking it up a notch. “Yeah…”

“He doesn’t look like his usual self,” she warned before squeezing my hand and leading me into the room.

I had already figured that, but I wasn’t prepared for just how different he was. He lay there with his eyes closed, looking like he could quickly become lost in the bed that surrounded him. His skin was ashen with a slight, yellowish tinge around his eyes and mouth. He didn’t look anything like the man I remember; more like just a fragment of him. He was thin and frail and was attached to more wires and tubes then I could even figure what they were for. The only way I could tell he wasn’t already gone from this world was the slight rise and fall of the blanket that covered his chest.

Seeing him like that made my eyes sting and a sharp pain appear in my chest. “Ooh… ooh no…” The words slipped out and I brought a hand up, covering my mouth.

“I know, baby,” my mom wrapped her arm around my shoulders, “it’s hard.”

I just nodded, fearing my voice wouldn’t hold.

“Do they still have him sedated?” Grayson moved around to the other side of the bed.

“They do. They tried to bring him out of it earlier, but he was just in too much pain.”

I wanted to crumble to the floor and weep; my Poppy lay in the bed looking nothing like the strong, vibrant and loving man that he truly was. He looked like he was one step away from death; already fighting with it and trying to hold tight. It made my heart break and I moved to his side, reaching out and gripping his hand with both of mine. “Poppy…” I choked out.

My mom came up beside me, her hand smoothing on my back.

“Poppy…” I muttered again, lifting his hand and kissing the back of it. My vision swam and I held his frail hand to my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Poppy… I’m so sorry.”

Beside me, my mom slipped her arm around my waist.

“He…he doesn’t…this…” I couldn’t even formulate a sentence and had to squeeze my eyes shut tight to keep the tears from taking over.

“I know,” Her voice cracked.

I used one hand to wipe my face. “Why…did this happen?”

“I dunno, baby.” She rubbed my back in a soothing gesture.

“This isn’t fair!”

“I know it’s not.” My mom reached out and grabbed my hand. “I know it’s not.”

“Why does this keep happening to us?” My teary eyes searched her face for some kind of answer.

But she didn’t have one and I had to turn away, crossing the room and stopping at the window.

“Morgan.” I could hear her just behind me.

I wiped my cheeks with a hand and sniffed. “What?”

“I know this is hard; it’s hard for me too.”

I didn’t turn around.

“We just have to do what we can and pray for the best.”

My head dropped and I covered my eyes with a hand. I could feel the hot tears behind my lids threatening to escape and did my best to keep them at bay.

“Baby.” She touched my shoulder.

I shook my head, not wanting to hear any words of comfort.

“Would you like Grayson to take you back to the house?”

I finally turned to face her. “You..are… you coming home?”

“You should,” my brother spoke up before she had a chance to reply.

We both looked to him.

“You’ve been here all day, Mom. You need to go home and eat, take a shower…get some rest.”

“Grayson-”

He interrupted her, “You need a break from this place.”

“I can’t leave my father.”

“I’ll stay.”

That surprised me and my brows lifted.

I think it shocked our mother too because she closed her mouth, sizing him up. Finally, she gave a defeated sigh and nodded. “Alright.”

“Good. And I mean that when I say, get some rest.”

I watched as she made her way to the bed and took her father’s hand, leaning over some and speaking softly to his sleeping form. Suddenly, I turned to my brother. “My things are in your car.”

“You guys can take my car. I’ll bring Mom’s home.” He fished into his pocket for his keys.

I accepted them and then passed them to my mother after she hugged her son goodbye. He promised to call if anything changed and said he would be by in the morning. Then he gave me a friendly hug and rubbed my head, telling me to get some sleep myself. I nodded and bid my goodbyes before following my mother out of the room and towards the elevators.

We were relatively quiet as we made our way out of the hospital and across the parking lot to Grayson’s vehicle. Once inside, I settled back into the seat and my mom started the car, putting it into gear and pulling from the spot.

Neither of us spoke for the first few miles, both lost in our own thoughts. Finally, we slowed for a traffic light and my mom looked over to me.

“Thank you for coming.”

I was pulled from the dark reverie of the hospital room and turned to her. “Oh, you’re welcome.”

“I know how hard it was for you to do.”

A nod. “Yeah.”

“Your father is probably waiting up.”

My eyes drifted to the time on the dashboard and I realized it was a lot later than it felt; 9:38pm. Only 6:38 in California and I was still on Cali time; though I was exhausted from the long and emotional day. “Is he glad I’m here?”

She reached over and squeezed my arm. “He’s very glad.”

I had to smile at that. “I was worried you’d be upset.”

“Because you came home?”

“No,” I shook my head, “because it took me so long to do so.”

“Oh.” she pursed her lips and glanced towards the front again, staring at the bright red of the traffic light. “We don’t have to talk about that right now.”

But I knew it was coming eventually. “Right.”

“We’ll get home and get cleaned up then get some food. Are you hungry?”

“Not really. Are you?”

She chuckled low. “No.”

I nodded then stifled a yawn. “I’m pretty tired.”

“I bet you are.” The light changed to green and we accelerated through the intersection. “When we get back you can go on straight to bed; get some rest.”

I sent her a sideways glance. “Are you going to be able to get some sleep?”

She gave a heavy sigh and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I have some Ambien CR. I could give you one.”

“You have sleeping pills?” She looked to me with an arched brow.

I shrugged. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.” I wasn’t about to tell her about the nightmares.

“Oh,” she turned back to the road, “I just might take you up on that.”

I nodded and the rest of the ride was in silence, each of us lost again in our own thoughts.

Soon we pulled up to a white, two-story colonial with a vast yard and three-car garage. I had grown up in this house and my eyes darted up to the corner window that my old bedroom lay behind. A white trellis with winding rose bushes was directly beneath and I remembered the one summer my first serious boyfriend had convinced me to sneak out my window and climb down the trellis to meet him. I ended up with a sprained wrist and grounded for a week. We broke up soon after and my parents had to replace one of the rose bushes.

“Here we are,” My mother announced as she parked in front of the garage and pulled the keys from the ignition.

I glanced to her, feeling the nerves starting up again at the thought of seeing my father.

She watched me a moment then reached over and touched my cheek. “He is going to be happy to see you.”

“He won’t lecture me?”

“Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” she reached for her buckle, releasing it and pushing it from her shoulder, “but I won’t let him get too harsh.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I spoke the words with a grin, knowing she was teasing.

She chuckled and together we climbed from the car, collecting my luggage and heading up to the house.

My dad had the door open and was out on the porch wrapping me in a hug before I could even blink.

“Morgan!” His voice boomed and he lifted me from the ground, squeezing me tight.

“Uh, hi, Dad,” I managed out, feeling the air escaping my lungs from his hug.

“Neil, put her down you’re going to hurt her,” My mother lectured, “and you’re letting bugs into the house. Let’s get inside before any more mosquitoes do.”

He obliged and set me on my feet, firmly taking hold of my shoulders and leaning me back some to look me over. “Look at you, my beautiful daughter.” Then he directed me towards the front door. “Go on inside, I got the bags.”

I thanked him and stepped into the house, the familiar scents of being home filled me and I gave a sigh, surveying the scene and realizing not that much had changed. The foyer was the same, the décor and color on the walls, the Oriental rug across the wooden floor. It was all the same as it had been a year and a half ago.

My parents came in behind me and my dad lifted the luggage so he could carry it up the stairs. “I’ll take these upstairs; they’ll be in your old room. We’ve got it all set up for you.”

“Oh,” I looked to him, nodding my head and setting my tote to the side, “okay, thank you.”

He flashed a warm smile at me. “Anything for you, honey.”

I nodded and watched him go before turning to my mother. “He’s getting gray around the edges.” His chestnut brown hair was still full, but graying slightly around the ears.

She chuckled then slipped her arm around me and guided me towards the living room. “Yes, he is. He refuses to color it.”

“Makes him look more distinguished.” My eyes scanned the living room, noting they had gotten a new sectional and end tables.

“That’s what he says.” She sank down onto the new piece of furniture with me. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? When did you eat last?”

“Um, they fed us a meal on the plane.”

“Oh, okay.” She gave a nod and fiddled with the silver chain around her neck.

I watched her a moment then surveyed the room once more, cringing at the wedding portrait of myself and Hugh that my mother still had on the mantle.

She must have sensed it because she spoke up, “Oh, um, I…haven’t taken it down yet. You just…look so beautiful and I can’t bear to take it down.”

I nodded and smoothed my shirt. “It’s um…okay.”

“It’s hard, I know.” She reached over and squeezed my arm.

She really didn’t know, but I didn’t go there with her. “Yeah.”

“Alright, your bags are in your room,” My father announced as he entered into the living room.

I smiled at him. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, Princess.” He winked at me and sank down into an oversized chair. “How was your flight?”

“Long.” I sighed and slouched into the sofa, stretching my legs out. “I was seated next to this woman who would not shut up. She kept talking about all this stuff like she expected me to know the people and understand.”

My father laughed low. “Some people can talk to anyone about anything.”

“She was definitely one of those.”

That made my parents chuckle.

“So, Grayson called and let me know that he’s going to be staying the night with Poppy,” dad spoke, changing the subject to something a bit more pertinent to our family.

“Yes, he sent me home.”

My dad nodded and looked at my mother. “Good, you have been up since 3am and you’re running on fumes. You know I didn’t want you staying there all night, Sweetheart.”

I saw the look exchanged between my parents and took it as my cue to exit stage left. “Um, I’m just gonna get a glass of water.” I rose from the couch and tugged my shirt down some around my midriff. “Do either of you want anything?”

“No, thank you,” my mom replied and my dad shook his head, echoing her.

I gave a nod then strolled from the living room and down the hall into the kitchen. It looked the same as always and I selected a glass from the cabinet, filling it with ice and then water out of the door of the fridge.

I stood there a moment sipping the cold beverage and let my eyes wander the different photos and memos that had been stuck to the fridge; there was a note about a hair appointment for my mother, a message from my dad to her about where he was the other day while she was out, some pictures of them with a few close friends, one of me taken just after my honeymoon, one of my brother and Candace they used for a Christmas card last year and one of my mimi and poppy.

Seeing his smiling face and lively blue eyes made my throat close up and tears began filling my eyes. This could not be happening to him, or to us. Tomorrow I had to go see my mimi. I needed to just hug her and make sure she was being taken care of and didn’t need anything. I knew what it felt like to lose a husband; I could only imagine the grief she had to be going through after nearly 50 years of marriage and three children.

Giving a sigh, I wiped some fresh tears from my eyes then stood straight again. I think it was time to call it a night. I’d go bid goodnight to my parents then head on up to my room. I was exhausted and knew it was going to be an early morning. And I still wanted to call Alex.

Taking my glass with me, I headed back for the living room. So far things seemed to be going okay; I had made it past the first hurdle smoothly, but I was nowhere near the homestretch.