“Wait.”
Nathan paused, then sat down again when she patted the piano bench next to her wheelchair. Abby took his hand, turning it over, tracing the outline, measuring her palm in his. He observed her frail movements in silence. When did she get this sick? It seemed to happen so fast. It hurt to watch.
She sniffed. Nathan turned to her, suddenly realizing that she was crying, and bent to look at her face. “What is it?”
She lifted her head. A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto his hand. “Just--just thank you. You’ve been with me since the doctor said I had three months. Now for the past five, you’ve given me the greatest gift I could ask for. Even as I’ve gotten sicker and weaker” --her voice caught-- “you’ve never left me. You have made my last months something beautiful. Something one could never forget. Maybe I’ll be able to thank you better on the other side, I don’t know, but for now--” she clutched his hand-- “promise me that after I’m gone and before we meet again, you won’t--you won’t ever forget--” Her coughing interrupted.
Nathan reached over to touch her arm. “No,” he whispered, “I won’t promise. Because I know that no matter what, you won’t ever leave my thoughts. I could never forget you, even if I wanted to. You changed my life; you stole my heart, and I won’t ever get it back. I…”
Abby sobbed. Wrapping his arms around her, he sniffed back his tears and finished. “I love you. That’s all I can say.”
Silence overpowered words as they sat that way. Time stood still. Two young people, united in sorrow. The bond they formed then was never to be broken.
Slowly, Abby moved to look into his face. Their shining eyes met and held for a bittersweet moment. Then he tilted his head toward hers.
It was not a kiss of romance. It was one of love. A promise to remember and cherish. They wanted it to never end.
Nathan finally stood, still holding her trembling hand. She was too weak to rise with him, but she held on to him as if she would never let go. Their hearts touched as they looked into each other’s eyes. They bid a silent farewell, neither wishing to say the words that meant goodbye. Then he turned and was gone.
He never saw her eyes again. The next day, he sat in a chair by her hospital bed, holding her limp and lifeless hand. Her eyes never opened, but he remembered. And though he hadn’t promised, he never forgot. She lived in his heart and thoughts for a lifetime. He spoke to her often, but he never said goodbye.
Years later, he lay weakly as an old man, uttering a few final words. Not only did they say a last adieu to those around him, but they also greeted the one for whom he had waited for so long. He slipped beyond this mortal world and into the arms of she who whispered, “thank you,” once again.
