Kiro's Emily
Page 21
I was given another miracle. She held on. Through five years in a coma, she didn’t stop fighting. Her eyes opened up, and although there is a vacancy in them now where my Emmy’s light used to be, she’s in there. Her soul, her heart, the way she loves me are still inside her.
For years, I fell apart after Emily’s accident. I lost touch with life. Drugs and alcohol became my crutch. My daughter was raised by my wife’s mother. I wasn’t able to be a father. I was hardly making it as a human being.
Now, twenty years later, I sit beside my wife, her soft, fragile hand in mine. We look out over the lake, and I tell her stories of our past. I remind her how much I love her. And I remind her that I will love her in the next life, too. She may no longer be able to speak, and her body may no longer work the way it once did, but inside is my Emmy. She remembers all our adventures together. She knows that for a short time, we had it all.
The knock on the door behind us makes me smile. They’re here.
“We have visitors, Emmy. Our granddaughter is here to see us. Are you ready? She looks so much like Harlow did.”
I can see what I believe is a smile trying to touch her lips. I press a kiss to her cheek and hold her face in my hands. This woman is my salvation. She is my anchor in this world. “My angel,” I whisper to her, reminding her who she is to me. Then the door opens, and our daughter walks in holding a small pink bundle in her arms.
For years, I fell apart after Emily’s accident. I lost touch with life. Drugs and alcohol became my crutch. My daughter was raised by my wife’s mother. I wasn’t able to be a father. I was hardly making it as a human being.
Now, twenty years later, I sit beside my wife, her soft, fragile hand in mine. We look out over the lake, and I tell her stories of our past. I remind her how much I love her. And I remind her that I will love her in the next life, too. She may no longer be able to speak, and her body may no longer work the way it once did, but inside is my Emmy. She remembers all our adventures together. She knows that for a short time, we had it all.
The knock on the door behind us makes me smile. They’re here.
“We have visitors, Emmy. Our granddaughter is here to see us. Are you ready? She looks so much like Harlow did.”
I can see what I believe is a smile trying to touch her lips. I press a kiss to her cheek and hold her face in my hands. This woman is my salvation. She is my anchor in this world. “My angel,” I whisper to her, reminding her who she is to me. Then the door opens, and our daughter walks in holding a small pink bundle in her arms.
