I Took My Terminally Ill Daughter to See the Ocean to Fulfill Her Final Wish β Then the Hotel Manager Came to Our Room and Said, ‘There’s Something About This Trip You Don’t Know’
He squeezed my shoulder.
For a long moment, we listened to the beeping monitors that had become the soundtrack of our lives.
“She’s a fighter, that one,”
“You’re not alone in this,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“I know I have you, Dad.”
“You have more than me. You just can’t see it yet.”
I didn’t understand what he meant.
At the time, I thought he was just saying it to make me feel better.
“You’re not alone in this,”
The next morning, Sophie held my hand and looked at me with big, serious eyes.
“Mama,” she said. “Grandpa told me the ocean is bigger than a hundred hospitals.”
“It is, sweetheart. It really is.”
“And you can smell it?”
I nodded and laughed through the tears gathering in my eyes.
“Grandpa said it’s loud, too.”
“And you can smell it?”
She was quiet for a moment.π Read the Full Story
She was thinking hard, the way only six-year-olds can.
Then she turned her head toward the window, where a strip of gray sky sat between the buildings.
“I wish I could see the ocean myself someday. Just once.”
Someone cleared their throat behind me.
She was thinking hard.
Dad stood in the doorway.
He didn’t say anything then, but his eyes met mine.
I saw him make some silent promise I couldn’t yet read.
“We’ll figure something out, baby,” I whispered into her hair. “I promise.”
I didn’t know how.
I didn’t know when.
“I promise.”