I Took My Terminally Ill Daughter to See the Ocean to Fulfill Her Final Wish – Then the Hotel Manager Came to Our Room and Said, ‘There’s Something About This Trip You Don’t Know’
“Asked by whom?” I said.
The hotel manager set the box gently on the low table by the window.
“By a gentleman who called us not too long ago. He mailed the box himself, with very specific written instructions about when to bring it up.”
My heart pounded in my ears.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
My heart pounded in my ears.
The hotel manager cleared his throat.
“He told me his granddaughter needed to see the ocean, and that when you got here, I was to bring this to your room. But he insisted that Miss Sophie had to see the ocean first.”
I stared at the box.
“Dad…” I whispered. “What did you do?”
Sophie climbed onto her knees on the bed.
“Grandpa sent us something?”
He insisted that Miss Sophie had to see the ocean first.”
The hotel manager smiled at her with tenderness.
“He sent you a lot of somethings.”
I pulled the box closer.
It was polished dark wood, heavier looking than a shoebox, tied with a decorative ribbon.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “He was making plans this whole time. He… he knew he wouldn’t make it here with us.”
The realization hit me like a train.
I pulled the box closer.
I thought of Dad’s firm tone when he’d insisted on paying for this trip.
The doctors had said he died of a heart attack.
Had he known his heart was failing?
Would he really have kept something like that secret from me?
The answer was right in front of me, tied with a ribbon.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Would he really have kept something like that secret from me?
The hotel manager stepped back toward the door.
“I’ll leave you to it. Your father seemed like a good man, ma’am. He must have loved you both very much.”
“Thank you,” I managed.
He let himself out.
The door clicked shut.
“He must have loved you both very much.”
