Jake and Abby stood in the doorway of the surgical recovery room. A white curtain strung across part of the room obviously blocked the view of various machines and other equipment. There was a single bed in the room, surrounded by many small machines on carts. Wires led out of the machines, beepers beeped, and lights flashed.
They didn’t see any of that.
They only saw the little boy on the bed.
Their little boy.
Wyatt lay in the middle of the bed, a blanket pulled to his shoulders, his arms outside the blanket. Wires and tubes from the small machines were taped to his arms. The top of his head was wrapped in pristine white bandages.
Wyatt looked so peaceful.
Jake and Abby stepped into the room. For the first time he noticed a nurse off to one side monitoring all the various machines and equipment. She avoided eye contact with them and kept to the side of the room.
Dr. Merrot came in behind them. Matthew was behind the doctor but slipped past him and stood near Wyatt.
Abby and Jake approached Wyatt’s bed, and the boy’s eyelids fluttered. He turned his head slowly and looked at them.
“Mom.” He sounded like he was just waking up. He’d never been good with mornings — he needed to wake slowly or he’d be grouchy all day. Jake was stabbed by the thought.
“I’m right here,” Abby said. She sat on the bed and held his hand in both of hers. “I’m right here, you hold on.”
“Hey, guy,” Jake said, sitting next to his wife.
“Hi, Dad.”
“I love you,” Abby said. “I love you with all my heart.”
Wyatt smiled. “I love you too, Mom.”
Jake looked at his son then pointed to his eyes, then his heart, then at Wyatt.
“I love you too, Dad,” the boy said. “When can we go home? I don’t like it here.”
They didn’t know how to answer.
Dr. Merrot spoke. “You’re not ready just yet, young man. Your parents wanted to see you — they were bugging me so I had to bring them in.” He smiled warmly.
Wyatt nodded. It wasn’t clear how much he understood of what was going on.
“Is there anything you need?” Abby asked.
Wyatt didn’t answer.
“Wyatt?” Abby said, a pitch of urgency to her voice.
“Mom.” Wyatt’s voice was weak. His lips barely moved.
“Wyatt, honey,” Abby said very gently. Her eyes filled with tears.
Dr. Merrot came to stand at the foot of the bed.
“Wyatt?” Jake called, his eyes filling with tears.
“Wyatt, don’t,” Abby cried. “Not now. Don’t.” She was squeezing and wringing his hand in hers. “You mean everything. Everything.”
Jake leaned over the bed. He bent and kissed his son on the cheek. “I love you.”
Wyatt didn’t respond.
“Wyatt?” Abby asked softly.
Wyatt didn’t move.
“No,” Abby whispered. “Please God.”
Jake felt cold and numb.
“Wyatt,” Abby said sadly.
Wyatt didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Wyatt was gone.