“Sabrina, Sabrina…”
Something cracked inside of me then, not forgiveness, but a softening of the hard shell I’d built around those memories.
I remembered the heavy snowfall from so long ago, the day my parents died, and the not-yet-twenty-year-old Colton who had held me tightly against his chest, tears falling into my hair as he promised me I wasn’t alone.
“As long as your brothers are here, Sabrina, you’ll always have a home.”
Looking back, years of memories seemed like a distant dream—both good and bad.
“I remember,” I said softly, not knowing if he could hear me. “I remember when you three took me sledding at Wolf Ridge. And how you threatened John Anderson after he pushed me down at school.
Colton’s eyes welled up with tears, and he tried to nod.
“I remember how you read to me when I was scared during thunderstorms,” I continued, the words flowing uncontrollably. “And how you taught me to drive, even though I crashed your new car into that fence.”
The nurse hovered nearby, clearly concerned by the numbers on the monitor, but unwilling to interrupt what appeared to be a final conversation. His face had turned ashen grey, and his breathing had become increasingly laboured.
When Colton tried to reach out to touch me, his hand shook violently, he appeared to use up all of his strength, and the simple movement appeared to cause him immense pain.
I finally extended my hand and gently held his; his skin felt papery and cool, unlike the warm, strong hands that had once helped me up when I fell and ruffled my hair when I made him proud.
“I know,” I said, responding to all his unspoken apologies and the words he was too weak to say. “I know now.”
Then I said softly, “Hey, when you get to the other side, make sure to rest well, okay? “You were never good at taking breaks.”
In these final moments, the ghost of our old familial teasing is offered like an olive branch.
The smallest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth beneath the oxygen mask. Tears streamed silently down the corners of his eyes and into his gray-streaked hair.
Despite having thousands of words to say, an entire lifetime of explanations, regrets, and love to express, he only repeated those two words countless times, each repetition weaker than the last.
“Sabrina, Sabrina…”
His eyes never left my face, as if he was trying to memorise every feature; I wondered if he saw the little girl I used to be, the angry young woman I became, or the person I am now.
I watched as he closed his eyes for the final time, his hand becoming slack in mine.
The heart rate monitor’s steady beep became a continuous tone as the jagged line flattened into a long, endless straight line.
The nurse moved forward, checking vital signs and gently removing the oxygen mask. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “He’s gone.”
