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“I wish I could always be here for you, but we both know that’s not possible.”

She begins to cry.

“I need you to promise you won’t visit all the time if I don’t know who you are,” I say. “I don’t want you to have hope when there isn’t any.”

“I can’t make that promise.” She sniffles.

“Well, you need to. And keep reminding your mother how much I love her and how wonderful our life was together.”

Maggie gets a tissue and blows her nose. “This is all too much for me, Dad,” she says.

“You’re strong, and when you’re not, lean on Jim.”

“What if I can’t handle it?”

“You’re not going to have a choice.”

She wraps her arms around me, and I know I’ve said enough.

CHAPTER 18

We didn’t see another good day from Dad afterward. In fact, he stopped recognizing my mom entirely and knew me only once. The doctor told us that once he took this turn, we shouldn’t expect many more lucid moments. I kept hearing my father’s voice in my head about not visiting anymore, but I wasn’t going to give up.

“You okay?” Jim asked as we walked into Dad’s room. Even if our marriage felt like it was falling apart, I was grateful that he’d come to support me today. “If it gets too much, we can leave,” he said.

We found Dad staring blankly at a wall. “Hi, Dad,” I said. He turned toward us but didn’t say anything. “Gia sends her love.” Silence again.

“It’s good to see you,” Jim said, placing his hand on Dad’s arm. Dad had always loved Jim and would greet him with a huge bear hug—a hug so tight Jim could barely breathe—and the two of them would end up laughing until Dad let go. Dad didn’t acknowledge Jim’s touch. Jim looked at me, sorrow in his eyes.

I became desperate to get my dad to say anything. “Have you had lunch, Dad? Have you seen Charlotte? Did you watchWheel of Fortunelast night?” I asked question after question and got no answers. I turned to Jim. “What am I doing?” I asked.

“Not giving up.”

“Is that crazy?”

“No. You love him.”

“It’s just so depressing. Let’s go,” I said. We crossed to the door, and as I reached for the handle, I heard Dad’s voice strong and clear and full of life.

“Your mother is not here.”

“What?” I said, turning quickly.

He looked me square in the eye, recognition in his eyes and his expression. “Your mother is not here,” he said again.

“No, Dad, she’s not,” I said, moving toward him. “But I’ll get her. I’ll call her right now.” I grabbed my phone and dialed. Shoot, voice mail. I left a message. “Mom, call me right away, or better yet, come to Dad’s place. He remembers you, and he wants to see you. Call me back.” I walked outside his room to see if I could find a nurse or a doctor to tell them Dad was lucid. Before I could find anyone, my phone rang. It was Jerry.

“Jerry, do you know where Mom is? Dad just asked for her,” I said excitedly. Jerry didn’t say anything, so I thought we had a bad connection. “Jerry, can you hear me?”

“Mom had a heart attack,” he said.

“What? Where is she? Is she okay?”

“She died on the way to the hospital a few minutes ago.”

CHAPTER 19

The scent of fresh grass and fertilizer filled the crisp morning air. It had been raining lightly, which would’ve made Mom happy. She believed the Victorian superstition that rain at a funeral procession was a good thing, because it meant the deceased was going to heaven. I didn’t get how anything could be good at a funeral.