"Everything is going to be okay."

November 28th, 2002. Ten years. 3,650 days since I walked out of that hospital room. My brain can smell the pancakes wafting through the hospital's family kitchen as my mother made us all breakfast that morning. I remember sitting outside in the corridor laughing. The color in your cheeks was that of a pink rose. We teased Gabe relentlessly about his SoCal long hair. Seth stuck to your side like a mini me, watching your every move, admiring. Isaac just shook his head as we carried on. There was so much laughter. We took a few pictures. One, I keep to this day. I look at it and think where has the past decade gone? It was a perfect morning. Those fateful ten years ago.
I remember feeling anxious as time passed too quickly. Almost as if a storm was brewing, I felt everything begin to change. All of a sudden it was chaos. Those rose colored cheeks became a ghost. The pancakes you ate ended up in a pillow case. Soon, nurses were everywhere as they wheeled you back to your room. I felt panic hit as our perfect morning spun into a whirlwind. "No, no, no, no. I am leaving in 30 minutes. He was fine. He is fine. I can't get on a plane when he isn't fine," my brain kept saying. The following minutes were somewhat of a blur. My next memory was standing there, watching everyone else walk out of your room. Cement. My body was cement and couldn't move. I looked at you lying there, looking so weak and frail. A completely different person from the one laughing outside only minutes ago. I kept telling myself I couldn't leave. As you opened your tired eyes, you bore into my soul. You half smiled and then I knew no matter what was to come, everything would be okay. Some years I thought you may have said something or squeezed my hand but I remember it now. You said nothing and we stood feet apart. You looked at me with your quirky smile. I remember whispering "I love you" as I rushed from the room. If I didn't go then, I never would have. What felt like an eternity of standing there was only seconds as I saw the rest of my family only halfway down the hall. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I exhaled and tucked my arms around myself. I thought then the look you gave me was to give me strength to get on that plane and fly home, now I know it meant oh so much more. That look gave me the strength to get up and move on. It let me forgive myself for walking out of that room. I think maybe you knew. You knew I would have needed those extra seconds to say goodbye. You knew it would be the last. You somehow just knew. I didn't know the depth of that look until two months later when I heard Daddy's voice on the phone.
Some years have been easy, other ones hard, however one thing has remained the same; everything is okay. It hasn't always felt like it would be but 3,650 days after walking out of that room, everything is still okay. Hard? Yes. Sad? More days than not. I am okay. We are all...okay.