“It’s done.”
“He’s gone.”
As I lay on the operating table, these are the words that I
hear. First the doctor. Then Brian leans in and whispers to me the fate of our
smallest son. He wipes away the tears from my eyes and from around my oxygen
mask.
The other heart beats are strong. Our two other boys look
fine. Our doctor saved them.
Relief and grief.
I had four hearts in me. One is now silent.
The fourth one
weeps without ceasing.
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