I leaned closer.
“Tucker, I can't promise I'll be able to come every single day. Sometimes your doctors might want you to rest, and sometimes I might have responsibilities I can't change.”
He nodded carefully.
“But I can promise you this. I'm not going to disappear just because you're having a hard day.”
His eyes filled.
“Even if I throw up?”
“Even then.”
“Even if I cry?”
“Especially then.”
He considered the answer for a long moment.
Then he asked, “What if I get mad?”
I smiled.
“Buddy, I've known Ron for thirty years. You couldn't possibly be more difficult than him.”
Angie laughed through her tears.
Tucker smiled.
Then he reached toward me.
I moved closer, and he wrapped his little arms around my neck.
“Okay,” he whispered.
I held him gently.
And for the first time since Sarah died, I understood that being brave wasn't always about promising to win.
Sometimes it meant telling the truth when the truth was frightening, then staying close enough that the other person didn't have to face it alone.
Tucker became sleepy a few minutes later.
Angie helped him settle beneath his blanket while I moved toward the window.
When his eyes finally closed, she followed me into the hallway.
She looked exhausted.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I shook my head.
“I don't think I said much.”
“You said what he needed.”
I looked toward the closed hospital door.
“I wish I could've given him a better answer.”
Angie wiped her cheeks.
“So do I.”
We stood quietly for a moment.
Then she looked at me.
“Bear, I'm scared all the time.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“Even on good days, I'm waiting for something bad to happen. Sometimes he laughs, and instead of enjoying it, I start wondering how long it'll last.”
Her voice broke.
“I hate myself for that.”
I shook my head.
“Don't.”
She looked up.
“It's hard to stop.”
I considered her words.
Then I told her something I'd never admitted to another parent.
“When Sarah was getting treatment, I used to watch the clock during the good days.”
Angie stared.
“I'd count the hours she felt well. And every time she laughed, I'd think about how the evening might be worse.”
I looked toward the floor.
“I wasted so many moments trying to prepare myself for the next bad one.”
She took a shaky breath.
“What do we do?”
I looked through the small window in Tucker's door.
He was asleep, with Captain Chomp tucked beside him.
“I think we learn to take the good moments when they're given to us.”