Within twenty-four hours, fifteen of my brothers had visited Amara. Brought her stuffed animals and books and toys. Made her an honorary member of the Defenders MC. Gave her a tiny leather vest with her name on it.
Amara’s room went from empty and sterile to filled with life. Filled with family.
She was never alone again.
Three months in, Amara started getting worse. The cancer was spreading faster than the doctors had predicted. She was in more pain. Sleeping more. Eating less.
One night I was sitting with her, reading Goodnight Moon for the hundredth time, when she stopped me.
“Daddy Mike, I need to tell you something.”
“What is it, baby girl?”
“I’m not scared anymore. I was really scared before. Scared of dying alone. Scared nobody would remember me. Scared I didn’t matter.” She squeezed my hand weakly. “But you made me not scared. You and all my uncles. You made me feel like I matter.”
“You matter more than anything in this world, Amara. You matter to me. You matter to all your uncles. You changed all of our lives.”
“Good,” she said. “Because you changed mine too. I got to have a daddy. I got to have a family. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
She smiled. “Forever?”
“Forever, baby girl.”Continue reading…
