Love Should Always Be Blind

New Year's day came and went. Hambone offered Frank and I to come over for a party. Frank politely declined. We figured we'd done enough partying for the break. Of course though, Hambone bitched at Frank to come. Frank flat out said no and that was that. We simply spent New Years in the park watching, me listening, to fireworks with mocha lattes. We brought blankets and everything to lay in the grass, bundled up together. Like good ole' Confucius said, “Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated”. Really ever since I'd read that line with Ray the day before Frankie's birthday, I'd taken it very much to heart. I was realizing just how true it was. People are always trying to make things extravagant, but in reality the most simple little things seem to be more special.

Spending all Winter Break in bed, would have seemed terrible before I'd met Frank. Now it's all I wanted to do. Just cuddle with him, feel his warm embrace, feel his strong yet soft skin on mine, smell his coffee and cigarette ridden breath brush over my face, hear his breathing next to me. All of it was so special and wonderful. I could just die happily like that. But unfortunately life doesn't work like that; so simply. Since New Years was over, the family would be back in later today and I was actually becoming nervous. How was I supposed to go back to acting 'normal' around Frank? How was I expected to not just kiss him constantly, or hold his hand? We were living in our own little bubble that was just about to pop only after two weeks.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Frank wondered, stroking a finger across my cheekbone. He could tell my discomfort and worrying as we lay in bed together, wrapped up in each other as was the new usual.

“I just don't want this to end.” I mumbled into his chest.

“Hey, nothing's ending. We're still going to be together, baby.” Frank tried to encourage. I still frowned though.

“I know but it's not going to be the same. It's going to be harder to hide. I don't want to go back to how things were.” I confessed, “But I'm not ready to tell my Mom either... I'm sorry.”

“Gee, don't be sorry. I understand.” Frank comforted, wrapping his arm tighter around my waist.

“It'll be okay, too. We'll still be together all the time, I promise.”

“Really?” I urged

“Really.” Frank repeated, a soft smile in his loving tone.

Sighing, since there was nothing else to say I merely cuddled into Frankie, savoring the feel of his soft skin on mine. Before too long I found myself waking up to the sound of commotion at the front door. That could only mean one thing. Mom. And Sarah, Matt, and David were back. Fuck me. Frank was gone too. Probably helping them all bring their suitcases in. Sighing deeply, I sat up. I wasn't in the mood at all to be dealing with this. I didn't feel like explaining how the holidays went. Or hearing about theirs. I just wanted to be with Frank. Knowing that wasn't an option, though, I began to dress quickly and head downstairs with the aid of my Cane. Before I could even get to the top of the stairs, I heard loud talking, then once I got to the bottom of the stairs, loud shouts of greeting directed towards me.

“Gerard!” Mom cried, her footsteps running to me and embracing me in a tight motherly hug.

“Hey, ma.” I hugged back less enthusiasticly. Mom then leaned back holding my shoulders at arms length.

“How was your Christmas? Are you feeling better? You look much better!” Mom ranted off; she sounded way too cheerful.

“It was good. And yeah I'm feeling much better.” I answered monotonously. “What about you?”

“Oh we had a great time! We skied and had a bonfire. I wish you could have been there honey.” Mom whined, sorrowfully. I shrugged.

“It's okay. There's always next Christmas.” I offered

“Gee!” Sarah cheered, cutting in and hugging me. I hugged her tightly, inhaling her smell of vanilla that I missed so much.

“Sarah Bear.” I murmured into her soft hair.

“I missed you kiddo.” She sighed, both of us still keeping a death grip onto each other.

“I missed you too. How was it?” I asked. Sarah pulled back, but still held my hand, leading us to take a seat on the couch.

“It was good. Typical Christmas, just add David.” Sarah brushed off nonchalant. “But I want to hear about your Christmas.” She whispered suggestively close to my ear. I blushed deeply.

“Sarah.” I whined, “Not here.” Sarah only giggled in reply, always loving to embarrass me.

“Hey Frank, can you come in here?” I heard David shout from somewhere in the room. Seconds later I could hear lazy footsteps enter the room.

“Yeah, why?” Frank muttered, walking to the couch to sit beside Sarah and I.

“David and I have something we want to tell you.” Mom piped in, I think taking a seat beside us on the fireplace mantle.

“Oh, God.” Frank groaned, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.

“Just wait a second.” David urged, continuing to stand. “Sarah and Matt already know since they came to the cabin. You two didn't so we got to fill you in.” He continued, putting emphasis on the 'you two didn't part. I wondered just how long he was going to be mad at Frank because of the whole gig situation...

“Anyways.” Frank sigh, wanting to get a move on.

“Anyways.” David mocked in a clipped tone, with his own sigh. “On Christmas morning I proposed to Susan to marry me...and she said yes.” Uhm. What?!

“What the fuck?” Frank bellowed

“Franklin, bite your tongue.” David chastised “Don't you dare talk to me like that! And don't you dare start a row over this.”

“You gotta be fuckin kidding me.” Frank laughed humorlessly “I think it's a little past that part.”

“Frank what is your problem?! Why can't you just be happy for me? Once. Just once. That's all I ask.” David shouted, sounding both frustrated and out of patients. My stomach was starting to twist in knots like I was going to puke. Letting out a whine, I covered my ears with my hands.

“I will when you treat me with respect! When you don't just drop all these bombs on me! You never fucking let me in on anything!” Frank yelled back.

“You sound like a child.” David scoffed.

“And you sound like an asshole.” Frank retorted.

“That's enough. Both of you.” Mom jumped in, sounding irritated.

I couldn't take it after that, though. All the shouting and anger in the room was poisoning my blood and making my stomach swoosh. Pressing my hands to my head, I jumped off the couch, trying to find a bathroom to throw up in. I couldn't help it, though. Everything was happening so fast. The room was spinning with angry voices and panic then as I emptied the contents of my stomach on the living room floor. Then nothing. Nothing but a black veil drawing over my vision. Well that went well.

*****

“Hey...he's waking.” Someone hushed. My head was pounding feeling like my brain was trying to escape my skull along with a putrid taste lingering in my mouth.

“Ugh.” I groaned, feeling like I was just beaten up in a boxing ring.

“Gee.” A second voice sounded from my right, stroking my cheek. Sarah.

“Mm. Sarah?” I croak while trying to sit up.

“Hey, just lie down a moment.” Frank sounded from my left, gentle coaxing to do as he'd asked.

“There you go.” he soothed, placing my head in his lap.

“Wh-what happened?” I blink rapidly, attempting to get my wits back.

“Because these fucking idiots can't keep their temper and-”

“Hey that's enough.” Mom but in, her voice coming from my the end of my feet. “Let's all just keep calm. Raising our voices only causes trouble.”

“Okay, okay.” Sarah reasons, “Why don't we just get you in bed, Gerard? I think you've been through enough for one day.”

“I'll help him upstairs.” Frank offered, shifting me around in order to scoop me up into his arms. I didn't do anything but sag in his arms though, although Frank held me tight.

“Just let him sleep. We'll figure this all out so Gerard doesn't have to suffer. Apparently you and your father can't hold one conversation without yelling.”

“I said sorry.” Frank muttered.

“Well sorry doesn't help the situation. You keep saying that but yet you still keep fighting.” Mom snapped. Frank huffed a deep hot exhalation upon my face, but said nothing. Slipping my eyes closed, I clutched onto Franks shirt as he made his way up the stairs. It didn't take too long before we made our way into my room. Laying me down gently, I was reluctant to let go.

“Frankie don't leave me.” I begged “Please.”

“I'll be right back, hon, I swear.” He promised, “I just have to talk with my dad. Trust me, I'd rather stay.” Frank chuckled humorlessly.

“Why'd you have to fight?” I whispered, reaching out and stroking his cheek bone. After about three or four strokes I felt a wetness. Tears.

“Oh Frankie.” I cooed

“I just fucking hate him.” He sniffled, trying to hold back the tears.

“No. No you don't. You feel like you do but you really don't” I reasoned gently, pulling Frank down to lie with me.

“I'm so sorry, Gee. I keep screwing up and hurting you.” Frank gulped, sobbing into my chest. I hushed him, telling him that all his statements weren't true, while rubbing his back. After a good ten minutes, I heard my bedroom door open. I tensed hoping it wasn't mom or David. I wouldn't have moved though, either way...

“Gee?” Sarah asked in a hushed tone. “They want Frank.” I only shook my head no, indicating that it wasn't a good time. Sarah left without an argument. Sniffling, Frank, pulled back.

“I'm sorry baby.” He croaked, his voice cracking from all his crying.

“No, Frankie. You didn't mean to.” I reasoned, caressing his tear streak'n face.

“I just can't stand my Dad. I just wish he'd talk to me, fill me in. Why doesn't he want to talk to me?” Frank wailed, causing my heart to break. My baby. I just wanted to suck all the pain away somehow; absorb it, burn it, anything.

“I don't know, honey. But he's crazy. He obviously doesn't realize what a wonderful, smart, caring, loving person you are. And you guys say I'm the blind one?” I said, trying to make him laugh. He only chuckled once, sad and aching.

“It still hurts, though.” He whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.” I replied, stroking his soft hair. “Sometimes people hurt us without even meaning to. They love us so much but they don't know how to show it.”

“I don't mean to hurt you. I promise I don't” Frank's voice cracked, a sign of another round of tears. I shushed him gently.

“I know, Frankie. And that's not what I mean. Baby I know you would never hurt me. I know.” I consoled. Frank whimpered and tightened his grip on my shirt.

“I'm sorry I'm a mess.” He sobbed.

“And I'm not?” I pointed out. Frank shrugged. “C'mon Frank. You know I'm more than difficult.” I reasoned.

“But you can't help being blind, Gerard.” Frank insisted, propping himself up on his elbow. “I can help my temper.”

“Can you though?” I reasoned, quirking an eyebrow. Frank sighed heavily.

“I don't know. Maybe I just need anger management.” He puffed.

“Oh Frankie. Don't be dramatic. Honey, it's just something we deal with. I deal with being blind. You just have to deal with your temper.” I tried, scooting closer to him.

“Gee.” Frank sighed again after a long pause, more in a rhetorical sense. “Why do you have to be so kind? I don't deserve it.”

“And what makes you think that?” I demanded, unable to hide my dumbfounded tone.

“Because!” Frank cried, sounding frustrated, “I don't. You have it way worse than I do. I don't deserve it. You deserve someone who can control themselves and not make you sick or upset every time they can't keep their fucking cool.”

“Frank Iero.” I said firm and clipped. Sitting up, I reached for his face to hold. “I want you to listen to me, and listen to me good. Just because people may 'have it worse' doesn't lessen your situation. Life's sorrows aren't a contest. So if someone was more happier than you, you shouldn't be aloud to be happy either? Frankie, baby. It's not about who's life sucks more, or who's been through more. It's about helping each other with whatever their going through. We have to help each other, if we're ever going to make it through this world. You hear me?” I finished. Frank nodded slowly and leaned in sealing his warm lip to mine. Kissing back, I wrapped my arms around his neck while Frank held one cheek and one hip. Pulling back after a few sweet kisses, it was my turn to sigh.

“I love you, Frankie. So so much.” I vowed.

“Gerard Way, you drive me crazy. I love you so much it hurts.”

*****

Frank did eventually go back downstairs to have a talk with David. They did fight. Frank did get upset but I just stayed in my room, for when he came back more upset than before. We decided to just sleep the day off. Mom got pizza for dinner and Sarah brought us up some. Speaking of Sarah, the next day once things cooled off around the house, I told her all about my winter break with Frankie, leaving us in fits of giggles and I a red face, flushed and blushed out. I was almost afraid I would be permanently warm on the inside and red on the outside...The last weekend we had til we went back to school, Mom made a Christmas dinner for all of us to eat together. She even made Frankie a vegetable pot pie for himself. Then we exchanged gifts. I got more paint supplies from Mom, such as blank canvases. A few DVD's on painting technics and documentaries on the greats like Salvador Dali and Van Gough. All audio of course. Sarah got me a Starbucks gift card and Matt bought me a Nirvana Vinyl he'd came across. They we're all very sweet and it was actually a nice way to end the break.

Going back to school sucked like I knew it would. I mean I loved Ray but I hated school like every other typical teenager I guess. Plus I couldn't get over the whole 'Mom and David getting engaged thing'. I was happy for Mom, I honestly was...but I dunno. I felt weird. Almost sad and sentimental about Dad. I was thinking about Dad a lot actually. But in a sad way. I think about Dad often; fondly and with happiness. Recently though, it was the exact opposite; I missed him. I tried not to let on about how I was feeling, however. Frank was already dealing with his own Dad and the engagement. I couldn't talk to Mom. It would only make her sad and guilty and I didn't want that. I wanted her to be happy. She deserved it. But memories- bad ones had been flooding my mind like a parasite, feeding and creating more to resurface. Like when Dad started getting sick...

I was only three when we found out Dad had contracted cancer. Lung cancer to be exact. He smoked like a 1920's gangster in New York. After his Doctors appointment, though, finally giving him the last final results, he didn't touch another cigarette ever again. I remember Mom cried so much. She only cried once, incidentally however, while Dad was alive. Or that I witnessed. And that was when Daddy told her. I wasn't in the room, of course, they did it privately. But I heard it. We all heard it. I think the whole neighborhood did. That's when I knew something was truly wrong. After Dad told Mom, they gathered all three of us kids into the living room for a family meeting. Sarah was six, I was three, and Matt only one. Just a baby, barely learning to walk.

Stepping into the living room, Mom's face was tear streak'n, eye puff and red. My stomach dropped in my stomach like when I fell off the monkey bars at the park. Sniffling, she patted the seat beside her, motioning for me to take a seat next to her. I sat beside her, with her arms wrapped around my shoulders, Matt in her lap, while Sarah sat in Dad's lap.

“So.” Dad began, gravely yet still brave. Dad was always brave and optimistic. “As you kids know, I've been going to doctor's a lot lately. Now they've done lots and lots of test to find out whats wrong. But unfortunately they've given Daddy some bad news.” Dad began, trying to make it as simple for us as possible and as little scary as possible.

“Are you sick? Do you gotta take some medicine?” I asked so naively, thinking the first thing that popped into my three year old brain. It didn't think about things like cancer or death.I didn't even know those existed until Dad got sick.

“I'm afraid it's more serious than that, Gee honey.” He said softly, offering me a mournful smile, tender and creating subtle lines in his cheeks. I frowned, but let him continue politely.

“You are right, though, Gee. I am sick. Very very sick. The doctors are going to give me medicine, too. But it's not the kind to make me better. Kinda just to keep me out of pain.”

“Pain?” I repeated, not understanding. Dad sighed.

“Yes, Gee. Like I said, I'm very very sick. I'm afraid Daddy's not going to get better.”

“Then what's going to happen?” Sarah wondered, a frown forming on her own little face, as she starred up at Dad.

“Well, we can deal with that when the time comes, but I'm going to have to continue to go to Doctors and take medicine. You're going to see me get sick sometimes, but I don't want you kids to worry about that. Just be good. Be good to each other and your mother. Alright?” He replied oh so vaguely. We nodded, not quite understanding. “Okay, I want to talk with you kids, individually. Why don't I start with you Sarah Bear?” Dad asked, smiling gently down at Sarah, giving he side a squeeze. She nodded and Mom took me and Matt out of the room.
Waiting in the dinning room with Mom, I sat beside her coloring. I don't really remember how long I had to wait. For a three year old it felt like forever, but it probably was only at the most fifteen minutes. I was very confused. I knew something was wrong, I just didn't know exactly what. Dad was sick. Okay. But there was more to it; I knew it from the knot in my stomach. I was scared too, even then. As Mom fed Matt a bottle of formula, Dad and Sarah emerged from the living room. Sarah had a few tears in her eyes; I was terrified by then. Sarah walked over to Mom, where Mom embraced her with her free hand the wasn't holding Matte.

“Gee? Come talk to me?” Dad asked. I nodded slowly and stood up, all thoughts of my Spiderman coloring book gone. Dad knelt down scooping me up and placing me on his hip. As we walked back into the living room, I popped my thumb into my mouth;something I had always done to calm myself when I was little. The habit faded around age five. Sitting down in his Easy chair, Dad placed me on his knee.

“So Gee.” He began breaking the silence, filling it with his warm voice, “How's my big boy? Are you okay?” He wondered of me, full of concern.

“I'm scared.” I whispered around my thumb, causing me to sound as if I had a lisp.

“Oh, baby.” He cooed, wrapping his arms around me and holding me to his chest. “Don't be scared. It's going to be okay.”

“I don't want you to hurt.” I whimpered, taking my thumb out of my mouth with a wet pop.

“It's going to be okay, honey.” Dad repeated trying to comfort me, stroking my black short hair.

“But how's it gonna be okay, if you're not gonna get better?” I sniffled into his chest. Dad exhaled loudly out his nose not knowing what to say to a three year old in such a situation.

“Oh my Gee. My son...” He cooed, rocking me, “You always were my sympathetic one.” He spoke more to himself than me. “I want you to not worry for now Gerard. Okay?” Dad ordered softly, pulling back to look at me. I stared back into his warm blue eyes, while he searched my hazel ones. I nodded after a moment of us studying one another.

“And I'm going to be honest with you, things aren't going to get any better from here on out. But I want you to be the brave Gee I know. I want you to still have fun and make your Mom and sister and baby brother laugh. I want you to make me smile just like usual. Do not worry. That's the last thing I want, alright?” Daddy asked of me. I nodded again, tears welling up in my eyes. And Dad was right. Even when I was three I felt others pain. Most of the times I didn't even understand why I felt the way I did. I just did. I was very in-tuned with others emotion. That was part of what made me the sensitive person I am today. I feel others emotion like reading a line off a book; word for word. Dad held me close, letting me cry out my sorrows. Afterwords we left the room together. Dad even talked to Matt one on one, the conversation I'm sure being just one sided and Matte gurgling.

The first couple of months didn't change much. Matt started to walk and hold himself up onto furniture. Sarah got on the honor roll at school. I turned four. And I did what Dad asked of me. I just was myself, making the family laugh and smile at my antics. However after about three months or so Dad showed the effects of his cancer more and more. More coughing fits, more fatigue, more time off work. Sarah turned Seven. Soon after about seven months he had to get an oxygen tank for whenever he couldn't catch his breath. I was getting more and more concerned too. More nightmares, more crying, more worrying. But I kept my promise for Daddy's sake. Mom was strong through the whole thing. For Dad and her children. Around the holidays Dad had officially stopped working and a nurse stayed at our home to watch over Dad when Mom couldn't. Dad had to be taken care of almost 24/7 and Mom had to work. He was so weak and frail. I was watching my father die right before my young and innocent eyes.
Matte turned two. He could talk his mouth off by then. He was the comic relief to our story. He did crazy goofy stuff to keep Dad smiling and entertained. I remember when I realized Matt probably wouldn't remember much of Dad I cried so hard, Mom came in my room from hearing my sobbing. She held me close, singing soft lullaby's to comfort me.

That was our last real Christmas with Dad. He sat in his Easy chair, watching us open up gifts, still joking and laughing with his young children. Mom sat on the arm of the chair, resting her hand on his shoulder, camera in hand. We were trying so desperately to take whatever we could from death. We wanted so badly to remember everything we could of Daddy. The gifts, the dinner, the laughter and cheer, the story telling of his own memories that would be lost forever once he'd died if we couldn't remember them. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to remember though. I was so afraid he'd be erased from my memory in time.

By February, the year mark of Dad's complete diagnosis, he was reduced to being bed ridden. He hated it too. I could tell, yet he never complained, not once. He hated not being able to move around on his own, he hated not getting to run around with his kids and pick them up and hold them. It was heartbreaking, so we all crawled into his lap instead. We brought books for him to read to us or vise versa and coloring books and crayons to draw in. On Valentines Day we all were taken to Grandma Way's house, that way Mom and Dad could have what was their last Valentines Day together. We made cookies with Grandma and watched cartoons and ate pancakes for dinner. Mom and Dad ate spaghetti and wine, well Dad had grape juice. Alcohol wasn't good for him anymore. He ate what he could too. His appetite was decreasing rapidly. I never knew what Mom got for Dad but I know Dad got Mom a necklace; a diamond heart on a silver chain. She still wears it to this day and tears up when recalling the story...I think that was the last good time in our life with Dad.

By April Dad was hardly eating, always having coughing attacks where he could hardly catch his breath, leaving him breathless. He was always on his oxygen tank by then, tubes up his nostrils, the air being transported artificially since his lungs couldn't do it for himself any longer. My fifth birthday was a bust. Mom and Dad got me a bike which was nice but Daddy was so sick, I couldn't help but want to just cry. We all went into Mom and Dad's room, Sarah, Matt and I climbing onto the bed to sit with Dad. Mom brought in a lit up cake with five shinning candles. They all sang Happy Birthday; even Dad managed to wheeze out the song. Sarah told me to make a wish. I wished for Dad to feel better, although I knew that wasn't possible. While we ate cake, Mom brought in the bike with a big red bow. I thanked them all, then snuggled into Dad's side. Later on Mom had Sarah and Matt leave the room. Dad then told me more stories of his life starting with his own fifth birthday. He said he could remember it clear as day. Grandma Way made him a lemon cake with vanilla frosting and Uncle Aaron a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. All his family came over and some friends of Dad and Uncle Aaron's from school. They opened presents together, with the help of Grandpa Way. They even got presents for each other. Dad got Uncle Aaron baseball trading cards. Uncle Aaron got Dad a Gee-eye Joe. It's one of my favorite memories of Dad even if he was very sick at the time.

In May, we had a similar birthday party for Sarah; she was turning eight. By August Dad ate through a feeding tube. We were all very scared. Even Matte could tell something was wrong. And even through none of us said it aloud, ever really, we knew Dad was dying and it was happening sooner than later. Daddy was withering away before my eyes. The strongest most caring man I knew; dying. I was so angry. Angry that God wouldn't make my Daddy better. We all took time off school. Our Dad was dying; the school understood. Sarah and I didn't even care if it ended up in summer school. We just wanted all the time with Dad we could get. Mom got paid time off; FMLA. Family Medical Leave Act. That way Mom had time with Dad too.
Halloween was depressing. We all dressed up for Dad to see. It made him smile though, and that's all that mattered to me. I was a mutant ninja turtle. Sarah was power ranger. Matt was a tiger. Mom took us trick-or-treating to allow Dad time to rest. Thanksgiving was even worse; Dad could neither sit at the dinning room table or eat the food. Instead Mom got us Jack-In-The-Box and we ate with Dad on his bed. Matte turned three in December. Dad was fighting; holding on by a thread but his will was so strong. He wanted to see Matte grow as long as he could. Christmas Day however we did nothing, not even presents, we all just laid with Dad watching Christmas movies. And we were okay with it. Even Matt who was only barely three. The day after Christmas, though Dad had a bad coughing fit and couldn't breath. He was rushed to the hospital and stayed there. New Years loomed over my head, because I knew it was going to be the year my Daddy died. Mom's birthday was on January third. Her last birthday she got to spend with her husband. I think he had someone arrange to send her flowers. It made her cry of course when she came home and saw a dozen red roses on the counter. She pressed one of them in a book to keep forever.

Incidentally on January fifth, Dad had us all visit him. He wanted to talk to each of us individually like the first time. Except this was our last time. Sarah went first, then me. I walked hesitantly into a white room full of quit beeping monitors and the pumping of an oxygen tank. Taking gentle steps, I climbed into the hospital bed to lay with my Dad. Wrapping his thin hands around me, hooked with IVS, I snuggled closer breathing in the clean scent of bleach on clothes.

“My Gerard...my artistic and caring boy.” Dad wheezed, squeezing his arms as tight as he could around me, which wasn't much at all.

“Daddy.” I croaked, my eyes immediately filling with tears, “Please don't go.” I ended in a whisper. Dad sniffled, crying himself.

“I wish I could stay honey, I do. But I can't.” He replied back, sounding out of breath and choked up at the same time. I just couldn't help it but I began to sob right into his hospital gown. Dad cried with me too though. I held him tight, never wanting to let go.

“I'm going to miss you Daddy.” I whimpered.

“I'm always going to be with you Gerard. I promise.” Dad vowed. I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. Leaning my head up I looked into my fathers tired, pale face.

“How?” I wondered.

“Well you'll have your memories. You and your brother and sister. You can share stories. Keep me alive in your hearts. I'll always be there. I'll always be watching over you baby. Just like a feeling, you feel the love...but you can't see it...With faith you feel it too but you can't grasp it physically..” Dad explained, panting by then end of his sentence.

“I'm mad at God.” I whispered after a long pause

“Oh, Gee. It's not God's fault.” He offered tenderly.

“But he won't make you better.” I insisted. Dad sighed.

“Gee, things happen for a reason. I want you to remember that. Everything. It's my time to go. It's not God's fault, baby. Please don't let this get in the way of your faith, okay? Be mad if you have to, but don't forget to forgive.” He strained to get out. I nodded trying to absorb this new information.

“I love you Dad.” I murmured, staring up at my father.

“I love you to Gee. So so much. My big boy. You're going to do great things, I just know it. And remember I'm always with you, okay Gerard?”Dad reminded, giving me another weak squeeze. I nodded again, new fresh tears coming into my eyes. I knew this was goodbye.

“Okay. I'm gonna think of you all the time, Daddy. I love you.” I repeated, feeling my chest ache and a lump form in my throat. Dad motioned for me to scoot up where he placed a soft loving kiss to my cheek. More tears feel as I pulled back.

“I love you too, my Gerard.” He croaked, tears pooling in his crystal blue eyes. I pecked Dads cheek myself, then descended down off the bed. I walked to the door slowly, wishing more than anything to slow down the time. Placing my hand on the handle, I turned around before opening it though. Dad was staring at me with love and admiration.

“I love you more.” I teased, offering a weak, tear stained smile. Dad chuckled, then coughed.

“I don't think that's possible.” He declared, making my lip tremble. I couldn't take it anymore, I turned around and left. That was the last conversation I had with my Dad. Once out the door, I collapsed into a sobbing mess, into Mom's arms. She comforted me, while Matt when in. Then Mom. Then we left, all of us in tears, too upset to eat dinner. And that night Daddy passed away peacefully in his sleep, while the rest of us were sleeping together in Mom's bed.

Notes

So here's some back story to Gerard's father. It was kinda really hard to write because my Dad was diagnosed with ALS in September. Which I know isn't cancer but it might as well be. So yeah, but I guess it made the POV more believable since this is pretty much the same things going through my mind right now.
Also fun fact. My oldest sisters name is Sarah and I call her Sarah Bear all the time. I named Gee's sister Sarah because that makes it easier for me to make their relationship.
And I'm in love with The Front Bottoms right now. They will save your soul I promise. Legit Tattoo Gun is my fav.