I rushed to the hospital. The surgery was long and grueling, but it was successful. The girl survived. I should have felt relieved, but all I could think about was Mark.
As soon as I was done, I drove straight back to the motel. My hands trembled as I knocked on his door.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
A sinking feeling settled in my stomach as I asked the motel clerk to unlock the door.
When it opened, my heart shattered.
Mark was lying on the bed, his eyes closed, his face peaceful. He was gone.
I stood there, unable to move. I couldn’t believe he was gone.
I had promised to take him to the ocean. I had promised.
But I was too late.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered as tears streamed down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry for being late…”
***
I never got to take Mark to the ocean, but I ensured he was buried by the shore.
He’s gone from my life forever, but one thing he has taught me is to be kind. His kindness saved my life 30 years ago, and now, I carry it forward.
In every patient I heal, every stranger I help, and every problem I try to solve, I carry Mark’s kindness with me, hoping to give others the same compassion he once showed me.
