Nicholas Sparks - The Last Song

With Galadriel’s help, it took less than an hour to dismantle her father’s work. She didn’t care about the mess they left in the living room; the only thing she could think about was the time her father had left and what she still needed to do for him. When the last piece of plywood was ripped away, Galadriel turned to her, sweating and breathless.

“Go pick up your dad. I’ll clean up. And I’ll help you bring him in when you get back.”

She drove even faster on the way back to the hospital. Before she had left the hospital, she’d met with her dad’s doctor and explained what she planned to do. With the attending nurse’s help, she’d raced through the release forms the hospital required; when she called the hospital from the car, she paged the same nurse and asked her to have her dad waiting downstairs in a wheelchair.

The car’s tires squealed as she turned in to the hospital parking lot. She followed the lane toward the emergency room entrance and saw immediately that the nurse had been good to her word.

Ronnie and the nurse helped her dad into the car, and she was back on the road within minutes. Her dad seemed more alert than he’d been in the hospital room, but she knew that could change at any time. She needed to get him home before it was too late. As she drove the streets of a town she’d eventually come to think of as her own, she felt a rush of fear and hope. It all seemed so simple, so clear now. When she reached the house, Galadriel was waiting for her. Galadriel had moved the couch into position, and together they helped her father recline on it.

Despite his condition, it seemed to dawn on him what Ronnie had done. Ever so gradually, she saw his grimace replaced by an expression of wonder. As he stared at the piano standing exposed in the alcove, she knew she had done the right thing. Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek.

“I finished your song,” she said. “Our last song. And I want to play it for you.”

Life, he realized, was much like a song.

In the beginning there is mystery, in the end there is confirmation, but it’s in the middle where all the emotion resides to make the whole thing worthwhile.

For the first time in months, he felt no pain at all; for the first time in years, he knew his questions had answers. As he listened to the song that Ronnie had finished, the song that Ronnie had perfected, he closed his eyes in the knowledge that his search for God’s presence had been fulfilled.

He finally understood that God’s presence was everywhere, at all times, and was experienced by everyone at one time or another. It had been with him in the workshop as he’d labored over the window with Jonah; it had been present in the weeks he’d spent with Ronnie. It was present here and now as his daughter played their song, the last song they would ever share. In retrospect, he wondered how he could have missed something so incredibly obvious.

God, he suddenly understood, was love in its purest form, and in these last months with his children, he had felt His touch as surely as he had heard the music spilling from Ronnie’s hands.

Her dad died less than a week later, in his sleep, with Ronnie on the floor next to him. Ronnie couldn’t bring herself to speak of the details. She knew her mom was waiting for her to finish; in the three hours she’d been talking, her mom had remained silent, much the way her dad always had. But the moments in which she watched her father draw his last breaths felt intensely private to her, and she knew she would never speak of them to anyone. Being at his side as he left this world was a gift that he had given her, and only her, and she would never forget how solemn and intimate it had felt.

Instead, she stared out at the freezing December rain and spoke of her last recital, the most important recital of her life.

“I played for him as long as I could, Mom. And I tried so hard to make it beautiful for him, because I knew how much it meant to him. But he was just so weak,” she whispered. “At the end, I’m not sure he could even hear me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering idly if she had any tears left to shed. There had been so many tears already.

Her mom opened her arms and beckoned to her. Her own tears shone bright in her eyes.

“I know he heard you, sweetheart. And I know it was beautiful.”

Ronnie gave herself over to her mother’s embrace, resting her head on her chest as she used to do when she was a child.

“Never forget how happy you and Jonah made him,” her mother murmured, stroking her hair.

“He made me happy, too,” she mused. “I learned so much from him. I just wish I had thought to tell him. That, and a million other things.” She shut her eyes. “But now it’s too late.”

“He knew,” her mom assured her. “He always knew.”

The funeral was a simple affair, held in the church that had recently been reopened. Her dad had asked to be cremated, and his wishes had been honored.

Pastor Harris gave the eulogy. It was short but brimming with authentic grief and love. He had loved her father like a son, and despite herself, Ronnie cried along with Jonah. She slipped her arm around him as he sobbed the bewildered cries of a child, and she tried not to think about how he would remember this loss, so early in life.

Only a handful of people had come to the service. She’d spotted Galadriel and Officer Pete as she’d walked in and had heard the church door open once or twice after she’d taken her seat, but other than that, the church was empty. She ached at the thought that so few people knew how special her dad had been or how much he’d meant to her.

After the service, she continued to sit in the pew with Jonah while Brian and her mom went outside to talk to Pastor Harris. The four of them were flying back to New York in just a few hours, and she knew she didn’t have much time.

Even so, she didn’t want to leave. The rain, pouring down all morning, had stopped, and the sky was beginning to clear. She had been praying for that, and she found herself staring at her father’s stained-glass window, willing the clouds to part.

And when they did, it was just as her father had described it. The sun flooded through the glass, splitting into hundreds of jewel-like prisms of glorious, richly colored light. The piano stood in a waterfall of brilliant color, and for a moment Ronnie pictured her father sitting at its keys, his face upturned to the light. It didn’t last long, but she squeezed Jonah’s hand in silent awe. Despite the weight of her grief, she smiled, knowing that Jonah was thinking the same thing.

“Hi, Daddy,” she whispered. “I knew you would come.”

When the light had faded, she said a silent good-bye and pulled herself to her feet. But when she turned around, she saw that she and Jonah weren’t alone in the church. Near the door, seated in the last pew, she saw Tom and Susan Blakelee.

She put her hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “Would you go outside and tell Mom and Brian that I’ll be right out? I have to talk to someone first.”

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his swollen eyes with a fist as he exited the church. Once he was gone, she started toward them, watching as they rose to greet her.

Surprising her, Susan was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Pastor Harris told us your father was a wonderful man.”

“Thank you,” she said. She looked from one of Will’s parents to the other and smiled. “I appreciate that you came. And I also want to thank you both for what you did for the church. It was really important to my dad.”

At her words, she saw Tom Blakelee glance away, and she knew she’d been right. “It was supposed to be anonymous,” he murmured.

“I know. And Pastor Harris didn’t tell me or my dad. But I guessed the truth when I saw you at the site. It was a beautiful thing, what you did.”

He nodded almost shyly, and she saw his eyes flicker to the window. He, too, had seen the light flood the church.

In the silence, Susan waved toward the door. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Are you ready?” her mom asked as soon as she exited the church. “We’re already running late.”

Ronnie barely heard her. Instead, she stared at Will. He was dressed in a black suit. His hair was longer, and her first thought was that it made him look older. He was talking to Galadriel, but as soon as he saw her, she watched him raise a finger, as if asking her to hold that thought.

“I need a few more minutes, okay?” she said without taking her eyes off Will.

She hadn’t expected him to come, hadn’t expected to see him ever again. She didn’t know what it meant, that he was here, and wasn’t sure whether to feel ecstatic or heartbroken or both. She took a step in his direction and stopped.

She couldn’t read his expression. As he started toward her, she recalled the way he’d seemed to glide through the sand the first time she’d ever seen him; she remembered their kiss on the boat dock the night of his sister’s wedding. And she heard again the words she’d said to him on the day they’d said good-bye. She was besieged by a storm of conflicting emotions-desire, regret, longing, fear, grief, love. There was so much to say, yet what could they really begin to say in this awkward setting and with so much time already passed?

“Hi.” If only I were telepathic, and you could read my mind.

“Hey,” he said. He seemed to be searching her face for something, but for what, she didn’t know.

He made no move toward her, nor did she reach out to him.

“You came,” she said, unable to keep the wonder out of her voice.

“I couldn’t stay away. And I’m sorry about your dad. He was… a great person.” For a moment, a shadow seemed to cross his face, and he added, “I’ll miss him.”