He roared, rushed in, and wrenched me off her. He caught Clarissa as she crumpled to the floor, pulling her into his arms.
"Are you okay? Is the baby hurt?"
Clarissa clutched her stomach, moaning.
"Phil, my stomach hurts so bad..."
"What if something happened to our baby..."
The color drained from his face. He scooped her up and bolted out of the room.
"Doctor!"
"Save my wife and baby!"
I turned back to the bed.
Grandma's chest had gone still.
The monitor flatlined. A single, unbroken tone filled the room.
Doctors and nurses rushed in, shouldering me aside. They began emergency resuscitation. The defibrillator fired once, twice, again, jolting Grandma's frail body. But nothing brought her back.
Half an hour later.
The doctor set down the paddles. Slowly, he pulled the white sheet up over Grandma's face.
"The patient shows no vital signs."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
I stared at him.
Sorry for my loss? How was I supposed to bear this loss?
She was the only family I had left.
I walked to her bedside, one step at a time, and sank to my knees.
The grief was so total, so absolute, that I couldn't cry. Not a single tear would come.
I knelt there for three hours.