After a moment, he seemed to notice a change in my demeanor and attempted to ease the tension.
"Is Greyson upset? It's okay, that kid is easy to please. Just buy him a big Superman when I get back."
My heart ached at his perfunctory words. "No need."
He thought Greyson was easy to please, but in reality, my son just loved him more.
It had been six months.
Greyson slept holding his Superman toy, clutched it during his spinal tap, and even held onto it tightly in his last moments.
I could never forget the tears in his eyes when he comforted me, saying, "Mom, do you believe in light? Superman is light. As long as it's here, Dad is here too."
But that light, for both my son and me, had completely extinguished.
Before Shawn could say more, it was Jennifer's turn for her appointment, and she headed into the consultation room.
Seeing that I ignored him, Shawn sat down beside me and struck up a conversation. "Which examination room is Greyson in? Why hasn't she come out yet?"
I didn't want to talk to him at all.
The nurse called my name, asking if my hospital admission paperwork was ready.
I informed her that my mother had the documents and had gone to buy water, but she would be back soon.