It�s always hard to choose. You want to do what�s best for them. They want to do what�s best for you. How are you supposed to decide? When it�s someone you love? How do you hang on and choose, instead of running away like you wish you could? Are you really that brave? Is anyone?
Marissa is nine years old. I love her more than I love myself, more than anything. She�s my little girl. I�ll always love her. How do you choose, when it�s not just someone you love, but someone you created? She�s my heart and soul.
It�s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But I can�t lose her. Not like this. She�s only a child. She doesn�t deserve this. No one does. It�s not fair.
I just want to run away. Away from the pain and the tears. I want to run away from my daughter because I love her too much to stand by and watch her and choose. My baby, so full of life and smiles and happiness. My little girl, my everything.
I can remember the last time we were together, before all this. Before I found out how it feels to have a broken heart. It was windy, the windiest day we�d had all year. Marissa woke up early, jumping around and giggling in her flannelette pajamas. She loved the wind. She said it made her want to fly away.
She found her yellow kite in the hall cupboard and begged to be taken to the park. I couldn�t say no. She skipped the entire way to the park, no pauses, no stops. She wasn�t tired. All she could think about was the wind.
She let the kite out the minute we got there. It snapped and danced in the wind, as it soared high above her head. I watched, hands in my pockets. All I ever wanted for my little girl was for her to be happy. I just wanted her to smile.
We stayed for three hours. She slowly wound the string around the reel and brought the kite back to land. It fought against her, straining to stay in the sky, to continue its dance. She didn�t want to come home and the kite seemed to be saying what she wouldn�t. She wasn�t tired. Not today.
The wind began to pick up. The kite tugged and pulled against her hands. I moved to take the reel but she shook her head. This was her kite. She didn�t want help. It spun in the air, mad pirouettes, like an out of control ballet dancer. The wind blew harder. The kite pulled, relentless. She gave in and let go.
�Fly away,� she shouted and the yellow kite drifted higher. �Fly away!�
We stood there watching, as it spun and dipped. It danced higher and further. I began to walk away, towards home, but she gripped my coat.
�Don�t go,� she said. �Not yet.�
We waited until the kite disappeared, still dancing. She turned to leave, then looked back, over the hills where the kite had gone.
�Fly away,� she whispered. We walked home slowly.
Now she lies here in this bed and breathes, slowly, evenly. Machines beep out the regular rhythm of her heart. My little girl, pale and lifeless. She is blank, no expression on her face, no smile, nothing. This isn�t the little girl who watched her kite dance on the wind.
How do I choose? What if I�m wrong? Decisions are always hard. Love makes it harder, distorts things and changes them. I love my daughter. I don�t want to lose her. But that doesn�t make my choice any easier.
Her arms lay straight, next to her motionless body. Her hands are pale; the blue veins standing out like the lines of a map. She has long beautiful fingers, of a violinist or a pianist. She could have been anything she wanted to be. My little girl. I reach out and take her hand.
�Marissa,� My voice is loud in the quiet room, the only other sounds the beeping of the heart monitor and her slow even breathing. �I love you. I�ve loved you since the moment you were born. I loved you before that. You�re a part of me; a big part and I love you so much that it hurts. I can�t decide. How could I? You�re my little girl. I don�t ever want to lose you. I have two choices. I can say yes, and you�ll drift away. I�ll lose you. But you�ll be resting, peaceful. No more drugs, no more pain. You�ll be able to run around and play. You won�t be sick anymore. I can say no and you�ll stay here, sleeping. I don�t know if you�ll wake up. If I say no and you don�t, it�s my fault. If I say yes and then find out that you would have been okay, then it�s my fault. Both sides, both choices are so big. What can I do?�
She squeezes my hand. I look down, my mouth open in shock. �Marissa?� I murmur her name, watching her face.
Her eyes flicker open. She smiles, ever so slightly. �I love you Daddy, but it hurts.� She breathes in, raggedly. �Everything hurts. It�s not your fault. Let me fly away.�
Tears run down my cheeks. Her eyes close and she slips back into unconsciousness without a sound. I�ve made my decision.
I watch her until the doctor walks in. I look up into her face and make no effort to stem my tears.
The doctor leans over the bed, checking Marissa�s vital signs. �Mr. Felton, I have some bad news. Your daughter�s condition seems to be deteriorating. She has been here for three weeks. I�m afraid that there�s only a very slight chance that Marissa will get better.�
�I�ve made my decision.� I look at my little girl and know that I�m doing the right thing. �Let her go.�
The doctor nods. She faces the equipment and turns off the switch that controls Marissa�s life support system.
My little girl stops breathing five hours and forty-seven minutes later. I sit by her bed, and watch her inhale that last fraction of air. Her face is calm, her lips slightly parted.
She takes in her last breath and says goodbye.
�Fly away baby,� I whisper in the silent room. �Fly away.�