Organic chemistry was so boring. 

I walked into class, already dreading whatever we were about to do. This was my worst class, and I struggled to pay attention in it every time. Who knows, maybe this time would have been different. 

It’s a fairly sunny and beautiful day, so the kids aren’t depressed in the way that they usually are here. 

Things felt light, they felt easy today. 

I should’ve waited until after chemistry to check my phone. 

“Marlee, look at what I said in the groupchat,” my friend says. He has a smirk on his face, and I already know it’s going to be something funny. 

“Oooh, okay,” I say excitedly as I smile and pull out my phone. 

I saw his notification on my phone. Right behind it though, I saw a new group chat was created. 

It had my mom, my aunts, and my cousins. Already I was freaked out, half of my family doesn’t speak to the other half. The only reason they’d all be in a group chat together is if something bad happened. I immediately started freaking out. I read the first text in the chat, from my cousin Cassia. 

Tim is at Lankenau Hospital in the ICU. He is in stable but critical condition. He is not conscious. He has pneumonia that abruptly turned septic. He knew he was sick, he had a virtual appointment on Saturday. He coded 3 times… 

I never even got a chance to see what my friend said. 

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. There was a lot more to that text, but my mind went numb before I could finish reading it. There was only one thought in my head. I can’t be here anymore. 

As quickly as I walked in, I darted out of the room and ran back to my room. My mind was going a thousand miles an hour, this couldn’t actually be real, right? This is just a terrible dream. Timothy was a superhero in my eyes, for my entire life. I guess he was more human than I thought. 

Timothy was 21 years older than me. Completely opposite ends of the spectrum, he was the oldest grandchild and I was the youngest. He lived with us for 3 years while he got through his master’s program and worked for my dad’s construction company to pay off his debts. Growing up, he always made sure I was included and felt like one of the big kids. He was my first best friend. Almost every happy memory growing up has Timothy in it in some way. 

Back in my room, I grabbed the basics as quickly as I could: phone charger, car keys, wallet. I changed out of my uniform and immediately started speedwalking to my car. Hot tears flowed down my face, and I wanted nothing more than to sob about how unfair this was. 

But he’s Timothy right? He’ll be okay. He’s always been okay. He got clean years ago, he has to be okay. 

I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he wasn’t. 

I didn’t even wait for my Bluetooth to connect in the car like I usually do before I sped off. I had the route home memorized, all 268 miles of it. If I timed it right (and drove 20 over the speed limit), I could make it to Philadelphia by 7:00. 

I hadn’t even texted my parents that I was coming home. They were both in the family chat that was created, I’m sure they’d figure it out that once I saw it, I was coming home and there was no stopping me. Sure, I was supposed to stay focused on my schoolwork right now and be a good student, but my favorite person on this earth is in trouble. 

I think school can wait. 

Lankenau Hospital’s corridors are the only thing between me and Timothy right now. I was exhausted from driving, but that could wait. I needed to see my family. So, I made my way through the hallways and found them. There was a full waiting room for Timothy; my aunts, uncles, cousin, grandmother, and even Timothy’s professor who he worked with while getting his PhD. Everyone looked shocked that I was able to be there. Thankfully, traffic was on my side today and I was able to make it back a few minutes before 7:00, after breaking just about every traffic law in the book. I ran to my cousin Cassia, Timothy’s sister, and just hugged her for a long, long time. He was her older brother, her guidepost and home beacon for her entire life. He wasn’t a typical mean older brother; he always made sure she was included, and taken care of. That’s just who he was. 

“We all already went in to go see him,” Cassia said, her voice broken and weak. “He doesn’t look like himself at all. I don’t want you to remember him the way he is now.” I nodded and held her hand even tighter. 

Eleven minutes later, one of Timothy’s doctors came out. I knew, deep in my heart, what the news was going to be. The doctor held his head down, and before he could even explain anything, Cassia collapsed even further onto me. She knew exactly what the doctor was going to say. 

My entire family began to sob. I figured someone should at least hear the doctor out, so I looked at him with intent. 

“Unfortunately, Timothy did not survive. The sepsis was too far along when he came in, and his body was not strong enough to fight off the bacteria. I am so sorry for all of your losses.” He nodded his head deeply and walked back out. 

All I could think was that this could not be real. This cannot be happening. All I could do was stare at the gray floors and let the tears fall. Cassia squeezed my hands with a tight grasp and all I could do was limply put my arm around her and rub her shoulder. 

I had no idea how much time had passed, but my parents came. They were both working all day so they couldn’t get to their phones to see the messages. They knew that I was going to be there. They knew that nothing else mattered right now. Quiet sobs filled the cold room as my mother and dad came over to me. My dad sat next to me and my mother sat on the floor in between me and Cassia. For this small moment in time, all we had was each other; somehow it would be enough. 

Everyone in the waiting room knew the inevitable was going to happen. We would all have to leave at some point, and it would be time to come back to reality. The world would continue to spin and the sun was going to come up again tomorrow. People would still go to work, go to school, and this little bubble of grief would disappear. Everything in the world would be just the same, except for the fact that Timothy wouldn’t be there. 

The entire drive home was surreal. I felt like screaming and crying, but I could barely choke out a goodbye to my parents when I told them I’d see them at home. I had so much sadness in me but I had nowhere to put it. My heart felt like giving out, and I almost had to remind it to keep beating. I wanted to tell everyone I knew what just happened, but I also never wanted to speak to anyone again. I had never experienced grief like this, and it was all consuming. 

But there was nothing I could do right now, except keep my foot on the gas and remind my heart to just keep beating. 

Back at home, things were quiet. It was that surreal type of quiet that can drive people crazy. There were a lot of tears and family photos that my mother got from the basement. I had half a mind to call Timothy’s number until he picked up the phone, waiting for his voice to come over the other end of the line and tell me how this was all just a sick prank. 

As my mother rubbed my shoulder and I laid on her thigh, she said the words I knew she would say, but that I never wanted to hear. 

“You can’t come to the funeral. You can’t miss any more classes.” 

Yeah, right. We’ll see about that. 

The funeral was scheduled for November 13. It took a lot of arguing, but I was able to convince my mother to let me miss a few classes so that I could come home and say goodbye. I knew that I’d be able to wear her down eventually. 

The funeral was crowded. I guess that’s what happens when you die at 40, because everyone you know is still alive. The room was filled to the brim with friends, family, colleagues, and acquaintances. That’s just the type of impact Timothy left on people. Meet him once, and you have a friend for life. 

As I listened to Cassia’s eulogy, I finally felt like it was setting in. This is real, Timothy is dead, and Cassia is now an only child. I cried almost uncontrollably, and my dad put his arm around my shoulders. I looked at the navy blue urn surrounded by the bouquet that my mother made, and I couldn’t even believe that Timothy was in there. He was so alive; the type of person that could make anyone laugh. But now he’s in a plastic bag, reduced to a pile of powdered flesh and bones. 

After the funeral, the drive to the airport was silent, save for some sobs my mother thought no one could hear. 

And now, in less than an hour I will be boarding a plane back to my life; Timothy will be spread through the Delaware Bay, our family will never be the same again, and life will go on, but I will always be waiting for my phone to ring with his name on the caller ID. 

I will always be waiting.