Dear Tomorrow,

Would you mind waiting a while? This moment…it’s too precious, too special, too…important. I’ve been dreading it all this time. I’ve been hoping it wouldn’t come to this. But now that I am here, I don’t want this time to end. That’s a strange thought, isn’t it? Actually wanting to be in a hospital. I suppose it’s different depending on the circumstances…like the ones that I am living and breathing right now. I never thought that holding and caressing Savannah’s hand would mean any more than a way to show her I love her. Now as I squeeze her palm it means I’m pleading. Pleading to God not to take her home quite yet. She has so much more life to live. Her body may be weak, and her beautiful locks that I used to treasure may be absent, but she’s still here. She’s still alive. I know that doctors said she probably wouldn’t make it through the night, but I still have hope. I just know she can make it. But Tomorrow, just in case, please, please just wait a while longer. I know the clock says it’s 11:55, and you have a schedule that you usually must maintain, but do you think you could make an exception? Just once. For me? It’s the only thing I’ll ever ask for. I’ve started to feel her hand lose tension in mine, and now I’m really scared. One of the monitors by her bed has started to beep incessantly, and now a team of nurses and doctors are coming in as one ushers me out the door. I’m trying to peer through the window the team neglected to cover to see what’s going on as I look at my watch and see it is 11:59. Tomorrow, oh Tomorrow, please just wait! Don’t come yet! Don’t let her leave! I see the doctors with a defibrillator as a long steady tone hums from inside the door. They are trying and trying, but no steady rhythm of beeps is emerging. Tomorrow, I am now looking at my watch as I hear the nurse inside say: “Time of death 12:00 am.”