64. Marcus

She won't stop crying. The tiny pale bundle in my arms just screams and screams. I'm trying to remain calm. I'm trying to fix it, but the only thing she wants I can't give her. Nine and a half months of hearing Grace's heartbeat, her voice, feeling her movement, and now nothing.

She never even got to hold her.

I'd tried a pacifier, formula, changing her, rocking her, everything. The only way she will stop crying is if I sing the song Grace used to sing to her belly every night, the Elvis song Grace loved. The one that led her to make me promise we would name our daughter for it.

"....I can't help, falling in love…" I mumble to our daughter, hoping she will fall back asleep.

I stopped wiping the tears from my cheeks hours ago. The pain of losing Grace ripped me apart. The kids are the only thing keeping me together. Without them, I'd join her without hesitation.

She was EVERYTHING to me.

And now all I have left of her are Dante and Presley.

Her legacy.

As Presley finally closes her eyes and drifts off, I slide back into the pain.

Grace always wanted a big family. Four kids, maybe five, she'd said a year after our mating. I'd wanted it too. The more little pieces of Grace running around in this world the better. She was a great mom. Patient, nurturing, understanding, but firm. She made it all look so easy.

"You just have to love them. That's all they need," I remember the words as she cleaned up the giant collection of Lego bricks off the carpet in our living room one night after a tantrum from Dante when he didn't want a bath.

"Well, it"s harder to love him when he smells like that," I replied, laughing as I scooped her up and carried her into his room.

She made all of it easy.

And now I'm on my own.

I was supposed to have more time.