From Memoirs of D(e)ath, chapter: A modern herbal
She sat on the chair, her eyes filled with tears. Her father was silent, waiting for her to share what the result of her visit to the hospital had been. She was in her first trimester, carrying a baby whose father - her husband - had died just 2 months ago. Her father was old. After 100 years, even the medicine couldn’t work its miracles as well as it had before.
“The doctor was very direct,” she broke the silence, “There’s something wrong with the baby; there’s an infection. I could lose it.”
It took the old man a few seconds to process what she’d just told him. Though it upset him deeply, he managed to not show a whiff of it in his facial expression. He needed to stay calm. He knew his daughter and what she was ready to sacrifice to keep him alive. Tears burst from her eyes. He knew how this news had put her in a situation she wasn’t ready to face.
“Please,” he calmly intoned, “I’ve lived my life. There is no decision to make. I already made it for myself a long time ago, and I told you so many times. We both knew a moment like this would come.”
“I can’t ask you. I can’t do this. I can’t–” Penelope trailed off in tears, realizing hadn’t had to ask. Her father had already determined what he was going to do. Always stubborn.
“The baby is all you have left of him”, her father continued, “I’m too old. Living this long has more than enough, maybe too much. We both knew we couldn’t do this forever. Take the medicine, save the baby, leave everything else behind.”
“What if they ever come back for-” He held his hand up and she stopped mid-sentence. She wanted to express her fear, but she couldn’t. He knew the fear viscerally, too. There was no need to voice it, after all.