Last Man Standing

==Chapter 1==
For the fourth time within 2 minutes, the doorbell rang and still no one answered the door.
"For the love of God, Thomas, Andrew, Mallory, someone get the door!" I yelled from the bathroom, yanking the brush through my tangled hair. 
Again the doorbell rang, with no one there to answer it. I slammed my brush down into the sink and yanked open the bathroom door. Even above my kids' continuous reckless fighting in the hallway just outside the bathroom door, the sharp chirp of the doorbell reverbated throughout the entire house. Granted, it wasn't a huge house, but still. 
I stood there in my robe, still wet from my shower, looking down at Andrew, my oldest, Thomas, my second oldest and fraternal twin with my daughter, Mallory, and my youngest, Michael, all tangled in giant, in-fighting mess on the floor. Michelle, my second youngest, was nowhere to be found.
"Get up!" I barked at them, gradually pulling them off one another. "What is the matter with you? Why did no one answer the door?"
"You never asked," said Andrew, age 16.
I rolled my eyes at him.
"Go," I said firmly, pointing in the direction of the front door.
"As for the rest of you, I don't wanna know what this was about and I don't care," I stated. "Go, get ready. We're going to visit Mom today."
Before I go further, here's what you should know about my family and I. My name is Philip Clark, and I'm a 38 year old single father of five children residing in southwest Louisiana. Fairly recently, we had our lives turned upside down by Hurricanes Laura and Delta, which completely destroyed our former family home in Holly Beach. We all made it out okay, with the exception of my wife, Kristine, who has remained in a coma ever since she was struck by flying debris in Laura. She remains in private intensive care facility, and we go visit her on occasion like we were supposed to on this day. We now live in a rundown, 3-bedroom, 1-bathroom ranch home to the north of Lake Charles, and let's just say it's not working out in our favor.
"Dad! Someone's here to see you!" Andrew yelled from the front of the house. 
I quickly put on some shorts and an old t-shirt before going to meet my surprise visitor. When I got there, it was our family attorney, Morley Davidson. His eyes were rimmed red, like he had just finished crying.
"Mr. Davidson, how nice to see you!" I said, waving him in. "What can I do for you?"
"May we go somewhere quiet?" Morley said quietly, looking at the floor.
Quickly, I ushered him into my bedroom and shut the door. He sat down at the edge of the bed, rubbing his brow.
"Is everything okay?" I said, my hands involuntarily fidgeting with nervousness.
"It's uh....uh....about.....Kristine," He choked out. 
My heart began to hammer. I felt my a lump develop in my throat.
What about her? I wanted to scream. What's going on?
"Maybe you should sit down," Morley said, patting the spot next to him.
"I don't need to sit down!" I said sharply. "You have information about my wife. Spill it!" 
"Phil..." 
"Don't 'Phil" me! Out with it!"
Morley took a deep breath and sighed. "Phil, your wife passed away this afternoon. She went peacefully. I'm so sorry." 
==Chapter 2==
No.
That did not just happen. It could not happen. Morley was wrong.
"W-?" I couldn't even speak.
I found my eyes welling up with tears. My legs felt like they were about to crumble beneath me. The room gradually got darker, until I realized I was starting to pass out.
Morley grabbed ahold of me, and gingerly led me to the bed. He knelt down and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Phil, are you okay? Do you need something?"
I think the only thing that came out were choked sobs. Gradually, they became more and more elongated and drawn out as sadness completely took over my body. 
Morley handed me a tissue and kept his hand on my shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Phil. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know." 
Eventually, I was able to regain my composure. I escorted Morley out of the house, continuously assaulted by my kids along the way, beggining to know all the hidden details of our conversation.
After Morley left, the realization smacked me in the face like a frying pan when I realized I had to break the news to my kids. Alone. When Kristine was alive, we'd always sit our kids down together and take turns explaining bad news if and when it came. Those days were over.
This is every parent's nightmare. How do you tell your kids that their mother isn't coming home? How do you explain death to the little ones, in a way they can understand that they'll never see their mother alive again? It isn't fair. It's cruel. And so undeserving to a beautiful, innocent, God-fearing woman like Kristine.
My thoughts stopped cycling when I was shoved in the side by Michelle, my 7-year old. 
"Daddy!" she screamed enthusiastically. "Let's go see Mommy now!"
I took a big gulp of air. I knelt down to her level, asking her to take a seat at the dining room table. One by one, I gathered all my kids and sat them in their respective spots at the table. They all looked up at me in forlorn silence, unnerved by my stoicness. Something in the air was off, and they detected it.
"Dad? What's wrong?" Thomas asked. 
I took a deep breath. "Kids, you know how your mother was injured in the hurricane, right?"
They all nodded slowly.
"Let's remember that, before I go on, Mom was in a lot of pain, and didn't really have a way out."
I looked up for a second, and saw Mallory staring at her lap, trying to fight back tears. She knew what was coming.
"When Mr. Davidson stopped by today, he brought by some news about Mom. And unfortunately she won't be getting better...be....because..."
Immediately, the tears came rushing out without giving me a chance to fight back. I felt the gentle touch of Thomas's hand on my shoulder, comforting me, letting me know it was okay to continue.
"Kids, I wish we had better news, but Mom passed away this afternoon. Her injuries in the storm were far too much to bear, and to release the pain she went Home to be with God today. Mom will not be with us anymore," I summoned all possible strength within to deliver that sentence. 
I took a look around and surveyed my kids. Andrew, Thomas, and Mallory were either crying, or trying hard to fight back tears. Michelle looked confused and distressed. Michael, being only 2.5 years old, remained unphased.
It's so unfair! I thought to myself. He'll never get to know her!
Gradually, and without speaking, we gathered together in a giant group hug. We just stood in that embrace, utterly silent, in what felt like forever. Even in our lowest moments, your loved ones are what keep you going. I'm so grateful.