In hospice care, Ryan is visited by his daughter, Georgette "Jet" Elise, who arrives in scrubs after delivering a baby. He recalls when Jet first practiced inserting an IV on him and marvels at her growth into a skilled caregiver. Jet tells Ryan that Apricity will soon be a big sister, and through tears admits she hates that he will not be there.

Summoning his strength, Ryan lifts a trembling hand to Jet’s chin and whispers her full name, then assures her that he will be present in her heart and in the life growing inside her. They quietly echo, "And everywhere," affirming a spiritual presence beyond his impending death. Jet curls beside him, and Ryan remembers Jet as a newborn, their early bond, and a playful family memory of her "first kiss." He drifts into sleep with tender, fragmented thoughts of caregiving and art from her infancy.

Ryan wakes to the starkness of the present: Jet has grown, their relationship has passed through hatred and love, and he is dying while she remains. He recognizes this as a forgiveness he never extended to his own father. He clings to the thought of Jet and the unborn child, repeating her name to himself for solace.

Looking out at a nearby Methodist church, Ryan fears the unknown of dying and describes his room as a chrysalis. Breathing is painful, and he refuses a nurse’s attempt to close the window because he needs the open sky and the church’s presence. He prays simply for pity, appealing to God in his weakness.

Ryan then imagines the aftermath of his death: Jet returning home exhausted, Kendi supporting her in shared grief, and Apricity being told the next morning that her grandfather has died. He foresees the quiet rituals of mourning—silence, water, tissues—and the small, piercing moments, like Jet kissing Apricity’s rosy cheek after kissing her father’s corpse.

Ryan requests a funeral where his paintings and photographs are displayed so he might be seen with Lillian and his mother. He envisions Jet’s life continuing: another baby, birthdays, holidays with Shauna’s stockings, work, travel, meals, photos, and everyday tasks that carry meaning. He acknowledges future pain—bullying, betrayal, sickness, war, addiction, and premature death—alongside ongoing love.

He concludes by affirming his faith in Jet’s ability to keep the family close. He imagines them visiting the hill where her parents rest and the once-sapling oak growing into a wide canopy, a symbol of enduring family rootedness after his passing.