Page 12 of Courage, Dear Heart

My laughter dies and I’m reminded of all the reasons I should not laugh.

Sheila’s face hardens. “Stop it.” Her voice is low and sharp. “You’re allowed to laugh. You’re allowed to go on and live and be happy. Jamie needs you to be a whole person. Not a shadow of who you used to be. CJ would be so mad if he saw you like this.”

I swallow the knot taking root in my throat. “Not now, Sheila.”

“Yes, now.” She hisses. “You can’t keep going on like this. It’s not good for you or Jamie or anyone else. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. Like thousands of others that happen every day.”

“But if I hadn’t called him, if I had waited five minutes, if I had gone to the store myself?—”

“If, if, if. You can play that if game in your head a million times, but it won’t change the outcome. It was not your fault or CJ’s fault or Jamie’s fault for wanting to FaceTime you. The only person who could have prevented it from happening was the asshole texting and driving. Having your child talk to you on the phone while CJ drove didn’t cause the accident.”

My shoulders slump under the weight of my never-ending guilt. “I know that.” My voice cracks.

She sighs. “It’s been two years. It’s time to move on, to be happy again.”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes speaking. “Grief doesn’t have an expiration date.”

Her face softens. “No, it doesn’t. But life does. Don’t let yours expire before you have a chance to live.”

My heartbeats echo in the hollow space CJ left inside me. And behind the echo, the sound of his voice reaches to me.I’m the one who died, but you are a ghost of yourself. You have to let me go.

We sit in silence for several minutes, my eyes trained on Jamie. He seems happy, running from one spot to the next. But if one were to pay careful attention to him, they’d notice he never talks or engages with other children. When another kid talks to him, he runs off to play with something else. And that’s on me too.

I allowed it to happen. I allowed my grief over losing CJ to spill over Jamie’s life. My happy, carefree little boy, who talked nonstop, went silent the day of the accident. All the therapist and hospital visits, hours upon hours of research online, tens of thousands of dollars spent on doctors, experts, exhausting every possibility, all with the same response. There’s nothing physically wrong with him. He’ll talk when he’s ready. But what if the reason he’s not ready is me?

Jamie peers at me from behind a slide. His smile turns into a frown. Damn it. So much of what I feel affects him. I force my lips to spread into a smile. Let the love for my son fill me and push away the darkness hiding in the corners of my soul until I don’t have to force the smile any longer. My eyes mist with gratitude for my boy. A part of CJ will always be with me. I could have lost them both. I’m sure I would not have survived it.

Jamie runs to me and throws his skinny arms around my neck. I pick him up and settle him on my lap. Hug him tight, inhale his sweet scent of sugar and sun-warmed skin. Irun my fingers through his too long hair and kiss the top of his head, then whisper in his ear, “I love you, baby. I’ll love you always, forever and a day.”

Jamie squeezes me harder and then pulls back, his gaze searching my face. I smile, and it comes easier to me now. Satisfied, he hops off my lap and runs back to the playground.

Enough. Enough of feeling sorry for myself. I sigh. “You’re right. I need to move on. Jamie needs me to move on. I have held us both hostage to my pain. For Jamie’s sake, I need to let CJ go.” I’ve lived in denial for far too long. I’ve been selfish in my sorrow. Not careful enough. Jamie follows my lead, learns from me.

Sheila grabs my hand between hers. “You need to move on, for both your sakes.”

“I miss him so much.” I choke back the urge to cry. Pull my sunglasses from the top of my head and hide my eyes.

She squeezes my hand. “I can’t ever know what you feel, how hard it hit you when CJ died. I miss him and he was just my friend’s husband, not someone I’d known as long as you have.”

I scrunch my eyes closed, but a tear escapes anyway. “He was always there. My entire life it was CJ and Jill against the world. And now . . .”

“You have to learn to be Jill against the world. You have to learn to be a whole person again. For Jamie, yes. But for yourself first.”

I nod. “I know. I know you’re right and what you’re saying makes sense, but why do I feel so guilty then? It feels like I’mbeing selfish.”

Sheila shifts to face me. “Loving yourself, looking after yourself, is never selfish.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know . . .”

She puts a hand up. “Do you want Jamie to be happy?”

Her question is so ridiculous I’m momentarily rendered speechless. “Of course!”

“Do you want Jamie to love himself?”

No hesitation now. “Yes!”

“Would you ever tell him loving himself is selfish?”

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