Page 126 of Courage, Dear Heart

I discovered that I’m grateful for all the pain. For all the loneliness. For every tear and every time I screamed into my pillow so no one would hear me. For my pain was born of love and belonging.

But I never knew who I was until then. My formative years so intrinsically intertwined with CJ, there was never only me. I didn’t know who I was without him. I could only ever see myself through his eyes. And as much as I wish CJ were still here, I understand now that the only way I could fully grow and find myself was through the emptiness his loss left.

When I lost my husband, I also lost myself. I had no idea who I was without him. No longer his best friend. No longer a wife. All I had left, all I knew to be was a mother. I had no choice. Jamie kept me afloat. That’s the gift CJ gave me. What he left behind. What we loved most above all—being parents to Jamie.

And Elliott? He gave me a different gift. He gave me hope. He shined a light into my darkness. He could easily have given up on me. I didn’t make it easy for him to get closer. I didn’t give myself to him for a long time. It was always him, opening the door and hoping I’d step through.

Elliott showed me a different way. When I saw myself through his eyes, I saw a different version of me. One CJ never revealed. With my husband, I was still that little girl who relied on him to keep the bullies away. With Elliott, I learned I could fight the bullies myself.

But it was not until that night. The night of the fire when all I had left was my son and a parrot, that I learned to see myself through my own eyes. No longer a little girl afraid of bullies. No longer a woman who lost her husband. I’m morethan that. More than a widow. More than a flower shop owner. More than a mother.

Leaving New York felt like running away. Felt like giving up. Felt like capitulating. Going back to the house I grew up in doesn’t mean going back to being that kid I didn’t like much. I didn’t know how to love myself until CJ did. And when he died, that love died with him. Or so I thought.

Elliott brought some of that love back. But it never felt like it was enough. Even with CJ, there was always something missing.

And only now, standing here in the playground where it started, I can understand it all.

Loving myself first is what I was missing. Loving myself first doesn’t mean loving my son or my husband or anyone else less or loving them second. Loving myself first means knowing I’m deserving of love and deserving of loving myself. So when life tries to sucker punch you—and life always does—you roll with it, put your hands up, and fight back. Standing on your own two feet. Because even if you are alone, the love you have for yourself will sustain you. And all it takes is a little courage and a little heart.

Jamie finishes the book, closes it, and gives it back to me. I place it back in the bag. “Want to go on the slide?”

Jamie nods and gets up, then gives me both his little hands to help me up. We walk to the slide and I hold on the side as he climbs the ladder.

“Courage, Dear Heart.”

The voice whispers in my mind and it’s a voice I know as well as my own. A voice I haven’t heard in over two years. Tears flood my eyes and spill over my cheeks.

CJ. My best friend, my husband, my lover. It’s his voice. Ibrace for the pain. But it’s not grief that assaults me. It’s pure joy. And love. A love so immense it leaves no space for anything else.

Phantom lips kiss my forehead and I burst out in laughter. A whisper in my ear follows. “Be happy, my love.”

“I will. I will,” I whisper back into the wind.

Jamie looks down at me from the top of the slide. “Who are you talking to, Mommy?”

I smile through my tears. “I’m talking to Daddy.”

Jamie’s gaze lifts to the blue sky. “Can he see me?”

“Yes, he can.”

A big smile forms on my son’s face. He opens his arms wide and pushes down the slide. “Look at me, Daddy. No hands.”

And in this moment, every splintered, jagged piece of my soul melds back together again. Not without scars, but so much more beautiful because of them.

SEVENTY-THREE

Jillian

I send Elliott a message.

Jillian: I’m ready to talk. Can you meet here?

I follow the message with a ping for our location.

Elliott: Leaving right now.

I walk back to the swings and sit on one, pushing myself slowly at first, my feet still dragging on wood chips. Then I grasp the chains and step back until I’m on tiptoes, pick up my feet, and let go. I stretch my legs in front of me, keeping the up momentum, and pull them back to gain speed and go higher and higher. My hair streams behind me with the forward movement and then covers my face as I reverse. I tilt my head back, taking in the blue sky, the passing fluffy clouds, a lonely hawk riding the winds, wings spread open, trusting its ability to fly without having to flap its wings.

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