Page 98 of Stay With Me

When she gets in her car and drives off, I stand outside and stare after her for several minutes, her words playing on repeat in my head.

CHAPTER37

EMILY

I’ve been sitting in the passenger seat of Trina’s car for several minutes, staring out the window, trying to get up the courage to climb out and do this.

Trina breaks the silence. “It’s kind of stuffy in the car. How about I walk with you, and I’ll sit on one of those benches while you go see him?”

I swallow around the lump in my throat and nod at her. She doesn’t really think it’s uncomfortable in here—it’s early September and pleasantly cool outside—but she’s trying to support me. When I climb out of the car, my hands are shaking so much that the two pieces of paper I’m holding quiver.

Trina and I walk to the bench, and she sits down. I take a deep breath and walk alone for the last fifty feet to Teddy’s grave. Before I sit down, I pause and look at his headstone, bending down to brush some grass clippings off it. When I stand, I’m struck anew by how thoughtful it was of Teddy’s firefighter comrades to collectively fund the two beautiful concrete benches that flank his resting place, and I sit on one of them.

“Hi Teddy. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we lost you. I know I don’t come here a lot anymore, but I hope you’ve heard me all the times I’ve talked to you this last year. I don’t know how all of that works, obviously, wherever you are now. If you can hear me, I’m sorry for some of the mean stuff I said early on. I hope you know I didn’t mean it. I was just so hurt and shell-shocked. It’s still unbelievable to me that I haven’t heard you laugh or seen you smile in so long.”

Shit, this is hard.

I wipe a tear from my cheek using the back of my hand, reach down into my bag and pull out some tissues and the small key that arrived in the mail two weeks ago.

“I’ve done a lot of work with a therapist this year to cope with my grief. And one thing that she helped me realize is that when I was really sad and missing you—or honestly really pissed at you—I kept going back and re-reading the letter you left me, hoping it would make me feel closer to you, better maybe. But that letter had so much hurt and pain in it, and it would inevitably make me sadder. That’s not how I want to remember you. I want to remember the good things, the times you were happy. But I also have some things I want to say to you so we can close the door on our love story with peace between us. So, um, I know I’m totally rambling now—bet you’re not surprised by that—but I’m going to read a letter I wrote to you, and then I’m gonna put both of our letters in a metal box that I had installed under one of these benches and lock it away so they’ll always be safe and together. Our goodbyes to each other…”

I hold up the key as if he can see it and then I pick up my letter to him, breathe deeply, and start reading.

Dear Teddy,

As I’m writing this, it’s been almost a year that you’ve been gone. It’s all still so surreal. I find myself asking how this happened to us, but I know there really isn’t an answer. It just did.

I’m sorry if you heard all the mean things I said to you when I was angry this year. I didn’t really mean them. I’m guessing that, wherever you are, you’re more evolved than we are in this life as humans and if you heard those things, you saw them for what they really were—the grief of a young woman who lost her husband and one of her best friends. Still, I want you to know I’m sorry for that.

It took me a while to get here, but I need to tell you, I forgive you. I believe in my heart that you did what you did because of your illness. I don’t think you would have otherwise, and I’m so sorry that you were sick, Teddy. It robbed you of so much, and it robbed us all from having you longer.

My wish now is that you’re not in pain anymore and I hope you’ve forgiven me for not seeing that you were struggling. You always were more gracious than me, so I’m guessing you already forgave me before I’ve even asked for it.

In your letter to me you said, “… if I can influence it at all from the other side, I’m going to spend eternity trying to send love your way.” I think you’re doing that—I didn’t think I would find it in me to trust and love someone again but, by some miracle (which I’m guessing you had a hand in), I did. It didn’t work out, but I still felt it and I’m grateful to know that it’s a possibility. So, thank you.

I loved you Teddy and you were a good man. When I think of you now, it will still be with love, and I’ll make sure none of us ever stop remembering all the joy and goodness you brought to our lives.

Until I see you again,

Emily

“Wow.Sorry that took so long to get through. And now I’m here, all snotty and gross.”

I wipe my tears, then blow my nose. Afterward, I fold both letters together and kneel before the bench I’m sitting on, sliding my hand underneath to feel for the box that’s supposed to be there. It is, and I use the small key to unlock it and slip the letters inside before locking it again.

When I stand, I kiss the pads of my right index and middle fingers, then touch it to Teddy’s headstone. “Bye, Teddy.”

* * *

“CanI ask you a question about the cemetery?” Trina asks. She’s expertly navigating the curvy roads on the way back from the border of Elladine and Meadow Creek, the cool air providing us with a nice breeze through the open windows.

“Sure,” I answer quietly.

“What made you pick a cemetery this far out when there’re two in Elladine? I always wondered but was afraid to ask you.”

“Oh, that’s easy: spite.” I chuckle and watch my sister for her reaction. Trina glances at me with one eyebrow raised, like I might be losing it. “Even though Mom and Dad hated Teddy, they tried to strong-arm me into burying him at the ‘family’ cemetery on Third Avenue and Main. And Teddy’s parents reached out—even though no one in his family had spoken to him in six fucking years—and they wanted him buried in the other one, where all the members of their congregation get buried. So, I aimed to piss them both off and buried him here.”

Trina lets out a hearty laugh. “Impressive, little sister. Remind me never to piss you off.”

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