Page 25 of The River Is Waiting

“Too bad they weren’t your priority then.”

“Emily, theywere.”

“No, your priority was numbing your self-pity with alcohol and drugs, or as you like to put it, ‘checking out,’ which sounds a lot nicer than getting behind the wheel while you were incapacitated and backing over our son.” She begins to sob. “And because of that, I’m never going to see him again, cuddle with him, tickle his tummy when I’m changing his diaper and hearhis giggle. I won’t be able to go to his swimming lessons, his T-ball games. Send him off to high school, then college. Watch him become whoever he was going to be. You took all of that away from me, Corby. You put the car in reverse and stole him from me.”

I can’t do it. Can’t keep facing her, watching the grim truth come out of her angry mouth, but she doesn’t stop. I look at Patel, my eyes begging her to intervene, but she lets it go on. Lets Emily lash out, then wail from the pain. When Em stands up and walks toward the door, I assume she’s storming out of the session. But then she pivots, comes back, and sits down again. Having unleashed some of her pain seems to have calmed her down.

“And the thing that’s so confusing is that I love you and feel sorry for you because of the shame you must have to carry, which I can’t even begin to imagine. But I hate you, too, Corby, for breaking that trust I thought I could rely on.”

“You don’t think I hatemyself, Emily?” Calm down. Lower your voice. “Babe, you and I have a history,” I remind her. “And sure, we’ve had our ups and downs, but until recently—”

“That’s a pretty big ‘until recently,’ don’t you think?”

“All I’m saying is—”

“Don’t youdaredismiss my son’s death like that! Don’t you fuckingdare!”

“Yourson? He wasourson, Emily!” Inhale, exhale. Once, twice, three times.

She sits there, fuming. Glances over at Patel, then turns back to me. “I get that you were depressed about your career. And that me bringing home a paycheck while you took care of the kids all day wasn’t a great fit for you. Bruised your fragile male ego or whatever. But do you think it was easy for me to drive away from them every morning? Or when I got home, having to give up bath time on school nights because I had hours of work to get to? Because one of us had to be the grown-up? And then having to get into bed and listen to you complain about how exhaustedyouwere?”

“Babe, the arrangement was situational. Temporary until I could—”

“You know what’snottemporary, Corby? One of my babies is dead!” Her face is flushed, contorted with anger. “That’s permanent. Do you remember how that doctor advised me not to go to him in that hospital morgue? But I wouldn’t listen. I needed to see him, be with him. And now all I can see is his damaged body, my little live wire lying there ashen and still.”

When Dr. Patel asks me whether I want to respond to what she’s just said, I shake my head. What words are there to soothe the pain I’ve inflicted on her? Turning to Emily, Patel asks whether there’s anything else she wants to say to me. She nods, turns, and looks me in the eye. Her words are more measured now, more sad than angry. “People lose jobs all the time without falling apart and causing everything else to fall apart around them,” she says. “Without causing the death of one of their children. I just can’t imagine how I’m ever going to be able to forgive you so that we can salvage what’s left. And I’ll be honest with you, Corby. I’m not sure Iwantto.”

We’re both crying now, and when I look over at Patel, I see that her eyes are wet, too. This comforts me somehow. For a minute or more, the three of us sit in silence with what’s just been said. Dr. Patel is the first to speak.

“When a child dies, no matter the circumstances, it puts a terrible strain on the parents’ relationship. How could it not? But the fact that you are here together is, in my opinion, a hopeful sign. Let’s visualize that hope as a flickering candle flame. It may stabilize and keep burning or be snuffed out. It depends on your willingness to do the hard work of sustaining your relationship under extremely difficult circumstances, or your decision to end it and move on.

“I also would like to point out that, although you have lost thesamechild, your relationship with him will have been different. Corby, perhaps you can keep in mind that Niko’s and his sister’s bodies grew inside of, and emerged from, Emily’s body. Before you had your first glimpse of them in the delivery room, your son and daughter had an intimate nine-month bond with their mother.”

When I reach over and cup Emily’s shoulder, she shifts her body away from me. Dr. Patel observes this without dropping a beat.

“And Emily, fathers and sons bond as well, but differently. More often than not, as the male child grows, he observes and begins to emulate his father’s way of being in the world. So I would encourage you both to keep in mind that female grief and male grief in response to the death of a child manifest differently. Because men are conditioned to be strong and stoic, their bereavement tends to be internalized and private. Conversely, women are allowed and encouraged to express their feelings more openly. The danger for you as a couple is that you might not understand that there are these differences. A mother might incorrectly conclude that her child’s father cares less deeply about his death or rebounds more quickly and she resents him for it, whereas the father might wish that the child’s mother would rein in her emotions. These are general patterns that don’t apply to all couples, of course. The important thing is to keep talking to each other—to not get so mired in your own pain that you fail to understand the pain your partner is feeling.”

“I know Corby’s in pain,” Emily tells her. “But Niko is dead because he chose to impair his judgment that morning.” She looks from Patel to me. “And it was achoice, Corby, so I’m sorry, but empathizing with your grief right now isn’t something I can do because my anger is in the way.”

I nod. Mumble that I understand. But do I? Would I be able to empathize with her if she had been the driver?

“And I want to apologize to you, Emily,” Dr. Patel says, “if I’ve seemed not to acknowledge that your anger is as legitimate as your grief. I assure you that Idoacknowledge this, and if we continue working together, that is something we would surely wish to address.” Emily nods, but just barely.

Dr. Patel says our time for today is just about up. “Should you both wish to continue with the work we began today, I would request that next time I see each of you separately. After that, we can reconvene for another joint session. But whether it’s with me or another therapist, I strongly recommend that you continue to undergo counseling.

“You should probably avoid sexual intimacy,” she says, “until you’rebothready. Holding each other and crying together might be a far more useful form of intimacy for now.”

If we could ever manage to do that, I think; we’re nowhere near being able to do that now.

“And you should consider joining a grief group with other parents who have lost a child. Perhaps most importantly, you should take comfort in knowing that suffering as acute as yours is today will lessen over time.

“And Emily, I encourage you to do what you can to replace the image of your son as he looked in death with memories of him during happy times. Look at photographs, footprints. Watch videos, share stories about him. This may make others feel uncomfortable. They might become tongue-tied trying to think of what to say. But their discomfort is not your problem. Your challenge is to survive this early stage of grief while your pain is so raw and intense. And by all means, talk about Niko with your daughter if you can.”

Emily nods compliantly.

Dr. Patel flips through her notes. “Ah, I knew I wanted to return to something before you go. Emily, when you were speaking before about the many emotions you’ve been feeling, you identified one of them as guilt. Can you say what it is that’s making you feel guilty?”

Emily looks over at me and seems to be deliberating about whether or not to say it. She opens her mouth, closes it again, and then speaks. “I wondered if Corby might have been drinking during the day. It was only a hunch, but maybe I should have asked him about it. Confronted him about it. Maybe if I had…”

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