Page 15 of Someone to Remember
Her chin quivers as she tries to contain her sadness. “You really think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
My phone is buzzing with texts and calls, so I punch in my code and hand it to Iris.
“I’ll take care of responding to everyone for you.”
“Thank you. I can’t handle that right now.”
“I know.”
I remember being inundated after Greg died and not havingthe bandwidth to reply to anyone, even our closest friends and family.
Amanda comes to sit with me, putting her arm around my shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry, Tay.”
I lean my head on my big sister’s shoulder as my parents snuggle the kids. “Thanks for coming.” She stayed with me for a month after Greg died, many nights sleeping in my bed so I wouldn’t be alone. I love her dearly, but sometimes she’s overly opinionated about things that’re none of her business, such as when I started dating Will and she thought it was too soon, even though it’d been five years. It took me a long time to forgive her for saying that out loud.
“Of course. What can I do?”
“I have to get with his parents about what they want for services.”
“Do you want me to handle that?”
“That’s okay. I’ll do it.”
Once, when I was very young, I got sucked into a riptide at the beach in Ocean City in Maryland when we were there for a family vacation. I can still vividly remember struggling against the current that was determined to sweep me out to sea, before a lifeguard saved me.
From the moment I woke up today, I’ve had that same sense of struggling against a current that’s intent on sweeping me into the unknown once again. I wish the feeling wasn’t familiar, but it’s just like it was after Greg died. Only this time, it’s colored by shock. Widows debate which is worse—seeing a spouse through a dreaded illness or losing them suddenly. I used to say the illness was worse, the prolonged suffering, the doctors’ appointments in which there’s never any good news…
But this is worse. A regular day in a regular life in which lightning strikes out of nowhere and takes the one person you need the most. It’ll take me months, if not years, to wrap my head around the fact that Will is never coming home again.
He’ll never come through the door bringing the scent of fresh air and hard work.
He’ll never wrap his arms around me from behind when I’m at the sink or the stove and kiss my neck and tell me how much he missed me while he was gone.
He’ll never cuddle me in bed or make sweet love to me or talk to our baby about all the things they’ll do together.
He’ll never wrestle with Miles or let Eliza paint his nails.
He’ll never meet the baby he wanted so badly that I agreed to have one more just for him.
As if he knows I’m thinking of him, the baby checks in with a hearty kick to my ribs.
Will loved feeling the baby move inside me. He was endlessly fascinated with everything about his child and was counting down the days until the due date, which is now just over a month away. I’m absolutely devastated that he won’t get to meet the little boy he wanted so much.
“I need a shower.”
“Do you want help?” Amanda asks.
“That’s okay. Stay with the kids, will you?”
“I’ll be right here for as long as you need me.”
I squeeze her arm and stand on legs that’re unsteady beneath me.
“Where’re you going, Mommy?” Eliza asks.
“To take a shower. I’ll be right back. Auntie Amanda, Grandma and Grandpa are here if you need them.”
