Page 42 of Someone to Remember
“That’s true.” I rest my head on his chest. “Thank you for always being the voice of reason.”
“Your voice is pretty reasonable, too, but like we always say, no big decisions right after a big loss, even if it’s someone else’s big loss.”
“Thank you for being you, for always knowing what we all need and trying to get it for us. We’re so lucky to have you.”
“I’m the lucky one. Let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep standing up.” He surprises me when he picks me up and carries me up the stairs.
I fan my face. “Sexy.”
“Haha, you’re too tired for sexy tonight.”
“How do you know? I took a nice nap in the car. I have a second wind.”
“Your tank is on empty, and we’ve got a long few days ahead of us. You need sleep more than you need me.”
“For the record, I need nothing more than I need you, even when you’re being mean to me.”
I love to make him laugh. It happens a lot more than it did when I first knew him, when he was still coping with the brutal loss of his wife and twin daughters. Every laugh I draw from him still feels like a victory, even after all this time.
I snuggle up to him in bed as he holds me close. “Sometimes it’s all too much.”
“Only sometimes?”
“A lot of the time.”
“Can I say something potentially controversial?” he asks.
“What’s that?”
“We don’t always have to be as heavily involved in the Wild Widows as we are now. No one would blame us if we took a step back to focus more on the future than on the past.”
“I’m not sure I could step away from the group.”
“I know you feel that way, but maybe you should give itsome thought. Yes, we’re doing a lot of good for people who truly need us, but what’s the toll on us to be constantly immersed in the grief of others when we’ve worked so hard to survive our own losses?”
Raising myself on one elbow, I study his handsome face. “Doyouwant to step away?”
“Not particularly, but maybe we should. Is it healthy for us to be the first call for people suffering a tragic loss? Is it in our best interest to constantly be on the front lines of fresh tragedy?”
“I can’t imagine walking away from people who need us so badly.”
“It doesn’t always have to be us who does the rescuing. I just want you to keep that in mind.”
“You raise good points, but it makes me feel good to help others. Whenever I think it’s too much, I remember Wynter when we first met her and how far she’s come from that terribly unhappy place. She’s proof that we’re making a real difference for people who desperately need it.”
“There’s no doubt at all about that, but have you noticed that on Instagram, I write more about parenting my new partner’s kids these days than I do about losing mine?”
“I have noticed that, and I love your posts about being Daddy Gage.”
“My point is that life—and grief—moves on. It evolves and changes, and we change right along with it. I’m more focused these days on what I’ve gained rather than what I’ve lost, even if I think of Nat and the girls every day and remember something fun or funny or sweet about each of them. But those memories are finite now. The ones I’m making with you and the kids… Those are infinite. At least I hope they are.”
I return my head to his chest as I consider what he said and how right he is—as usual.
“What’re you thinking?” he asks after a long silence.
“My work with widows is a big part of who I am in the ‘after.’ I’m not sure what my life would look like without it.”
“I’m not saying you have to quit it entirely or that you should quit it at all. I just want you to be aware that I see the toll it takes on you sometimes. You internalize the pain of so many others, and you carry it with you. I worry that might not be healthy for you long term, but only you can know if that’s the case.”
