Page 79 of Someone to Remember
“People who don’t know better think everything gets better after you survive the first year. Some of my widow friends found it was years two, three and four that were the real bitch, and I thought year two was harder than year one in many ways.”
“Ugh, so it can still get worse before it gets better?”
“From what you’ve shared, it seems like you and your kids are doing as well as can be expected. Or is that what you want us to think?”
“No, we are. There’re still some tough days, though. My older two remember Bella and miss her desperately, while the younger two are aware someone is missing, but they’re fuzzy on the details. That makes me so sad for them. Thank God for videos and letters and all the things Bella did before she died so she’d be present for them throughout their lives. She even wrote letters to them for their graduations and wedding days, the birth of their first child. She made it so she’ll be present for all the big moments.”
“My Rory did, too. I have them in a fireproof safe.”
“I need to get one of those. They’re in a metal file cabinet now.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I’m realizing that. I’ll get a fireproof safe tomorrow. Thanks for the tip.”
“You could also have them scanned so you have them saved digitally, too.”
“I don’t want anyone else to see them. It’s like they’re private between the kids and their mother. Does that make sense?”
“It does. I get that. I’ve never looked at the ones Rory left for the same reason.”
“I never thought this would be my life, protecting the last letters my wife wrote to my kids. Fucking cancer.”
“Couldn’t agree more. I hate cancer more than just about anything. It’s taken so much from so many.”
“If there’s an upside, at least they had the chance to write the letters and make the videos, and we had time to prepare ourselves for them to leave us.”
“I had forty-two days, which is still surreal. From jaundiced on day one to dead in forty-two days.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
“It really was. He was in perfect health until that summer when he started having trouble eating and was losing weight for no apparent reason.”
“With hindsight, those are signs of pancreatic cancer coming on.”
“We chalked it up to getting older and naturally things would start to change. We didn’t think anything of it until the jaundice appeared.”
“And by then, it’s usually too late to do much of anything.”
“That was the case for us. They said he wasn’t eligible for surgery because it had already spread to his liver.”
“It must’ve been so shocking.”
“I think I was in shock for a full year. I have gaps in my memories from that first year.”
“It’s all a blur for me, too. You’re in survival mode at first, and the days run together.”
“They do.”
“How old were your kids when Rory died?”
“Four and two.”
“So they don’t remember him?”
“Christian has some distinct memories, but not a lot of them. Maisy doesn’t remember him at all. I’m not sure which is worse, honestly—the one who has some memories he’s tryingdesperately to hold on to or the one who has no memories of someone who should be there.”
“They’re both the worst. It’s so unfair. My heart breaks for my kids every day. I see the older ones glomming on to their friends’ mothers, and it just makes me so sad. Bella was such an amazing mom. She should be here with them.”
