His arms wrapped around my torso, tugging me tightly to him. His warmth completely enveloped me, completely immersedmein him.
His nearness felt more comforting than anything had in a very long time and that confused me. I cried harder, battling within myself whether to let him hold me or pull away and ask him to leave.
Eventually I gave in and sunk into his hug. I kept my hands over my face in a silly attempt to keep my makeup from running all over his gray t-shirt. He held me close to his chest, my ear resting against the heavy beats of his heart.
He whispered soothing words that I couldn’t hear above the roar of my internal war and never moved away from me, not until I had calmed down enough to pull back.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed by my outburst. “I didn’t mean to leak all over you.”
He had no patience for my flippant attitude. His hands brushed from my shoulders, up the line of my neck until they cupped my face. He tilted it upwards to look at him and smoothed his thumbs beneath my eyes, wiping away the flood of tears.
“Don’t ever be sorry for that, Liz. You can cry on me anytime you need to.”
“Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me.”
A soft smile played on his lips, “But I like what I know so far. And I am excited for what else there is to find out.” He stepped back to refill our wine while I reeled from his words.
He settled back onto the bar stool and started conversation again about our nosey neighbor, Mrs.Mitchum, who had brought over an olive loaf for him the other day and made him give her a tour of his house.
We talked for another two hours, enjoying the wine and learning more about each other little pieces at a time. By the time I walked him to the front door, it was past my usual bed time and I knew I would be more tired than usual in the morning.
But I fell asleep easily and without tears.
Ben had been a therapy of sorts. And I couldn’t make myself regret the time we’d spent together. I decided to ignore Emma’s words completely. I knew Ben better than she did and I wasn’t ready to give up this new friend I’d only just made.
Stage Three: Bargaining
I survived denial.
I crawled my way through anger.
And now I would battle bargaining.
Before this happened to me and before I became a clinical study on what it’s like to lose someone important, I had always thought of bargaining as the easy stage.
It’s so much easier to wish someone back than admit that they’re gone. It didn’t seem like a difficult process before I had to go through it myself. But I had never known real grief before, so I couldn’t picture myself pleading for my husband’s return or desperately begging God to bring him back to me.
And that is the crux of it right there.Desperate.Desperation.Desperatelywilling to give up anything if I could just see him one more time, speak to him one more time. Kiss him one last time.
I have become so desperate in my grief that I can’t be reasoned with. The pain continues to slice at my chest like a deadly knife, digging deep and making wounds that I am convinced can never be healed. The sheer intensity of it only worsens as the days go by. There is no end in sight. No reprieve or fast breath of relief.
There is only sadness and tears.
In the middle of this agony, I begin to think of Grady less and less. My life moves on. The kids keep me busy. School days fill my time and practices hoard my nights. I am becoming more self-sufficient every day and for the things I cannot do myself, I now have a sturdy support system that swoops in before I ever need to ask.
At night I lie in bed and force myself to think as much about Grady as I can. I constantly worry about losing all of my memories of him, of not being able to remember things just as they were. I do whatever I can to shove thoughts of everyone else out of my head and think only of Grady.
Because he is not the only person I want to think about. And I hate myself for that. I hate that my thoughts won’t stay loyal to my husband.
I will do anything to ease this guilt and misery, to tape my broken heart back together. I will do anything to think of Grady as my husband.Even still.Even beyond his death.
And to think of Ben as only a friend.
Chapter Fourteen
“You guys shouldn’t have let me sleep in! I could have gotten up!” I wandered into the kitchen, following my nose and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
My parents had arrived from Florida the day before. They were from this area and had raised Emma and me here, but took their retirement some place warm.
