BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER
HERO IN LIFE AND DEATH
“Hey,” I whisper, my voice scratchy from the crying and screaming. “It’s me.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, not caring how gross it is.
The headstone offers no response, but then again, it never does. Silly how even after four years, I still expect to hear his voice, rich and warm with a hint of a laugh always lurking beneath the surface. Sometimes I swear I can almost feel his hand on my shoulder when I’m here, sense his presence beside me. Today, though, it’s only silence and the distant chirp of birds.
I sit down, folding myself onto the manicured grass, not caring if the morning dew wets my pajama pants, and I talk to Daniel like he’s listening. “Penny’s okay. She’s getting ready for her Christmas ballet recital. Still obsessed with the pink tutus, still tucks her stuffed animals in at night. She’s doing well in school, but even if she fails all her grades, she’s got a future as a handyman. You’d like that. She keeps sneaking tools out of the kitchen cabinet to fix things in her room. I caught her last week unscrewing the doorknob so she could figure out how it worked.”
My lips twitch in a smile trapped somewhere between joy and heartbreak. I imagine Daniel shaking his head, half-exasperated and half-delighted. He was the fun parent, the one who could turn a disaster into an adventure. For a moment, I sit with that, listening to the leaves shiver in the wind, pretending he’s with me.
Silence settles around me, deep and painful. I let it stretch, my mind emptying. Then, in that hush, I hear him. Not with my ears, but in the part of my heart that still belongs to him. “And how are you doing, Lucky?”
I bow my head, letting the tears come. Sorrow, anxiety, and grief roll over me in waves until I’m gasping. The world narrows to the ache that never leaves my chest. “I’m not doing so great,” I whisper. “It’s been a hard few days. I’m tired, Daniel. I’m so tired.”
I close my eyes and let the wind carry away the confession. I know what he would say if he were here: “All bad days end, Lucky. You just have to get through them, one step at a time.”
I laugh a little between the tears. “You were always better at pep talks than I am.”
A breeze comes rustling in. I draw in the smell of grass clippings, sunlight, and something else… A hint of cold forest, that wintery scent Daniel carried even in a city wrapped in a never-ending summer. For a deluded second, I believe he’s just out of sight, waiting to step out from behind a tree and tell me everything is going to be alright.
I lean back on my hands, staring up at the sky, letting the sun warm my face. I want to stay forever caught in the in between, where nothing hurts, not even the memories.
But I can’t. Not forever.
I sigh, wiping my cheeks. “Do you know what the worst part is?”
That strange wintery wind picks up again, and I let myself believe it is Daniel answering me.
“The worst part is you’d love him,” I admit. “If you were still here, you and Josh would be best friends. You’d talk music and baseball, and Penny would have you both eating out of her hands. If you had known you were leaving us and had to pick a replacement father and husband, you would’ve picked him. You couldn’t have wished for anyone better for us.”
I shake my head. “But I can’t do it. I can’t let myself love him; I wouldn’t survive another loss.” I lift my hands as if preventing Daniel from answering, as if this were a real two-way conversation. “I know what you’d say—that surviving isn’t the same as living, that Penny and I deserve more than getting by. But I’m scared.”
That strange wind picks up, brushing my hair across my face. I lift my hand to it, relishing the air flowing between my fingers.
A woman walks past, her headphones blasting music so loud that even I hear the chorus. It’s Dorian’s song, “Learn to Love Again.”
“No,” I tell Daniel. “If you’re sending me a message, forget it. I can’t.”
I lean forward, pressing my palm flat against the cool marble of the headstone. “I’m so angry at you sometimes,” I confess, the words rushing out before I can stop them. “For choosing this job. For putting yourself in danger. For leaving me alone to raise our daughter.” My voice breaks on the last word. “And I’m angry at myself for falling in love with another man who could leave me the same way.”
A squirrel darts across a nearby grave, staring at me with bright, curious eyes before scampering up a tree. Life continues, oblivious to human loss.
I get to my feet, knees protesting, and press my fingers to my lips, then touch them to the top of the headstone.
“I love you. I’ll always love you. But you left me broken, and I can’t be brave anymore.”
As I turn to leave, the sun catches on something metallic at the base of the headstone—a penny, face-up and gleaming. My heart beats faster. I stoop and pick it up, the metal warm against my skin. I stare at the headstone and shake my head. “You were always stubborn, my love. But this is one battle you can’t win. Even if Josh wanted me back after the way I treated him this morning, I can’t do it. Get it out of your head.”
I close my fingers around the coin, holding it tight as I retrace my steps out the cemetery, past the rows of headstones and monuments, through the wrought-iron gate, and out into the world of the living.
As I reach the sidewalk, I pull out my phone and order a ride. I can’t face a three-mile walk, not in my current state. While I wait, I contemplate the penny in my palm, turning it over and over, watching it catch the light.
A car rolls to a stop, windows down, and Dorian’s voice spills out, carrying those same lyrics into the air about learning to love again. The wind rises once more, impossibly cool, wrapping around me like a pair of familiar arms.
And in that breath, I hear Daniel’s voice, coming from somewhere under my ribs, whispering, “Learn to love again, Lucky.”
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