Loving and living happily IS your mom’s wish. Stomach the bad chicken today; get the ribs tomorrow.
Some days their kindness and love was enough family for me. Others days, like today, it made me sad that I wouldn’t smell my mom’s lotion or have her laugh with me again. I pulled my legs tighter up to my chest as the wind picked up, and my body trembled. The freezing cold didn’t deter me. I promised myself I would never forget even for a moment all my mom had done for me. Dry sobs took me again, and I slipped off the hood of the car. I didn’t stumble onto the ground, but I did lose my balance and shouted when strong arms surrounded me. “Gah!”
“Hey, it’s just me.” The familiar, deep voice warmed my heart. His scent enveloped me. “It’s just me.”
“Wh-what are you d-doing here?” My teeth chattered, and his hands held my head against his chest. “How d-did you know?”
“Shh. Take a breath. I’ll tell you; don’t worry. Relax.” He positioned himself behind me on the hood of the car, moving my body between his strong legs with a gentleness that almost caused another round of tears. “Your skin is like ice. Do you have a blanket?”
“No. I didn’t th-think that far.”
“Crazy, crazy girl. Stay here.” He squeezed me tighter, something soft touching the side of my head before he set me back on the car. It disturbed me I’d never heard his car enter the lot. To be fair, I was lost in my own demented thoughts. If I hadn’t fallen, I doubt I would’ve known he was there. “I have one. Here.” He held out a fleece blanket, and I ran to him. He wrapped it around me like a burrito before he picked me back up and repositioned us, so we sat on the car. It took several minutes for my body to warm up, and when it did, I leaned back into him with a deeply satisfying sigh.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His arms circled around me, and his hands rested on my thighs. We had never touched like this before. Ever. My heart hurt, the pain and grief of the day taking its toll. But, when his hands brushed against my legs, an entirely new feeling took over. I sighed, closing my eyes and living in the moment. In Fritz’ terms, this was a slow-cooked rack of ribs moment.
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here. If not, I’m here, too. I brought cards, but with the wind, I don’t think that’s possible.” His soothing voice penetrated the mental walls I had built in the past twelve hours. “The first time for me, we uh, came out to the plot and sat there all day. My dad brought cards, and we ended up playing rummy for hours. It helped, somehow.”
I sniffled into the arm of my sweatshirt, the story breaking out a small, tiny wave of laughter. “Did you win?”
“No idea. We all were a blubbering mess.” His voice lowered, our shared grief not making it better, just a little easier.
“Do you play Egyptian Rat Screw with your parents, too?”
“We all used to play. My sister and I learned it when we were young. While you were dressing like crayons in one color and playing with yo-yos, we were playing cards.” His calm, steady voice reassured me like the blanket. I focused on it. He told stories about him and his sister fighting over who won and how they both got grounded from cards for an entire summer. I sniffled, laughed, and a little tension left my body. It was a small break in conversation when he pulled me tighter against him. He lowered his head, so his mouth was near my ear, causing my pulse to race.
“Do you want to go in?”
“I never do,” I said, looking at the gate. It was a gloomy, chilly October day, and I wanted to go in. I really did, but would it be worse? Harder? Did I want to see the awful stone that was supposed to represent my mother’s decaying body? I didn’t know. Another wave of guilt and nausea overtook me.
Brock simply held me. I’d never needed anyone else before. Not like this. When I settled down enough to take a normal breath, I wiped my eyes and looked up at his face. My heart constricted at the emotion swirling in his blue eyes. I swallowed, loudly. “Do you go visit your sister’s and niece’s graves?”
He nodded, slowly and ran his hands over his face with a pained expression. “Yes. I like to bring flowers. They loved daisies. I know my parents don’t like to come. They only do on the anniversary.”
“Do you come more than that?” The thought nauseated me. I could barely handle one miserable week a year, let alone opening the floodgates more than that.
He gave me a sad smile. “I go a couple of times. When it’s nice out, I like to come out here. You know,” he stopped and cleared his throat. “My sister and niece are in here too. Some day—not today—I’d like to take you to their spot.”
I didn’t respond, instead I admired him. I remember during a counseling session Fritz forced me to go to where the counselor said people grieve in different ways. There was no right or correct way to grieve. Some people never went to the gravesite, some went every day, some had their loved ones cremated and put into jewelry or released into a storm. This wasn’t multiple-choice. There was no right answer.
He broke the silence. “It’s your decision, but I’ll go in with you if you want me to.”
I nodded, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of him. The sound of the wind and leaves the only thing intruding on our moment. Until my stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. Brock’s hands went to my stomach, patting it with a laugh. “Did you bring any snacks?”
“No. I didn’t plan anything out. I just needed to be here.” I shifted my weight and slid to the asphalt, an unfamiliar pang of curiosity coursing through my veins. “I think,” I paused looking at the gate. “I want to try.”
“Do you want to go alone?” His kind, sweet voice made my eyes sting again. He waited with all the patience in the world. I shook my head and held out my trembling hand for him to grab it. He gave me a pained smile and joined our hands. “I’ll be what you need me to today.”
I squeezed his grip and took slow tentative steps toward the gate. I gulped, pausing at the entrance. I had no idea where her gravestone was. I blocked out the funeral years ago and tried to survive. “I don’t know where. I can’t remember.”
“Can your stomach handle walking around?”
“Y-y-yes.” My teeth chattered harder than ever, and my heart pounded. “I ne-need to.”
“Okay, let’s do it.” He fit me right underneath the crook of his bad arm. It was oddly poetic; the injured arm was giving me strength. “Let’s just walk.”
And we walked. We walked around the outside then circled the inner portion. My heart hadn’t calmed down yet, but I felt ready. It wasn’t until we reached an inner row by an old oak tree that I knew it was there. A solid black stone with familiar lettering stopped me. I read the name, and it was like a hand reached into my body and tore out my heart. I froze, not sure if I could go further. I could see them lowering the casket as neighbors and friends looked at me with pity. The sheer panic might’ve gone away, but the pain of missing someone so essential to my life hadn’t.
