The things I know to be true.
The curves I take, the ground below me, the almost-sticky steering wheel under my fingers. I’m so close to where my heart belongs, or at least where I thought it did. I really thought the only meaning in life was buried here, six feet under, surrounded by all these lifeless graves, filled with memories and loved ones left behind.
The air smells of petrichor and dirt, a clear reminder it’s been raining nonstop for two days. But it did stop, at least long enough for me to walk to them without a drop of rain on my skin.
I fall to my knees, on the wet grass, mud seeping onto my jeans, my fingers touching their names engraved on the limestone.
“Sorry, there are no flowers,” I mutter. “I wasn’t planning on coming here today. I just got in the car, and the roads led me to you.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. What are the odds I found myself talking to people who are not here anymore twice in a week? I need to talk to my therapist about this. It can’t be normal, can it?
Normal is overrated. That’s something I learned from Bella.
Bella.
What the hell was that?
She was so mad. Natalie knew immediately. What made them react like that? What did I know?
What didn’t I know?
“I wish you were here, Mom,” I whisper, tearing my heart apart. All the love I have for this woman slips out in a lone tear falling down my face. “I’ve gone from not knowing what the purpose of living is to being furious at you and at him, to meeting a woman who has singleheartedly changed my life with just her existence, to forgiving you both, to falling in love with her and her family, and now…I think I fucked it up. Sorry, I know how much you hate it when I cuss. Anyways, I don’t even know what I did.”
I let out a breath, and it comes out shaky. “How do I keep living without your sound advice, Mom? How do I make Natalie and her kids my priority if I don’t know how to do that? How do I let go of my fear that I’m going to end up like him and breaktheir hearts? How can I visit you wherever you are and hear your voice one more time? Huh?”
I close my eyes, my tears falling faster than the rain around me. It’s like the sky opened, matching the sorrow I feel all over the place.
“How do I trust I’m enough for them? How do I trust I won’t break their hearts? How do I give them my all without worrying they’ll die too? How do I share my life with them when they have never met a huge part of me? When they never met you two?”
Why did they have to leave me? Why are they not here? Why? Why? Why?
“I wish you were here,” I whisper. “I wish I could hear your voice one more time, or your laugh. I wish this was all a sick dream, that life without you two didn’t exist.”
The sky roars with a thunder that reverberates through me as if it’s Mom herself, reminding me of what she always said: we only feel sorrow when we miss something we once had.
It reminds me that if this isn’t my life anymore, then that means I don’t have Natalie, Bella, or Vero. It means I don’t have people worth cherishing right now. Maybe there’s an alternate reality where I can have it all, but in the meantime, I guess I just have to learn how to carry them with me, even more now that I have a true north.
Suddenly, it’s all clear. How rare and beautiful it is that I was loved so fully; their absence fills my life. How lucky was I that I knew love like theirs, so I could continue carrying it with me? So many contrasting feelings, but they all lead to the same conclusion.
“I love you.” I trace their names and sigh. “I miss you.”
It hits me like a bag of bricks.
Because they loved me, I miss them.
Because they loved me, I know how to love.
Because they loved me, I can’t give up on love. I can’t leave them alone.
I wanted more days than I got with them, and they deserved more, too. More days to laugh, to try, to fail, to cry…to love. I want that almost more than anything. But what a waste of a good life if I keep living in this loop of despair and not allowing this love to enter my life with open arms.
Broken and all.
I kiss their tombstone, getting up and walking the rows until I’m out of this place. She wanted to be buried in her hometown, so here she is, right next to an oak tree in Baker Oaks.
There’s a lone tombstone with a tiny cardinal on it that catches my eye. I’ve never noticed it before, but then again, I don’t come here to look at others often. I wipe the rain off my glasses, narrowing my eyes so I can see better.
Nick Bradshaw,I read, continuing down each line.
