As she went into the house, she hoped they’d assume she was off to powder her nose, but she had no intention of going back outside tonight. Something inside of her felt seriously off, almost on the verge of anger. But what did she have to be angry about? Behind the closed door of her bedroom, she kicked off her sandals and listed all the good things that had come her way this past week.
She had enough money from her renters to pay both her taxes and insurance right now. That alone should make her want to dance. Plus, she had some very interesting housemates to liven up her otherwise drab world. Her house had gotten fixed up a bit by her new tenants. Thanks to them, her backyard was functional and getting better each day. Even tonight, the space looked more festive since someone had strung paper lanterns through the trees. She stuck another finger up when she remembered that Windy had fixed a delicious dinner for them. Despite their differences, they’d even managed to organize her book group. And right now, everyone was out there having a very good time. What was wrong with her?
She sat down in the chair by her bed, picking up a wedding photo she kept on her bedside table. She just stared at it. They’d been so young and innocent back then, vowing their love to last until death parted them, figuring they’d be about a hundred by then. But they vowed again, after Paul got sick, that their love would last throughout eternity. She remembered the times he’dsay those words. Weakened by the brutal illness and useless treatments, numbed by pain pills, walking the fine line between living and dying, he would hold her hand and say, “I’ll love you forever.”
She would always echo those words back to him. How could she not? She would absolutely love him forever! But she suspected that loving someone was easier from up there than from this side of eternity. Not that she fully knew whatup therereally meant. But she did believe in an afterlife. She believed in a God who loved them so much that he’d prepared a beyond-imagination beautiful place for them.
But sometimes, down here in dirty earth shoes, she felt disillusioned and not very loving toward herself or anyone. At the moment, she felt left out and left behind and sad. Similar to when she’d had measles in second grade and missed out on her class field trip to the zoo—times about a thousand! And she couldn’t imagine that Paul could feel like that up in heaven. He was probably having a fabulous time. She should be happy for him instead of having a pity party for one down here.
She’d experienced something of a vision not long after Paul’s death. It had come in a flash one night. It was this amazing image of him all healed and whole. He seemed better than he’d ever been on earth, even in youth. He appeared strong and wonderful, actually glowing. And with wide open arms, she knew he’d be there to welcome her home ... when her time came. It had been heartwarming and unspeakably sweet. But tonight Paul felt so far away, and she just flat-out missed him. And it all felt so unfair.
Perhaps that’s what had made her angry. Her husband was missing ... meanwhile everyone was having such fun in his backyard. She wanted to have Paul right there with her and felt unable to enjoy herself without him.
But he was gone.
She remembered the stages of grief that they’d talked about at the grief group and the way she couldn’t relate to ever feeling angry. Well, that’s exactly how she felt now. Not a raging fury buta slow burn that stole any happiness she might’ve experienced tonight. To enjoy an evening of food and music and dancing in Paul’s favorite place—without him there—had just felt wrong. And she supposed she’d even felt guilty. And that had made her mad ... angry even.
Even so, it didn’t really make sense. After all, Paul was up there dancing in heaven. Isn’t that what everyone told her after he passed? So why shouldn’t she be dancing down here? Except that she just did not feel like it. Not anymore. Perhaps she never would. And she doubted that anyone or anything could change that in her.
She laid the wedding photo face down on the bed and clenched her fists. “Oh, Paul!” She felt hot tears pour down as she stood. “Why did you have to go so soon? Why aren’t you here with me? Why am I left alone and broken?” Pacing back and forth in her bedroom, she felt guilty to think of the party going on out there. She was being a neglectful hostess. But it wasn’t her party. Not really. Windy was the cook. And the other housemates could play host. Riva locked her bedroom door, silenced her phone, and flopped onto her bed with a choked sob. Why was this still so hard? It had been almost eighteen months, and she felt just as miserable as she had that cold December day when Paul had slipped away.
Lying on her back, tears still streaming down the sides of her cheeks, she stared up at the slowly turning ceiling fan overhead, watching it go round and round with blurry eyes.
“I still love you, darling,” she finally whispered. “I will love you forever ... but right now I feel like I’ll miss you forever too.” Then, without getting back up to brush her teeth, wash her face, or even change into pajamas, she closed her eyes ... and cried herself to sleep.
Chapter13
Although Riva felt better in the morning, she still felt a little off-balance. It was barely six, and the house sounded quiet when she tiptoed out. As she walked through her house, everything appeared to be in order, including her kitchen. It was all spotless, and suddenly it felt a little surreal. Like last night never happened, or maybe it was that life had gone on without her. Like maybe she hadn’t even been missed.
She quietly made coffee, then carried a steaming mug outside to see if everything was in order out there as well. It all appeared tidy and picked up. Even the tables had been wiped down. Well, at least she had responsible housemates. Hopefully they weren’t too offended by her mysterious absence. Or perhaps they were having so much fun, they really didn’t miss her.
“Good morning.” Riva startled to see Windy, wearing a floral nightgown, coming outside with a coffee mug. “Do you want to be alone?”
“No, not at all.” Riva set down her mug and moved a lounge chair to catch the morning sunshine. “Pull up a seat if you’d like.”
After they were both situated in the sun, Riva mentioned how clean everything was—even the yard.
“Well, I suspected you weren’t feeling too well last night, so I wanted to be sure it was all cleaned up before morning.”
“Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure. Really.” Windy sighed. “It’s so lovely being in a home like this. I can’t thank you enough for letting me rent your attic.”
“You’re still happy up there?”
“It’s like a slice of heaven.”
Riva frowned. “I was thinking a lot about heaven last night. To be honest, I don’t know what to expect when we get there.”
“But you do believe you’ll get there?”
“God willing and the creek don’t rise.” Riva attempted a smile. “Yes, I do believe I’ll get there. Last night I hoped it would be sooner rather than later.” She looked intently at Windy. “You told me a bit about losing your husband. I’m sorry. I forgot his name.”
“Bill.”
“Yes. And I know it was a traumatic death with the car wreck and all. Can you remind me how long since he died, Windy?”
“Almost seven years.”
