I can’t stay here a second longer.
“Dwight!” I hear my dad call behind me as I walk down the narrow path towards my car where I left it earlier before the funeral started.
I slide in behind the wheel and start the engine, seeing my dad and my mom in my periphery, standing on the sidewalk, watching as I take off down the street.
∞∞∞
I slam the door and toss my keys onto the table in the hallway and head into the living room, sinking down into the couch, releasing a deep sigh. I press the pads of my thumbs into my temples in an attempt to relieve some of the tension and the throbbing in my head, but it makes no difference.
My heart is pounding in my chest, and I bring my fist down hard on the arm of the chair, once… twice… three times, hitting it harder and harder each time, hoping to release some of the anger inside me.
I glance to my right, where a photograph of Grace and I on our wedding day sits on the table beside the couch and I reach across to pick it up. She was so beautiful, so happy, so full of life. It’s hard to believe that when this photo was taken, we had our whole lives mapped out, our future so long and full of hope, little did we know that that dream would come to a crashing halt only a few years later.
Before today, I could almost trick myself into believing that Grace had gone away to a work seminar out of town, but watching her being lowered into the ground earlier has made everything feel so much more final.
So much more real.
I glance around the room, looking at all of the things that makes up our home, the furniture we picked out together, keepsakes we collected from various vacations, memories of our life together, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like home anymore, not without her. This was all ours, it was nevermine, not really. Each piece of furniture, every colour scheme and decoration, everything down to the tiniest detail was allher. She always had a great eye.
A feeling of discomfort settles into my stomach and it’s then that I realise that I can’t live in this house anymore.
Everything seems so foreign and out of place somehow, including me. I don’t belong here anymore. I feel like a stranger in a foreign land.
If I have any chance of moving on, it certainly won’t happen in this house.
I’m up and out of my chair faster than I can blink, bounding up the stairs two at a time and head into the bedroom, pull out a couple of suitcases from under the bed and toss them onto the mattress with a bounce.
I pull a handful of my clothes off the rail in the wardrobe and throw them into the suitcases, not really paying attention to what I’m packing. I empty the contents of the draws containing the rest of my clothes and throw them in too.
Once I’m satisfied I’ve got everything I need, I zip up the cases and carry them downstairs. Just as I reach the bottom there’s a knock at the door and I heave a sigh as I go to answer it. I’m met with my mom, my dad and Logan on the other side and without a word, I step aside to let them in.
The second they enter the house, I see my dad’s eyes spot the suitcases sat at the bottom of the stairs.
“Son, where are you going?” my dad asks.
“I’ve got to get away for a while. I can’t stay in this house any longer.”
His brows knit. “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know yet, I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Look, let’s just slow down and think this through, okay?”
“I don’t need to, Dad. I need to be alone. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but all I know is that I have to leave.Now.”
“Dwight, please don’t go,” my mom pleads.
Guilt grips me as my eyes turn to my mom, she’s on the verge of tears at the thought of not only losing Grace, who she considered her own daughter, but her only son too. I scrub a hand over my jaw, releasing a long breath and take her hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Mom. I have to.”
“Maybe Dwightshouldgo,” Logan comments. “The past couple of weeks have been hell, he needs time to get his head around everything.”
“Thanks, man,” I tell him, offering him a weak smile before turning to my parents. “Please understand. As long as I stay here, I have zero chance of ever getting over it… overher. I need change.”
My dad nods slowly in understanding, tears welling in his eyes. “If this is what it takes for you to get through this, then I won’t stop you.”
“What will Tori think? You didn’t even say goodbye,” my mom adds.
“Tell her I’m sorry, okay? Give her and Lissy a kiss from me.”
