“Ma’am, who else can we call to come by and help out?” He walks over and places a kind hand on my shoulder, though I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything.
I look at my phone and dial my mom’s number because no matter how much we may bicker, she’s my greatest source of comfort.
“Momma?” Heartbreak sends me back to childhood, my voice sounding small and broken.
“Rina? What is it, baby?”
“Momma, they’re saying Craig’s dead, but that can’t be right. He went to work this morning. He’s wearing the tie I gave him for Christmas.” My breathing catches, fear carving a jagged hole in my chest. “He can’t be … he’s just at work. Tell them, Momma. Tell them he’s at work.” My chin quivers, and rivers of tears surge down my cheeks.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Her whispered prayer shatters my glass heart.
“Momma, tell them…” Sobs claw their way up from the depths of my soul. “Tell them…” The phone slips from my hand as my knees give out. I sink to the floor and lose myself to the pain.
I’m only vaguely aware of the officers picking up my phone and placing a blanket around my shoulders. My entire body shivers as my soul bleeds onto the wood floor.
I spend the rest of the day and night wrapped in my mother’s arms.
I’m not aware of the passing of time. There is only pain.
Craig is gone.
My husband.
My love.
He’s gone, and I’ll never be whole again.
Craig’s motheridentified the body. I couldn’t do it. And my father has fought to keep the police away even though he’s been very sick lately. He has joined me at every interview and demanded I not be contacted directly. I’m so grateful for hisprotection right now because simply getting through the day is hard enough. Participating in an investigation only makes everything worse.
One week ago today, my precious husband was murdered.
It was a mugging gone wrong. His wallet and watch were taken. He was stabbed five times.
Five times.
I can’t fathom what would bring a person to do something like that. For what? A few dollars? And now, I’m standing in a cemetery, watching my husband’s body get lowered into the ground.
A week ago, I’d contemplated leaving him. I was frustrated and lonely. What I wanted more than anything was a joint effort to fix things between us. Now that he’s gone forever, I’m riddled with regret and guilt.
None of it seems real.
Every second since the police came to my door has passed in a suffocating fog. A dense haze cuts out all the light with no end in sight, as though the world will forever be saturated in a viscous heartbreak.
The ground clings to my feet, making every step a challenge.
Sleep both courts and rejects me, keeping me shackled to perpetual exhaustion.
And I can’t shake the feeling that a part of me has died with him. As I stare at the box deep in the ground, I know I’ll never be myself again. Not the person I was before. That naive little girl is beside him in the box, as lifeless as the man at her side.
“Are you ready, sweetie?” Mom places a gentle arm around my shoulders.
“Almost. I’d like just a minute alone with him.”
She nods and signals for the rest of the family to give me space. The funeral ended a while ago. Only close family remains. Mostly mine. Craig didn’t have much family. Just his motherand him. She’s even more alone than I am, since she doesn’t have the same support system I do. Craig was her only child. I can’t begin to fathom the pain she must be feeling. Therefore, when she joins me at the gravesite, I allow her to impose on what I was hoping would be a moment for my husband and me.
“He was terrified he’d lose you,” she says, eyes fixed on the distance. Her comment surprises me because I never got the sense he was scared of losing me and because of her almost accusatorial tone.
“He was? He never said anything.”
