Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Grandma Rose lies in the bed in front of me, her mind essentially gone, and her body carried only by the machines sustaining it.
She can’t hear me talking, and she can’t give me quips back. She doesn’t even know I’m here, let alone that I got married yesterday.
I rub at the soft skin on the back of her hand and let the tears flow down my cheeks unchecked. My face is swollen and my heart is weak and an incredible pain feels like an acid burn in my stomach.
It took over an hour to get here in the middle of the night, and it was the hardest drive of my entire life. I wasn’t there to help her when the stroke happened; I wasn’t there to race her to the hospital. I wasn’t there at all.
Instead, I was tucked away in a cabin in the woods after secretly running off and getting married. I didn’t even call to tell her the good news, stupidly thinking I’d have plenty of time tomorrow.
“God, I’m so sorry, Grandma.” My voice is choked as I squeeze her hand. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I flinch when a hand lands gently on my shoulder, and I look up to find my grandmother’s best friend standing beside me.
“Thank you so much for being such a good friend, Melba,” I say softly. If they didn’t have a nightly ritual of talking on the phone to gossip about the day, I don’t know how long Grandma would have been there all alone. But when she didn’t answer, Melba drove straight to her house to check.
“If I’d been there, maybe I could’ve—”
Melba squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t do that, honey. The doctors said this thing was a ticking time bomb that none of us could have prevented. They said it would have been fast and that she wouldn’t have even known it was happening.”
My voice is brittle. “And you believe that?”
“I have to.”
I nod. I understand completely. Because thinking the alternative will destroy you.
It’s sure as fuck destroying me.
Clay comes into the room quietly and sets a coffee on the table beside me. I look back and try to smile gratefully, but I know that my expression is hollow. Neither one of us can change how these events transpired, and it’s a helpless feeling.
One that can’t be fixed or made right or explained away.
I know there’s no blame to be placed—but I wouldn’t wish the hell of this hindsight on anyone.
He places a gentle and fleeting kiss to the top of my head and then steps away again, giving me the space to hold Grandma’s hand and work through my feelings myself.
I can’t imagine if he were smothering me with affection or words of encouragement right now, and I’m eternally grateful that he seems to have figured that out.
Melba squeezes my shoulder once more before stepping out of the room too, and I lean forward to touch my cheek to Grandma’s hand.
It’s warm still, thanks to the machines, but all the life it gave before is starkly gone. I can’t believe it’s never coming back.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I whisper again, a fresh wave of tears cascading down to wet the linens at her side. “I’m sorry I went off and got married without telling you. You should’ve been there. And I should’ve been with you. You mean everything to me. You always have. And the thought of doing life without you—”
My voice cuts out, my whole body breaking on a sob.
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
I’m not ready.
But I guess, just like Grandma Rose always told me, I won’t be.
And this time, she was right. When it comes to losing her, I never, ever will be.
29
Clay
Saturday, October 1st
I hold Josie’s hand in mine in the back of the last town car that follows Grandma Rose’s hearse from the church to the cemetery. Our pace over the pavement gently shakes the car back and forth as Josie stares ahead, her face a mask of nothingness despite the screams I know she’s feeling inside.
My heart feels raw from my own mourning, but I smooth on a balm of ignoring it as I care for my wife. She doesn’t talk much, but she cries. In the morning and in the afternoon and at night, her body drains itself through tears shed, and I shove any form of fluid she’ll drink in front of her.
Her face is swollen, all the light of her beautiful green eyes dimmed and fading. I hold strong to her hand and never hesitate to stand tall at her back, waiting for the day she’ll use me and accepting the fate that she might not.
The car rocks to a stop, and Gerry from the funeral home holds the door open to greet us on arrival. Josie doesn’t move, though, her stare so hard I’m almost sure she’s using it to will reality to break.