Remembering Phoenix (33 page)

OCTOBER 15, 2015

To say time heals all wounds would be a disservice to all of those who mourn.

Time doesn’t heal.

Time strengthens.

Over time, we learn to cope, we learn to deal. But healing would require letting go of everything you need to heal from. And getting rid of such things means forgetting, and that isn’t an option I’m willing to live with.

There is so much I’ve learned about life since I first met Charlie McGee.

Two years ago, on this very night, I barged into this same bar, looking to drink my sorrows away. I don’t know why I stole those shots from her, when I could have waited thirty seconds and ordered my own. But damn, I’m glad I did.

I never would have imagined life would have brought us back together in the way it did—with our siblings’ marriage. And I never would have imagined someone so beautiful, so absolutely perfect, would turn out to be so broken on the inside, fighting demons I couldn’t compete with.

Charlie’s pain went far deeper than I ever could have imagined, and although I hate that it got to the point it did, I learned so much from it. I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible. I learned just how unbreakable someone could be, even when the world tries breaking you.

I stare at the two shots in front of me and push one to the side, waiting for someone to come swoop it up like I did two years ago. I pick up one shot, putting the amber colored liquor to my lips. As soon as I’m about to pour it back, someone sits directly beside me. I bring the shot glass from my lips, setting it down, and slowly turn my body to face them.

I smile.

She smiles back.

It’s a silent promise spoken with a single glare.

We both pick our shot glasses up and hold them out for a toast.

Weakness breeds strength. I know because I’ve lived it. I’ve been at the lowest of lows, and once you’re so far down, there’s either death or triumph. I straddled that line for days upon days.

Thank God death didn’t win, because looking back, I wasn’t anywhere near ready for her. But depression and pain and agony, it clouds your vision where all you see is black. There will be days where the darkness moves away, but it never stays away for long. At least that’s the way it was for me back then.

I let my depression control me instead of me controlling my depression.

It’s an ugly thing to be alive without ever living. It’s an even uglier thing to want out, to
need
out, in order for your demons to go away. When you can’t get a hold on your depression, it’s like being blind with eyes wide open. Everything is right there in view, yet you see absolutely nothing but darkness.

I was drowning while holding on to the life raft. No could save me. I had to save myself.

It’s been a long road to recovery. Every day is a battle, but every day I wake up and smile because I’m alive, and my memories keep me holding on when the darkness comes knocking at my door.

Memories.

Every single one of them came back to me, like a tidal wave of life and love, happy and sad, and everything in between.

My son.

His first breath.

His first word.

His first steps.

His first birthday.

Every little detail I’ve longed and ached for every single day since I woke up after my accident is here. It’s in my heart and soul. It’s alive in my mind. The memories are so vivid that, when I close my eyes, it seems completely tangible. I can hear, touch, smell, and taste everything revolving around a certain memory. I spent so long yearning for my memories, that when I finally got them, I couldn’t believe it. I remember dreaming about Phoenix at the park, even though I’m still unsure it was just a dream. Then, I heard Slayter’s voice, and I knew that, even though Phoenix will always be on my mind and in my heart, I belonged with him.

When I think back over my life the past four years, I don’t regret a thing. I’m not proud of how far down into darkness I let myself become. Even admitting how depressed I was is a hard reality to face. It’s a truth I’ll have to live with, but as long as I’m living, I’ll accept that.

To say I don’t have my bad days would be a lie. The difference between the Charlie I am now and the Charlie I was then is… well… everything.

I’m no longer suffocated by the shit life threw at me. I no longer wallow in self-pity, too consumed by grief to crawl out. I no longer drown in the waters, I walk on them.

I still mourn. Every single day I mourn, but I let my sorrow help others instead of kill my soul.

I still think a shrink was the biggest waste of my time. There wasn’t a single thing I ever learned in that office that helped me deal with living with grief and depression. What does help me, though, is other people. People, like me, who are hurting with no one else around them who understand.

That’s why six months ago I created
Phoenix’s Haven
, a group of people from all walks of life, all kinds of heart ache, who just need to talk to someone who understands what it’s like battling depression. We meet weekly. Most people come every Thursday. We listen. We give advice. We tell our stories. Our fears. We don’t judge.

The thing about depression is, although we know we have it, it’s often-times too difficult to admit to others. It’s not something those who battle it enjoy. It’s not a flag we want to wave around. But in
Phoenix’s Haven
, we can wave that flag, because everyone battles their own demons of depression, and we are all there for one common goal—to conquer.

I open the door of the black brick building and walk inside. The smell of liquor settles all around me. Sliding my phone in my clutch, I walk towards the bar. My heart beats faster with every step I take, every step one step closer to him. Sliding onto the empty stool, I notice as soon as he senses me.

He turns his head towards me and smiles.

I smile back.

We both pick up our shot glasses. They dangle in the air like hope on a string.

“Here’s to life,” I start. “Here’s to the man who never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself. Here’s to the life I’ve come to love and appreciate. Here’s to memories. May they forever be engrained into my soul. Here’s to Phoenix, the biggest part of my soul. My reason for existing. As long as I live, I’ll live for him.”

“Here’s to the journey of us,” he says. “May we never forget what made us who we are today. Here’s to our future—together. Let’s never forget that as long as we have each other, we have everything. And here’s to the greatest woman I’ve ever known. Your strength is immeasurable. Your beauty is incomparable. I love you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you for every tomorrow to come.” We clink our glasses together. “I’ve got you, Charlie.”

We both pour our shots back and slam the empty glasses on the bar.

I can’t help the smile that plasters across my face. I am completely enamored with this man. Every day he loves me. Every day he shows me how much he cares. Every day he makes me fall more and more in love with him. I lean in and gently brush my lips with his before saying, “I love you, too. And thank you. Thank you for being my light. It’s so easy to love someone in their brightest hours. It’s hard to love when someone is under the veil of darkness. You loved me in my dark, and helped me find my light. Thank you for helping me remember. I owe my life to you, Slayter Beck.”

I stare into those stone gray eyes.

Staring back at me is my hope. Strength. Love.

He brings his hand up, cupping it around the nape of my neck, while fiddling with my ring—a single black diamond. “Now, I’m going to kiss you, Mrs. Beck.” Our lips collide together, forgetting every other bar patron around us. He consumes every single piece of me. Our kiss is a promise. To me. To him. To us. To our future.

Two years ago to this day, I first laid eyes on this man, never knowing where that would lead us. Two years later, we have lived, loved, laughed, cried, and even nearly died. But his love, his strength, his undying faithfulness to me, got me through.

I remember thinking I would never get married. Back then I couldn’t. I was never in the right frame of mind. Depression clouded my vision. It was a constant shade from the sun, which was just begging to break through. I wasn’t trying to fight it back then. I was trying to mask it, pretend it didn’t exist, but every day it crept its way into the forefront of my mind—eating away at every morsel of strength within me.

Depression is a thief. It steals your joy, your excitement. Most of all, it steals your soul. But a thief can be defeated.

Slayter’s love is more than I ever deserved back then. I didn’t deserve his love because I didn’t love myself. But, every day I get better, I grow stronger. Every day I’m becoming closer to the woman I long to be.

I’ll get there. I’m getting there.

I’ll have my bad days, but I’ll make it through. Depression might try to pull me under again, but it won’t win. Because every day my will comes from my son, my husband, and my family. When darkness knocks, trying to reenter my life, I’ll smile, knowing it will never come in.

I’m a survivor. Depression tried killing me, but it didn’t win.

Life may hurt me, it might even knock me down again, but I’ll get back up. If I ever get back to that place of feeling completely defeated, I’ll always find my strength in remembering Phoenix.

If you, or someone you know, might be contemplating suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

1-800-273-8255

First off, I want to say how close to my heart this story is. Writing it was equivalent to bleeding out the deepest parts of my soul that I’ve kept locked away for so long. As a high schooler, in spite of a good home and school life, I dealt with my own demons, threatening to drag me under. She’s no longer on this earth, but my mother saved me. I have her to thank for bringing me into this life, and keeping me from teetering over the edge. I haven’t always been proud of the person I was, but I am proud of who I am today because I fought to become her.

Now that is out of the way, I have so many other people to thank for getting this book to life.

My husband and children
- You are the light of my life. You bring me more joy than I could ever explain. If I wrote a dictionary, the definition for happy would have every one of your names beside it, because you are my happy. J, thank you for pushing me to be the best version of myself. Thank you for believing in this dream of writing a book. If it weren’t for you I never would have written the first one. You are my soul mate, and I’m so glad I get to grow old with you. My children, I love you. You make me prouder than I could ever express. I hope you always believe in yourself as much as I believe in each one of you.