Vital Sign (26 page)

June 29, 2013

I guess the funny thing about grief is that it has a way of dictating so damn much.

If you let it.

And that’s what I have done for so long. Too long.

I had
dismissed myself into the shadow of loss to disappear there because the bright light of my reality was far too much for the eyes that had seen so much, that had cried so many tears. I retreated into the caverns of my dimly lit existence and stayed there to keep company with invisible wounds, sure that I was far too weak to do battle with my opponent.

Then there was Zander. He slipped into my darkness and beckoned me out into the light to face reality. Not because he lured me there. Not because he enticed me.
Not because he forced me. No. Zander summoned me without even knowing it. He gave me the courage to realize that the wholeness that fills me when I’m with him is so much more powerful than the guilt and sadness that I’ve insisted on carrying for so long. I’ve refused forgiveness and in turn have endured the torture of self-punishment. No one is capable of punishing a person quite like they’re capable of punishing themselves.

I’ve been cruel and unkind to me.

I picked on Sadie Parker, the girl who once had a carefree, artistic spirit. I despised her. I think I only envied her. I was angry that she had gone and I thought that wherever she’d retreated to was out of reach for the shell she’d left behind. I made myself sad and bitter and angry at the world around me for no reason other than misery loves company, I suppose. I forgive me, though. I forgive me. I forgive me. I forgive me. Everyone needs forgiveness, even from themselves. Maybe…
mostly
from themselves.

Only I am capable of giving myself that gift and so I have.
I’m working on it. I’m doing battle against the darkness. I’m doing battle against the two years that I spent allowing myself to be miserable and dragging everyone around me down into the pits of my personal hell.

I wish I could write a letter to myself and drop it in the mail, s
ure that wherever the old me had moved on to, she’d get it. She’d read it and know that I intend on righting my wrongs. Starting with Zander. I have two years of my history to rewrite and it’s all in hopes that when I see him again, I’ll be a woman worth loving. He deserves that. He deserves all of me. I may not deserve him, but I have to try.

***

I toss Jackson into the air and he squeals in delight, his baby blue eyes sparkling, his huge grin showing off all eight of his little baby teeth. He’s getting bigger and it makes me sad that it’s taken me so long to be the happy, doting, spoiling aunt that my sweet nephew deserves. I try not to beat myself up over it, though. I’ve done enough damage to myself.

“Oh honey, Aunt Sadie loves you so much. You know that
, right?” I ask, my lips pressed to his pudgy little cheek.

He giggles and babbles something or another. I’m still trying to earn my degree in “babble
.” He has grown a little since the last time I saw him and it makes me profoundly aware that he’s moving right into the toddler stage even though I missed so much of the infant stage.

“
Taydee—tuppee,” he babbles and I look to Jenna for a lifeline here.

“What?” I whisper to her.

“He said Sadie cuppy. He wants his juice,” she explains, pointing to his toddler cup on the counter.

I mouth “oh” and waste no time getting the juice for him. He squirms on my hip
, ready to be free, and I set him down to rediscover the dining room that he has seen a thousand times. He toddles away in his unbalanced fashion and I smile, watching.

“I guess I have to get going
,” I say with a sigh. “Said I’d be in session today. But give me a call when you ask Taylor about date night. I’ll keep him as long as I’m free.”

“I will. Maybe I’ll get laid
.” She winks and I feign disgust.

“Oh…oh
, God… I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. That’s gross, Jen. I don’t need to picture my brother-in-law dishing out tube steak to my sister. Gross,” I joke as I toss my purse over my shoulder and begin digging for my keys.

“Yeah
, yeah, yeah.” She waves her hand dismissively.

I wrap my arms around her and give her a peck on the cheek.
“See ya later, babe.”

“See
ya.”

I
check my cell phone as I turn the ignition.

Nothing.

No text. No missed calls. God, I miss him. I know that I told him to leave me alone. I made myself clear and I hadn’t given him any guarantees. I asked him to go away and have hope. I asked him to have faith that I’d make it back to him. I asked him to have faith that I could let go of Jake so that I could give myself to him fully. I asked a man who thinks himself unworthy of so much to take a backseat to my deceased husband. Looking back on it now, I asked him for so much. Too much. Maybe I should have tried to take this journey with him at my side. I know I wouldn’t have done it, though. Not fully. Not in the way that I needed to. I needed to be here in Atlanta. I needed to be with my family and let them know that I
am
sorry and I’m taking the right steps to be the Sadie they used to know. I needed to go to the group therapy sessions and actually listen instead of ridiculing everyone else there. I needed to say thank you. I needed to give hugs not just receive them. I needed to face all of Jake’s belongings. I needed to show not just my family, but myself, that I’m a lot stronger than I give myself credit for. I needed to do more showing than saying and that’s what this is all about. I want so badly to open the next chapter of my life with Zander, but I can’t move on to the next chapter until I finish up this one.

“Hey, Joel,” I say to the therapist that I once cussed out. I still cringe when I think about it.

“Hey, Sadie. Ready?”

“Yep.” I nod as I take my seat directly across from him in the circle of thirteen chairs that will seat twelve plus Joel.

People start filing in. Most of them are familiar
, except there’s someone new this week. My heart aches when I see the familiar haunted eyes and stricken expression of loss. She’s got sandy blonde hair and must be my age, but she could pass for a year or two older, in her state. She shuffles reluctantly to a seat. I fight against my urge to motion her to the seat beside me; I know better than anyone that she isn’t open to listening to anyone. The white nametag sticker on her shirt says “Caroline” in barely legible writing.

“Okay, everyone get settled, we
’re ready to begin,” Joel announces, looking at his wristwatch.

I allow myself to watch her carefully from where I
’m sitting. She has her arms crossed over her chest and slouches back in the folding chair. It’s the universal posture of someone who’s closed off to the world around them.

“Everyone, today we have a new
friend with us. Everyone say hi to Caroline.”

Everyone gives their hello, hey
, or hi, lacking enthusiasm. Caroline tilts her head, giving a little nod with her chin.

“We
’re going to begin today on a positive note. I want everyone to share something about their loved one that always made you laugh, whether it be something they said, or did, or maybe something that happened to them. Let’s go clockwise around the circle.” Joel nods his head at the barely-senior man to his left, whose scribbled nametag says “Dave.”

“Oh, um, Susan, my wife, she uh,”
Dave pauses to quietly chuckle to himself, “she made this teriyaki noodle stuff and I hated it. It was…
bad
. But I pretended to love the stuff. I just wanted to make her happy, so I dealt with the
one
meal that I didn’t like. So she kept making it. Years passed and finally our son ratted me out. He told her that no one liked that teriyaki stuff and she just looked at me with wide eyes. I thought I was in the dog house for sure, but she just smiled and slumped her shoulders forward and said, ‘Thank God! I hate that stuff too! I only made it because I thought you liked it!’ We laughed so hard that night over pizzas that we had delivered.” He sighs and wipes the mix of happy and sad tears from his eyes. Quiet laughs comes from the circle in all directions.

I regard Caroline from across the circle
; she is unmoved. She doesn’t smile or laugh, just stares at the floor in front of her. The woman sitting next in the circle begins to tell her story. Everyone laughs at something she has said and I watch as Caroline gets more and more agitated. She’s ready to walk out.

She stands up and dismisses herself from the group without explanation. I glance over to Joel and hold up a finger
, letting him know that I’ll be right back. With my purse hanging on my shoulder, I find Caroline leaning up against the building just outside the door. I don’t ask to join her, I just walk over and claim the space beside her. I don’t necessarily need it, but I dig through my purse for the emergency smokes that I’ve made sure to keep around. I pull one from the pack for myself and then flick one out towards her. She glances down at it and then to me.

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

“No worries. It’s my emergency pack. I’ve made sure to keep a fresh pack in my purse since my husband died,” I explain as I cup my hand and light her cigarette for her.

She inhales deeply and relaxes against the brick.
That looks familiar.

“People suck,” she mutters. I
know it’s her way of explaining why she ditched the group therapy.

“Yeah. They do. Most of the time. But,” I lift
my cigarette to my lips and take a drag, letting it burn my lungs before I exhale the smoke, “sometimes people get it right. You know?”

“No.”

“You will. I have a friend named Dawn and she was the first person who didn’t suck after my husband died. It took a while, but I don’t think everyone sucks anymore. Life can suck. People can suck too, but it’s equal parts shitty and good.” I nod, content with my explanation, and we both take another puff of our cigarettes. I dig for a pen and scribble my cell phone number down on the pack of smokes then hand them, along with the lighter, to Caroline. “Here. Just in case,” I explain with a knowing, rueful smile.

Just in case she needs an emergency cigarette.

Just in case she needs an emergency friend who has travelled the same road she’s on.

Just in case.

Her eyes give all the thanks needed and I flick the cherry from the end of my cigarette then toss the filter into the trash can by the door on my way back in to therapy. I can’t really even decide who helped who just now. Seeing her that way, in such a familiar state of being, bolsters my courage to press on. It gives me even more resolve to focus more on the good in my life instead of the parts that suck.

***

July 1, 2013

“Okay
, Mrs. Parker, since you’ve already paid in full for this month, service is scheduled for disconnect at the end of this billing cycle, which is in four days. Is there anything further that I can assist you with today?”

“No
, that will be it. Thanks.”

“Thank you for calling Go Mobile. Have a nice day.”

I hang up and shove my cell phone in the back pocket of my shorts. I slip my hand into my front pocket and pull out a small, black velvet jewelry bag. My heart shudders and I fight to keep the trembling to a minimum. With a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, I find the courage somewhere inside to take the rings off that Jake put on. I bite back a strangled sob as the white gold bands slip easily off my thin ring finger. With uneven breaths, I drop them into the small velvet bag, tug the string, closing the bag tightly, and slip it into my front pocket before I can change my mind. I trace the tan line across my ring finger and take in another shaky breath, feeling heartbroken but proud of myself. I turn on my heels, taking one more look around my empty house. The boxes are gone. The furniture that I wanted to keep has been stored. I donated a good portion of my household things to the church I grew up attending. The Ladies Auxiliary Club helps struggling families and I know that someone will appreciate the things that I can’t hold on to anymore. They’ll appreciate the things that Jake’s hard-earned money bought. I think he’d be glad to know that he has helped someone else.

I take one last stroll through the home that I shared with Jake. I remember him chasing me down the hallway to our room. I remember him walking into our bathroom and joining me in the shower for lazy Sunday lovemaking. I remember us dancing in the empty living room to no music the day that we bought the modest little house that we
’d planned to live in for so long. I remember him working hard to transform the garage into my personal studio. I remember him tripping when he carried me over the threshold for the first time. We fell in a heap onto the floor in the front doorway and laughed so hard we both had tears seeping from the corners of our eyes.

Tears pool in my eyes
, but they aren’t all sad tears. They’re a mix, I guess. Tears of loss and happiness. Tears of joy and grief. Tears full of memories, good and bad. Tears of hope. That little part of me that hopes steps forward and dominates every emotion. I run my fingers over the light switch and turn the lights off for the last time. I shut the door and tuck the keys into the lock box the real estate agent attached to the handle of the front door. I shut the little door on the box, leaving the keys to our house locked safely inside. I turn and make my way into the front yard over to the oak tree. Our initials are still carved there, staking our claim, memorializing a chapter in my life when I was happily married to the boy who stole my heart when I was just a carefree little girl. Jacob Parker will always have that little girl’s heart. But the woman I am now has given her heart to a man that lives in lonely beach house in Tybee Island, Georgia, and I plan on giving him the rest of me. I just hope he still wants me.

I sigh deeply and pull the little package from my purse
, stuffing it into the mailbox. I send it off with a silent prayer that when it reaches its destination, it will be received with an open heart.

***

July 4, 2013

The sun has scattered its essence across the horizon
, boasting pinks and purples and glowing oranges. The fireworks will be peppering the sky soon.

My feet graze across the windblown sand with each easy stride. I take my time as I make my way north up the beach, soaking up my surroundings. I let the calm that I feel here in this place wash over me, bolstering my courage. I feel, smell, hear, taste, and watch everything around me. Seagulls call in the distance. The water is calm t
oday. Whitecaps slosh on the surface, then settle down into the water from which they were conceived. The air is heavy and laced with the subtle taste of salt. The gritty warmth of the sand beneath my bare feet feels nice. I stop for a second and wiggle my toes down into the sand. My head tilts back as far as it will go and I turn my face skyward so that the barely there rays of sunlight can warm my cheeks.

I right my head, facing forward again
, and take one step. One step is all I can take. One. The sight of Zander walking down the beach towards me stills my resurrected heart. He walks with long, relaxed strides. His body isn’t tensed, but his eyes are. My poor black sheep. I love him so much. He comes to a stop only a foot or two away from me. His hair flicks in the light sea breeze, making my fingers itch to run them through his cinnamon strands.

“You came back,” he states more than asks.

“I never left, Zander. Not really.”

He sweeps me up against him and breathes deep. His arms are so tight around me that I can’t fill my lungs completely. “God
, I missed you.” He whispers his confession like it hurts and I know that it does. I know how he feels. “You said you love me.”

“I do
,” I assure him. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too
, baby. More than you’ll ever know.” He sets me to my feet and brushes a loose tendril of hair off my cheek. The sea breeze lifts and holds it back. I bring my palms to his cheeks. We both lean in and kiss each other with as much love and passion as we can. “Let’s go home, Slim.” He smiles a perfectly crushing boyish grin and I fall in love with him all over again.

“Okay.”

I think I’ve always been on my way to Alexander McBride. My journey has been tumultuous and unbearable at times, but I’ve stayed the course. I’ve run, crawled, walked, and stalled along the way, but I’ve never been on my way to anywhere else except right here. My perfectly imperfect Zander is my truth and my destination. He’s my home. He’s my proof of life.

My vital sign
.

I’ve been pushed, squeezed
, and cornered all the way to him. Always to him, my vital sign.