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Kat’s expression turns serious. “What is it?”
Retrieving the printout of the email I received, I hand it over with shaky hands. I practically hold my breath as she begins to read.
“Holy—”
I quickly reach to cover her mouth, as this is too nice a place to be screeching profanity.
“Does this mean what I think it means?”
“I hope so. But I was so excited I wanted you to make sure I wasn’t imagining the whole thing.”
Kat reads back over the email and then flips the page to check out the copy of the attached form. “Poppy, this looks legit to me.” She’s beaming as if she just won the lottery. I would know I’ve been doing the same since the bathtub. “You’re doing this, right?”
Covering my straining cheeks with my hands, I nod. “I think so.”
Kat dances wildly in her seat just as Rodney approaches.
“The Red Veil too much?”
“No. It’s absolutely perfect.”
* * *
The following morning, I push myself up from the bed and squint at the bright morning light. I only had one glass of wine. So why do I feel like this? Looking at my purse sitting atop the papers I printed for Kat last night, it all comes back to me.
The evening was incredible. Sadly, for Katarina, Nick never made it to the restaurant in time. She said he’d have a lot of making up to do once he met her at their little bungalow in town later that night. Kat had lived there prior to getting married. They now live in a beautiful home on the lake about an hour away, but Nick often stays in town when he’s on call.
Yet despite the fun I had with my friend, I had a terribly sleepless night. As excited as I am to venture on this trip to Jamaica, I’m grappling with the continued feelings of guilt over doing something so grand without my husband. I know it’s complete nonsense to feel this way. It’s the devil doing his due, my mother would say. But I shouldn’t keep living like a nun.
Getting up, I decide a fresh pot of coffee, a hot shower, and a day enjoying the things that bring me peace are in order. I’ve found if I do the things which bring joy, I can often evade the undertow of grief. I’ll catch a Barre yoga class, go for a stroll in the park, and maybe even stop by one of my favorite coffee shops for a pick me up.
But as my daily activities are completed, I still feel marred down with shame that I’m considering going on this lavish trip without him. So, I go to talk to the one person I know won’t judge me.
Walking up to Dan’s headstone, I reach into my pocket for the tissue I’m sure to need. Bending down, I wipe the debris from the area and lay the fresh greenery in front of his marker. “I haven’t been here in a while. They’ve had me doing a lot of overtime this summer. The money’s good, even if I don’t really need it.”I don’t go anywhere.Plus, Daniel’s life insurance is there.
Squatting down to sit beside him, I continue, “I miss you. But I’m struggling, Dan. It’s been years without you. Years.” The tears start to tumble sooner than I’d expected. “I can’t keep living this way.” I dab at my eyes and look about the area to ensure I’m all alone.
“I have some news.” I sniffle. “I won this incredible giveaway at work. It’s an amazing opportunity. I get to go to Jamaica and stay at a luxury resort. I’m a little nervous, going alone. But it’s time to do more than just work every day. As much as I wish you could be there with me, it’s time I start living again.” I leave out that I probably wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to have a romantic tryst with a man I’d never see again. But we don’t need to go there right now.
My eyes scan the area. For a moment, I feel as if I’m being watched. I often have this awkward suspicion when I’m here, but it’s usually just paranoia about crying as if my husband passed away yesterday and not eight years ago. Getting myself together, I try to put a jovial spin on things. “You probably wouldn’t have wanted to go to Jamaica anyway. You were more of a mountains kind of guy.” I laugh through the remaining tears.
As I push myself up from the ground, I decide then and there I need to give Katarina’s counselor a call. She’s right. There’s no timeline to grief, and I won’t beat myself up for it. I’m going to go on this trip and like it, dammit. However, it’s probably way past time I talk things over with someone to see if I can move past this. Because I’d like to have a full and happy life. I’d like to consider starting the foster care process and potentially adopt a child one day. I don’t want to be held back because of this unhealthy feeling of survivor’s guilt.
Lifting my head high, I tell him with an assuredness I didn’t know I had, “I’m doing this soon. I want to do this. No. I need to do this, Dan. I’m not really living here. You’re probably living more than I am,” I choke out. “Watching everything from above. Seeing it all. I’m seeing nothing but this little corner of the world. My job, my mother, our home. It’s not enough anymore.” I sorely underestimated the amount of tissues I’d need for this visit.
Wiping my eyes on my sleeve, I stomp my feet in disgust. How am I still so full of sadness after all of this time? I was so happy last night. Turning my head to the side, a line from one of my favorite movies comes to mind. When George Bailey realizes he’s been given a second chance inIt’s a Wonderful Life.
I want to live again. I want to live again.
As I cross the empty cemetery toward my car, I manage to get my eyes dry enough to feel safe getting behind the wheel. I unlock the car and am about to sit down when I notice a young man. Where had he come from?
I’m sure I’m miscalculating where he’s standing. In all the years I’ve been coming here, I’ve never really paid that much attention to the poor souls who are buried beside Dan. I’m sure he’s visiting them, not my husband. Dan didn’t have any family. He’d grown up raised by his grandmother, who died shortly before I met him.
Sliding onto the hot black leather seat, I quickly turn the ignition and get the air conditioner moving, all the while keeping my eyes trained on the dark-haired boy across the way. He’s tall. I guess he could be an adult. It’s hard to tell from this angle.
After a few moments, the temperature starts to cool, and I back out of the parking space and head home. I was hoping visiting Dan would bring some relief. Yet, instead, I have the oddest sense of unease. Is it the appearance of the young man? Pushing myself to get back out there and experience life? Or the unknowns about this trip?
Whatever it is. I’m ready for it. I’ve lived through tougher stuff than this. I’m ready for a fresh start. And what better place to do that than Jamaica?
