AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But then again, I had no idea what I’d committed to with ‘in sickness and in health’ either.
Not that it would’ve changed anything. There was nowhere else I’d be but by Dan’s side during that awful ordeal. Even if I felt more like his caregiver than his wife.
Losing Dan was incredibly painful, but I tried to find solace in knowing he was finally at peace. He was no longer this larger-than-life man trapped in a broken shell of a body.
For the first few years, I mourned his absence. The next, I grieved for all of the dreams we’d lost. For the last few years, I’ve simply felt sorry for myself.
I had it all. I was blessed to meet Dan during my freshman year of university. Other than a brief breakup when he was concerned we were getting serious too quickly, we were together for the remainder of our college years and married not long after graduation. We quickly moved into a swanky townhouse and enjoyed traveling and all the perks of our new salaries. We were living the life.
Dan accepted a job with a well-known retail chain that sold outdoor adventure gear. He worked hard and eventually became a regional sales manager. His job kept him on the road a lot, but that came to an end with the onset of his weakness.
The company was very supportive, but it wasn’t feasible for him to continue in his current role selling camping and rock-climbing equipment when he required braces or a walker to get from one side of the store to the other.
Dan and I had talked about children. We wanted to wait until he wasn’t on the road as much. But that dream was short-lived when all our attention moved to keeping him well.
There are days I wish we would’ve tried despite his heavy travel schedule. I might still have a piece of him here with me. Yet, in hindsight, I know there’s no way I would’ve been able to manage both a toddler and Dan’s needs.
I can’t help wondering what our children might’ve looked like. Dan was so handsome. With his inky black hair and blue eyes, he drew attention wherever he went. I was proud to be the one he chose. Trying to picture a child walking between us, I wonder. Would our son or daughter have had his dark hair or been blonde, like me?
“You know, you’re right. It’s been a long, painful process. But I need to rejoin the living. And foster care isn’t something I’ve ever considered before.”
“Well, regardless of whether something comes of it, I hope you’ll give it some thought. Even if you get qualified to foster, you aren’t obligated until you’re ready.” I watch as Kat tucks into her eggs and realize I’ve been so distracted over thoughts of yesteryear I’ve completely missed the server bringing our meals. “Are you doing anything for yourself?”
I reach for my spoon, the yogurt in front of me no longer as appetizing as I’d hoped before this conversation began. “What do you mean? I meditate, go to the gym, yoga classes, swim.”
“That’s good. But do you do anything fun? Anything that gets you excited?”
“Ha.” I laugh sarcastically. It’s been a while since I’ve been excited about anything. “No. Not really.”
Katarina puts down her fork. “Poppy. I get it. And there’s never any judgment from me. I shunned men and only focused on volunteering and working for years. But you’re too young to live every day as a grieving widow. You need to find some way to bring joy back into your life.” She picks up her utensils and digs back in. “Have you seen a counselor? For all of the things you’re still struggling with?”
I put my spoon down. There’s no sense in forcing this meal. My appetite is gone. “I did for a while right after Dan died. But I felt like all I did was cry. It didn’t solve much.” Heck, I could cry at home for free. Seemed like a waste of time and mascara to keep going back there. “And I tried a grief support group. But the first time a widower asked me if I wanted to grab coffee was the last time I went.”
Kat cringes. “My friend, Melanie, is going through something similar right now. I’d connect the two of you, but her situation is still so new.” Kat picks up another strawberry, turning it around inquisitively in her fingers. The thing resembles a small apple. It’s huge. “It’s so hard to know what to say or how to help. I’m trying to give her space, but be in the background if she needs me.”
My heart aches for Melanie. The early years are so tough. I’m no longer suffering from the bone-aching pain I initially did. Yet, I still feel numb. It’s like I’m trapped in limbo somehow. “That’s really all you can do. And pray.”
Kat nods before taking a bite of the enormous berry. “You used to love to travel. And didn’t you like to do pottery back in the day?”
“Yeah. But I couldn’t imagine traveling alone. And I guess I let the pottery get away from me. It’s not a bad idea. Finding a class.”
“Well, start with that, but I think taking a trip would be good for you. Go somewhere new. Take walks, go to the spa, read, or cry if you need to.” All of a sudden, she puts down her half-eaten strawberry and begins to clap. “Ooh, maybe you could have a holiday tryst.”
I’d pretend to be shocked, but I’ve considered as much myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the touch of a man. In the beginning, there was just no desire. Then, I had so much guilt about it. Finally, I was so lonely I drove to the beach for the night and met someone off Tinder at a bar. I was so desperate to feel anything. I just wanted to know I was still alive. But it was a disaster.
I had to be completely intoxicated to have the nerve to sleep with him. Then, once things got hot and heavy, I burst into tears. The guy was so eager to get it on he ignored me and finished the job before slinking out. I think I must’ve taken twenty showers trying to rid the feeling of disgust from my skin that night.
There have been a couple of other attempts over the years, ones with fewer tears. Yet the experiences felt much like eating something you know is bad for you. Each time, I regretted the decision before the night was over.
“I want you to do me a favor.” My head pops up to find Katarina looking intent.
“Um, okay. What?”
She pulls out her cell phone and types something rapidly.
Ding.
Reaching into my purse, I retrieve my phone and notice she’s sent me a phone number via text. “Who’s this?”
