Page 17 of Kylie

“We need to take a picture,” Kate informed me.

“Definitely pictures,” Gage agreed before snapping a few dozen as the kids posed with their attempt at a snowman … or rather, snowmommy, as Kate was referring to it.

I didn’t think this was a turning point—not by a long shot—but it was baby steps. And I had to think that one day we might be able to move forward.

As much as it still hurt, I knew that we needed this.

Gage

“It’s gettin’ worse,” I told Travis when I joined him in the living room a few hours later.

After our outdoor excursion, we gathered the kids back inside, warmed them up with hot chocolate and vanilla wafers. Now the kids were doing their own thing, Maddox and Haden having gone down for a nap, Kate, Avery, and Kade working on bead jewelry at the little art table we’d set up in the corner.

“We’re lucky to still have power,” Travis said, motioning to the television.

On the screen, a reporter was talking about thousands being without power and water, urging people to stay home if at all possible. Austin had all but shut down in its attempt to accommodate. The schools that had shifted to virtual learning to keep kids home were now shutting down completely due to the power outages. Businesses were doing the same in an attempt to keep their employees safe.

We’d been lucky that we only had a few guests remaining at the resort, and we’d been able to cancel anyone coming in this week, but because flights had been canceled in and out of the area, those remaining few were stuck. However, from the updates I was getting as we all rotated to manage the place, no one seemed to mind. As long as we maintained power, I figured. If that went out and the generators failed, I doubted the guests would be all that pleasant.

“I moved the buckets of snow into the kitchen,” I said. “Figured it might melt that way on its own.”

We had decided we would start melting snow to use for flushing the toilets since the water had gone out completely an hour ago. No one seemed to know when it would come back on.

“I could’ve helped,” Travis said, glancing over at me.

I shrugged as though it was no big deal.

We sat quietly for a few minutes, something that had become the norm for us. The past month had proven painful for everyone as we attempted to come to terms with Kylie being gone. It wasn’t easy, that was for sure. The kids had nightmares, waking up crying for their mother often. I wasn’t getting much sleep either, lying in our bed by myself. Part of me understood why Travis couldn’t go into our bedroom. It certainly wasn’t easy, but I needed it. Being in there allowed me to remember that connection.

During daylight hours, it was a little easier. The kids had their good days and bad. Taking cues from the therapist, Travis and I were suggesting little projects for the kids. Drawing pictures of their favorite memories with their mom, hanging them on the refrigerator. Making craft projects—paper flowers, beaded bracelets—they planned to put on Kylie’s headstone the next time we went to visit.

We were dealing in our own ways.

It was still hard to believe it had been a month since the funeral. It felt like just yesterday. The only difference was that it was getting easier to breathe, to make it a few hours without feeling the unbearable pain. Time would heal us, of that I was certain, but I doubted we would ever be whole again.

When it was clear Travis was going to remain glued to the television so he didn’t have to interact, I got to my feet.

“I’m gonna make SpaghettiOs for lunch. And I’ll scrounge up some candles just in case.”

Travis nodded. “I was thinkin’ I’d start a fire.”

And that was the extent of our conversation for most of the day. We spent the afternoon coloring with the kids, watching movies, and playing video games. From the outside looking in, it would appear we were a highly functioning family, but I knew it was all to keep from thinking about Kylie.

As usual, Travis was dealing with work, taking phone calls, checking in to ensure everything was being handled at the resort. I left him to it, figuring it was what he wanted and needed. He was keeping himself separate as much as possible, more so from me than the kids, and I was attempting to respect that.

But when Travis had disappeared after dinner, not coming back even after the kids were situated in front of the television and their iPads, I went to look for him.

I wasn’t surprised to see him sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the desk.

No. Not the desk. He was looking at a white envelope that sat neatly on top of his leather blotter.

I stepped into the room. “What is that?”

His eyes shot up to me as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. His hand immediately went to the envelope, covering it.

“Travis?” I watched my husband closely, saw the guilt on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s a letter,” he finally said as I approached.