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No, he’s dead. Gone would indicate that he would be back again one day. And that fact was the razor blade that cut endlessly through my aching soul again and again as I pulled in another breath and held it.
I felt a colossal lump in my throat as my tears streamed down my face. Still staring up at the ceiling, I ignored the sting on my cheeks. I had no will to move from that spot. I was comfortable, warm, and had absolutely no intention of leaving. There was nothing outside that door that I wanted. Behind it represented the future, and I was more than happy to pretend it didn’t exist.
I was a widow. God, I didn’t even have to time to earn that title. Oh and God, where were you and why didn’t you save him!
I gripped the carpet in my hands, pulling at it as the burn overtook me and I lost myself again to my grief, my sobs uncontrollable. I didn’t want to be there at my parents’ house. I didn’t want them to hear me cry. I felt like I needed to scream over and over but I didn’t because I knew what it would do to my parents, to my brother and sister. No, I couldn’t even grieve the way my soul was begging me to.
Grief, what a shitty word for what this feels like. They should rename it.
Agony wasn’t even a decent enough word.
Hell couldn’t even touch this.
And still the word death fit perfectly.
“You took me with you,” I whispered to him again. “I can’t do this, Grant. I can’t.”
As a child, I had conjured an amazing story in my mind. It was a story I could retell about a man that would move me like no other; a story about the way we met and how he had swept me off my feet. But, the ending to that fairytale was so far from the reality. It involved years of a happy marriage and endless memories...not months. No one will want to hear our story now.
Grant and I fell in love in a lightning strike. It dissipated just as quickly as it struck, gone in a blink of an eye. Life had given us a great big period at the beginning of our sentence, and now I had a life sentence to serve without him.
No, no one will want to hear the end of our story. It will sadden them, make them come up with awkward words of half-assed condolence because they don’t have any fucking idea how bad this feels. Or maybe they do and they won’t want to relive it when they look at me. Either way, it was too short. There isn’t much to tell. But my heart and mind protested in that instant because I’d felt full with him. And as I lay on my parents’ bathroom floor, my mind swirled as I gripped and clung to every memory that flashed past me, pulling it close to my aching chest.
“Please, stop beating,” I begged my heart then addressed my mind. “Shut it off. Please, just shut it off.”
“Rose?”
It was Dallas. I turned my head to look at the door but remained silent. I was sure she’d heard me, and I was almost positive she’d been sitting outside the door the whole time.
“Rose, you’ve been in there for six hours. I swear to God I want to leave you alone, but I can’t. I can’t. Please open the door.”
Ignoring her plea, I lifted my hands and stared at them. These hands would eventually be able to reattach pieces of human flesh in the intricate way of a skilled surgeon. They would repair damage to vital organs. They could eventually fix the heart so it beat rhythmically. That would be my gift. At one point, I thought it was the only one I would get. I was fine with it. My heart didn’t know any differently. It needed no repair. I could laugh now at the pain I thought loving David caused. It was completely insignificant in that moment. I’d mourned nothing.
But this...this was what it was truly supposed to feel like, the finality, the loss of the largest piece of yourself. This was what it meant to have your heart broken.
No, the damage to my heart was done by the second gift I’d been given, and now, no matter how skilled my scalpel became or how sharp I remained in mind, I couldn’t do a damn thing about the damage to my own heart. My hands were useless.
No, I was never leaving this room.
“Mrs. Parker,” I heard Dallas sob. I knew she was trying her best to make sure I didn’t hear her hushed conversations, but I did. Thankfully, I was numb to them. “This is Dallas Whitaker...there’s been an accident.” Dallas’s voice cracked as she tried her best to remain strong as she went through my guest list to inform each and every person that expected to attend our wedding in a few days that the groom had passed. And instead of a wedding, they would have to attend a funeral. I loved Dallas more in those moments because I could hear the heartbreak in her voice for Grant. She was feeling his loss deeply, not only because she loved him, but because she loved me. It brought me a strange comfort to hear her strangled conversations. “Grant’s passed and, of course, the wedding . . .” There was a pause as shock registered to the caller, followe
d by what I was sure was the inevitable plea to pass on condolences.
Another fucking stupid word.
“I will let her know,” I heard Dallas pause then plead with my mother in the kitchen, probably cupping her hand over the phone as Mrs. Parker wept. “Mom, I can’t do this anymore.” I heard my mother’s voice immediately.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker, Dallas is a bit upset. Yes, of course, I’ll relay the message to Rose.”
But my mother wouldn’t relay anything because she knew I didn’t want to hear words of condolence. I pulled the quilt I’d been comforting myself with since I was a kid closer to my chest as I stared through the small crack in the closed blinds. The weather was dreary and I was thankful. I didn’t want to see the Texas sun. I didn’t want to be reminded of its existence and how for a brief moment I had owned a piece of it.
The mind is a cruel thing. I was now a firm believer that it controls your heart. We are led to believe they are two separate but powerful adversaries, battling it out for control, but I no longer saw it as the case. Every waking moment of the past week, my thoughts had only led my heart to bleed. It had no say; it just kept obeying my relentless mind, the ache, the pull, the never-ending tear that ripped at me with every second of awareness that he was gone.
My weak heart never had a chance against my mind, which I decided loved Grant the most because it kept perfect memories.
I stood in my satin and lace wedding dress, on my eventless wedding day, staring at the pond where we fell in love. Every memory we had there, even our first fight, was perfect.
“Will you stop already?”
