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The room is exactly as we left it that day, so I know that Declan hasn't been in the room either. Unwelcome tears stream down my face, and there in the middle of the room, I drop to my knees, my hands covering my mouth as I choke on my sobs, my heart breaking all over again, my chest aching.
I'm in physical and emotional pain, and I have been for a while, regardless of how much I try and pretend that I'm not.
The room is untouched.
Luca’s blue Paw Patrol sheets are in disarray. I didn’t make his bed that morning like I usually did. The day of our accident happened to be his fourth birthday. He had been so excited that when morning came, he woke up and raced to my room asking to get ice cream from the shop near the park. I couldn’t deny my birthday boy, so we got dressed and went out for ice cream, then played at the park. When we returned home, I was too occupied with planning his special day that I never made his bed or put away his basket of clean clothes that is still sitting in the gray laundry basket at the foot of his bed.
We walked out that day, closed the door, and never opened it until now.
Strong familiar muscular arms wrap around my shaking body. Declan holds me against his chest, pulling me between his legs and letting me cry the tears I've been holding back for far too long.
Wiping my runny nose with the sleeve of my sweater, I look back at him through my watery eyes. His remorseful bloodshot eyes stare back at me. Instead of scolding him for being intoxicated and ruining his sobriety, I keep my mouth shut and stare at him. There's no point in saying anything. I can smell the liquor on him.
A frown curls on his lips, his eyes softening as he looks at me, looking more vulnerable than ever before. "I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up. I'm sorry that I failed to protect our son. I never should've gotten behind the wheel that night, and I'm so fucking sorry that I failed you. You never deserved any of the shit that I put you through.” Heavy tears roll down his cheeks.
He's hurting just as much as I am. We're both fucked up, and it's not entirely his fault. I'm to blame as well. We both fucked up many things over the years.
He's an addict, and I never knew how to help him. In the beginning, I made excuses for his heavy partying and late nights. I told myself he'd stop drinking and using once his tour was over. For a while, I was beside him drinking, and then I found out I was pregnant and stopped.
The signs were always there, but I ignored them, believing he had himself under control. He was sober around Luca and me, at least that’s what I thought.
Once I realized how badly his addiction had gotten, I tried to help him by getting him into rehab, but clearly, that didn't work out, considering his current state.
What can I do when he's not willing to help himself?
The best thing I can do is walk away and hope that he gets the help he needs, more help than just rehab.
Declan has years of trauma that he's holding on to and unwilling to let go of. I've tried for many years to help and save him from himself, but he never wanted to be saved. He wants to continue the same self-destructive path he's always been on.
Instead of judging him like I'm guilty of doing so many times in the past, I don't say anything about him relapsing. I turn my body, so I'm facing him completely, then wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him so fucking tight that he may as well be my lifeline at this point. His strong arms wrap around my waist, his face buried in the crook of my neck.
We cling desperately to each other, not saying a single word, only silently crying for many different reasons.
Together, we mourn the loss of our son and our marriage.
For the first time, we're mourning our loss together.
We don't need to speak; we know exactly what this moment means to us.
This is it.
This is the end.
* * *
The sun has set,and after many tears, Declan and I sit on the floor in front of the fireplace in the living room, both sipping cups of coffee. Our hair is still wet from the joint shower we took earlier. It wasn't sexual. We stood under the water holding each other while crying, and then we washed each other silently. He's still my husband, and we needed the bare physical touch.
"I know why you're here." He breaks the uncomfortable silence, finally addressing the elephant in the room. Suddenly, I feel too guilty and can't seem to look at him. "It's okay. We both know this has been coming for a while." He reaches across and takes my free hand, holding it tightly in his, giving me the strength to finally look over at him.
"I hope you know I love you, Dec, and I'm so sorry," I say, my voice hoarse from crying.
He nods with a sad smile. "I love you, too, and always will. But we both know that the love we have for each other isn't…" he trails off, looking for the right words.
"Isn't what we deserve or need?" I finish for him, and he nods. "We were young and high on life and excitement, but eventually that wore off and…"
"And we realized we're not each other's epic love story?" he finishes my sentence. "It's okay. I get it. Right off the bat, we made Luca before we even knew each other. I will always love you for giving me the greatest gift I've ever received. You are so beautiful, and you were such an incredible mother. I never deserved you. You were always unhappy. I knew this, but I was too selfish to change our situation. I kept hoping that one day you'd love me the way I love you."
"I do love you, Declan."
