With Love (7 page)

When I close my eyes, I can still smell it cooking.

“Dinner time came and went, and I didn’t hear from Sam. I tried calling his phone, but he never answered. It wasn’t unusual or anything, so I never gave it a thought. I knew the kids had Sam wrapped around their fingers, and they probably convinced him to take them for burgers.”

Sam always had a tough time saying no to the kids.

“As I was putting dinner away in the fridge, there was a knock at the door. I answered it, seeing it was my brother-in-law, Chase, and some woman. I invited them in and asked if they were hungry. Chase asked me to sit on the couch. That’s when I knew something was wrong—because he never turned down my cooking. Chase led me to the couch and sat beside me while he held onto my hand. The lady was from Victim Services, and she told me that Sam and the kids were killed in an automobile accident. I told her that she had no idea what she was talking about because Sam and the kids were in town eating burgers. I looked at Chase and asked him, ‘Why would you bring such an awful woman into my home?’” I paused, taking in another deep breath.

I had to encourage myself to continue.
Keep going, Alyson, you can do this.

“He brought me into a big bear hug and whispered in my ear that Sam and the kids were hit by a drunk driver three miles from home. Sam didn’t have time to swerve because the fertilizer in the back of his truck was too heavy.” I started crying. “I don’t remember anything after that. I don’t remember the funeral, the food, the flowers, or the people in my home. I remember nothing. I stayed in bed for months. I hardly ate, and I remember my mom throwing me in the shower once and yelling that I needed to snap out of it and start living again.” I paused and looked at George. “How do I start living again when my reasons for living are no longer there?”

George comforted me. “Alyson, your husband died. He was your companion—the person you shared your life with. Sure, at first you don’t know who you are. You feel confused. That’s normal, sweetie, because you lost a part of yourself. Not only that, but you also lost your children—that’s one hell of a devastation. To be honest, I’m not even sure I would survive after that.”

“I’ve cried every day for seven months for my children. The loss I feel is indescribable. There is such a big hole in my chest,” I whispered. George brought me in for a fatherly hug. “A few weeks ago my parents were over, trying to get me out of bed. I overheard my mother telling my father that she thought it was time they brought in medical help…but I was starting to get better though. The loss that I felt for my children was starting to subside, and the ache seemed to be easing.” I looked into George’s eyes. “After my parents left, I packed a few bags and headed to the airport. I didn’t have a plan. I still don’t have a plan. All I know is that I feel as if I can breathe again—after meeting you, George, and your family. It has…you have no idea how these past two days have helped. I can’t explain it, but it terrifies me.”

“Why does it scare you, Alyson?” George asked.

“I feel it’s too soon, like I am cheating on my family,” I confessed.

“My dear, sweet Alyson. Your heart knows what it needs to heal. No one can say which way is best; only you know that, sweetheart. Your memories are the best legacy that your family left you with; nothing will ever take that away. Let those memories comfort you at night—as I do with my Helen. Take me, for example. When Helen passed away in my arms, I felt like I was stripped. I felt like I did something wrong, and my punishment was my dear wife dying. Unlike you, I still have my children to look after to make sure they survive in this world. Look at Kristen. I still need to protect her, yet somehow, I need to let go enough to see her fly on her own. I understand your pain and your heartache. But, Ally, I think you know that it’s time to start living again,” George explained lovingly.

“George, I’m so scared,” I said quietly. “It’s the only life I know—being a wife and a mother.”

“Grief is a process. You need to be patient and tolerant of yourself. Be compassionate with yourself as you relinquish old roles and establish new ones. Alyson, your life will not be the same, but you deserve to go on living while always remembering the ones you once loved,” George said.

“How is anyone going to fall in love with someone who has so much baggage and sadness? I can offer nothing but myself—and maybe one day, I can offer love,” I whispered.

“You will be in love again, but it will be in a different way. You should never feel guilty for that. It’s okay to be touched and loved by someone new.” George looked into her eyes. “But, I also think you need to let that person make that decision.” George shrugged his shoulders. “Alyson, I can only speak for myself. Believe me when I say this. When I look at you, I see a woman finding her way back. You are getting stronger every day. When I see my son, I see a man that is captured by your presence. That is saying something because when we lost my Helen, my son lost that spark in his eyes,” George confessed. “When Julia came to get me to introduce us, she said, ‘You know, Daddy, there is something about her—something about her nature. She just reminds me of mom.’ You know what? You do. Look at how easy you made breakfast this morning, and you’ve only been here for one day.”

“But why me? You know nothing about me, and you took me into your private life and made me feel a part of it,” I asked curiously.

“Call it fate or call it stupidity; call it whatever you want. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and you, my dear…I believe Helen, and maybe your family, sent you here, so we can help each other heal.” George got up and kissed me goodnight. “See you in the morning.”

As Luke came back down the stairs, he thought,
Is that Ally and my dad talking?

Kristen was just walking through the door. “Hey, Luke, you’re not checking up on me are you?”

“No, you are a responsible young lady, and I trust you.”
It’s Mike that I don’t trust—him and his teenage boy hands.
“How was bowling tonight?”

“It was fun, but I don’t think Mike is my type. Too bad though ‘cause he’s hot.”

Luke rolled his eyes at his sister and began to walk away.

“Luke, can we talk?”

“Sure, what about?”

“Sex.”

Sex?! What the hell?!

Kristen stood there, laughing to herself, as she watched Luke sweat. This will teach him for checking up on me. “I’m kidding, Luke. Mom and I already had ‘the talk’ and the ‘period talk’ too.”

Periods, sex, boys!
“Kristen, would you mind if I grabbed a drink first?”

“Luke, you always wear a condom right?” Kristen couldn’t help herself. Now she was laughing out loud.

Fuck me! My little sister is not supposed to know about this stuff. What the hell did my mom tell her?!

“Actually, I want to talk about mom,” Luke turned around towards Kristen. “Let’s go upstairs to my room, okay?”

Luke followed Kristen up the stairs curious about what she wanted to talk about. Luke sat down in the office chair across the room from his sister.

“Why do you think Mom left us?” Kristen asked.

“You know she didn’t leave us. I mean, she didn’t choose to leave us,” Luke said.

“I know, but why do think she died so soon?”

“I don’t know, Kristen. I can’t answer that.”

“Do you think she’s the one that brought Ally here?”

Where is she going with this?

“What I mean is, her and dad have a special connection.”

“And?” Luke said as he wondered about them.
Did they?

“Julia thinks she is the best thing since sliced bread, and you…” Kristen trailed off.

“What about me?”
Here comes the big pep talk.

Kristen sighed. “Come on, Luke. I’m not stupid. I see the way you look at her. There is like an energy between the two of you. Do you think Mom sent her to help us with our grieving?”

“We’ve come a long way since Mom died.”

“I know, but look at this morning. Look at how easy and fun breakfast was.”

Luke nodded. “I don’t know, kid. I agree breakfast was fun this morning. I don’t remember laughing so much.”

“Have you gone and talked to anyone about Mom’s death?”

Not this shit again.
“No, I don’t think I need to.”

“Really? Come on. You sold your condo to come live with Dad and me. Mom died over a year ago. Why are you still here?” Kristen couldn’t help but ask.

Breathe, Luke, breathe.

“I’m here because I love you, and I’m here to watch you grow into a beautiful butterfly.”

“Cut the shit, Luke.”

Cut the shit, Luke?
Luke looked at Kristen.

“You need to talk to someone. What about your friend, Brian? Isn’t he the grief counselor for the high school on Marilyn?”

Luke hesitated. “I know how to deal with my feelings.”

“You sure do…that’s why you are living in our basement,” Kristen said sarcastically.

“Kristen…” Luke paused.
You’re treading on thin ice here.

“Look, all I’m saying is that I think Mom sent her here to help you…to help us.”

Luke gave his sister a funny look.

“Don’t mess it up, Luke, because I really like her. I can talk and joke with her like I used to with Mom.” Then, Kristen’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I miss her.”

“I do, too,” Luke confessed, standing up to hug Kristen. “You had better get some sleep. I’m glad you had a good time tonight. Anytime you want to talk…”

“I know. Anything except about sex right?” Kristen smiled.

Oh God.

As Luke got into bed, he thought about how smart and wonderful his baby sister had become in this past year.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should go and talk to someone.

The next morning Luke called Brian to see if they could talk over breakfast.

As Luke was pulling up to the restaurant, he couldn’t believe how his hands were sweating and how nervous he was.

When he entered the restaurant, he was glad that Brian was already seated and waiting for him; otherwise, he would have left.

“Hey, man,” Brian greeted Luke.

“Morning, Brian.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of you buying me breakfast this morning?”

“Actually, I called you because Kristen thinks that I need to talk with someone about my mom’s death.”

“Do you feel the same way?” Brian asked curiously.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

There was a bit of silence between them as the waitress came and took their drink order.

Brian glanced at Luke and thought to himself,
Finally
.

“What do you want me to tell you, Luke?”

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess that I’ve just pushed my feelings aside, so I can help my dad with the company, Julia with her wedding, and Kristen…just to see her grow up.”

“I see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Brian?”
Why do I sound so pissy?

“What I mean is your grief is unique. No one grieves in exactly the same way, Luke. People experience grief by what influences them, like their relationship with their parents, circumstances surrounding the death, emotional support system, cultural or religious backgrounds.”

Luke sat there quietly and fidgeted with his hands while he listened to Brian.

“There are five stages to grief: sadness, relief, anger, guilt and letting go…moving on with life. One might not grieve in this order, but they all go through it one way or another. Some go quickly through these steps, and some take a long time.”

Just as Brian finished his last sentence, the waitress came up with their drinks and took their orders.

“Geez, Luke, you still eat like your in high school.”

“If it’s not broken, why fix it?”

“Touché, my friend.”

Luke took a long sip of his coffee while Brian put cream and sugar in his.

As Luke drank his coffee, he asked, “How am I expected to feel?”

“Well…when a mother or father dies, that bond is broken, torn even. In response to your loss, you might feel a variety of different emotions, like the ones I said earlier. Luke, no one can tell you how to feel or the right way to heal.” Brian explained.

Quietly, they ate their breakfast.

Brian started the conversation again. “Sadness is what you felt when your mom died. Even at our age, you might be surprised at the overwhelming depth of feelings. Luke, you need to allow yourself to feel sad and embrace your pain.”

Luke stopped eating and looked at Brian as he continued.

“Relief is usually when a parent was sick before the death. You probably felt relief when she passed because it was hard knowing how she was suffering. It doesn’t mean that you didn’t love your mom. In fact, your relief at the end of the suffering is a natural outgrowth of love.”

“Brian, of course, I was sad when my mom died. In fact, in some ways, I was devastated. She was my secret keeper and my greatest support person.”

“That’s not what I was saying. What I meant was that it is okay to let other people see this. Have you talked to your dad about this?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Brian asked.

“At the time, my dad needed someone to be strong for him.”

“What about now?”

Luke sat there and was not sure what to think.

“At the end of the day, he is still your dad, and he’s been giving you time to sort out your feelings, Luke.”

What are you talking about, Brian?
“How do you know?” Luke asked, confused about how Brian seemed to know so much about his dad’s feelings.

“Since your mom was first diagnosed, your father and I met once a week over drinks.”

Luke just stared at Brian.

“Anger is when you put your anger toward the person that died. One might find that he or she is angry because a loving relationship in their life has been prematurely ended. Guilt, which by the way is something I think you carry the most of because you were not there. You might have wished you said things differently, spent more time with her, think you didn’t say enough, or regret not getting to say goodbye, in your case. I’m sure that is what is burdening you the most. Luke, your mom knew that you loved her more than anything. She knew you were helping your dad. Your mom would never have been upset that you weren’t there to say goodbye,” Brian explained.