Ginny
2001, Fort Lauderdale
I thought I knew what grief was. I’d felt it many times in the past. I remember the crushing weight of Moe’s suicide and the devastation of Grizz’s arrest, incarceration, and what I believed to be his execution. I’d even experienced a profound sense of loss after learning I had a twin sister who’d died in infancy.
None of it compared to what I felt with Tommy’s death. The pain was thick, heavy, and had found a home in the middle of my chest.
I wasn’t grieving just for myself this time, but for my children, as well. The pain of knowing Tommy wouldn’t be there for the milestones in Mimi and Jason’s lives was almost more than I could bear.
I remembered clinging tightly to my children as we were escorted by our friends from the limousine to the graveside service. I grabbed them tighter when I felt Grizz’s presence. I knew he was there and resolved myself to push him as far away from my thoughts as possible. I was angry about everything, and for whatever reason, I was channeling that anger at Grizz.
I’d had no time alone with Carter, but I was certain she’d signaled him and he was out there, waiting for me to come to him. I didn’t know how or when it was going to be arranged, and quite frankly, I didn’t care. It was a moot point anyway. As far as I was concerned, he could just go back to wherever it was he’d come from, and I made sure Carter knew I meant it when she discreetly asked me at the hospital the day Tommy was shot if I thought I was in any danger.
The next two weeks were a blur as we buried our grief beneath the love and concern we’d received from all the people who’d reached out to provide comfort. I had no choice but to stay busy with the business and legal aspects of Tommy’s death. I kept my children with me as much as possible and somewhat reluctantly let them spend time with friends. I knew it was good for them, and I was actually grateful and relieved when they returned to some activities that would help them forget, however briefly, that their father was gone.
Alec had taken Jason and his sons to a professional hockey game. Christy had taken Mimi to the mall. Christy and Anthony’s little girl, Daisy, needed a new dress, and she thought Mimi would enjoy the shopping trip.
I now had the house to myself. The children were gone. The visits from friends had slowly trickled off. People went back to their normal lives and schedules.
But I couldn’t see anything normal or routine in my future. It hurt too much to think about Tommy not being a part of it. The almost-silence weighed heavier than any noise I’d ever known. The ticking of the grandfather clock, the muffled sound of ice being dumped in the freezer bin, the quiet hum of the dryer. I felt a ridiculous sense of betrayal by the appliances in our home. How could they still function when I couldn’t? Where were they getting their strength from? An electrical socket? I wish it were that simple for human beings. Plug yourself into the wall and just keep going.
It suddenly occurred to me I had nothing to do. The house was clean, and there was enough food in the refrigerator and freezer to feed us for a month. I would go to the one place where I knew I would find solace. My Bible.
I was getting ready to head upstairs to retrieve it from my nightstand when I was distracted by the sound of the mail truck. I walked to the front window and watched as it pulled up to our mailbox. I realized that I was eager to see if there were any cards or letters of sympathy. I found comfort in knowing someone had taken the time to write and mail a card with their condolences.
Slowly I walked back to the house, my head down as I sorted through the different envelopes. Seeing the electric bill mixed in with the other mail angered me. Doesn’t anybody realize my husband is dead? Don’t the people at the electric company know my life will never be the same? How dare they send me a bill in the middle of all this? How dare they expect me to carry on with my life as if everything is okay? It’ll never be okay.
There was an official looking envelope from the State of Florida. My lips set into a thin line. Probably his death certificate.
I went inside, absently shutting the door behind me. I laid the mail on the table by the front door and opened up the envelope with the official state seal.
When I realized what I was looking at, I sank to the floor and wept uncontrollably. The ice-cold tile in our foyer felt good against my fevered skin.
It wasn’t Tommy’s death certificate. It was the official birth certificates he told me he’d have made for us the day I cleaned out Carter’s garage. We’d always used the doctored ones we’d been given. These were the real deal. I was officially and legally Guinevere Love Lemon, and he was officially and legally Thomas James Dillon.
Except now, it no longer mattered. Because he was gone.
The sobs finally subsided, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up. I lay there for I don’t know how long, thoughts of having to go through Tommy’s personal things overwhelming me. How was I going to do this? I’d been faced with this task twice in the past. The first time was when Moe died, and the second time after Grizz was arrested. Both times I’d run from my obligation and let someone else handle it. I wouldn’t do that this time.
I found the strength from an unbelievably wonderful and unexpected source: Mimi.
After Christy brought Mimi home that day, we sat in the den and talked about her father.
“Mom, can I ask you something?” she whispered.
“Of course, you can, honey,” I sipped on the herbal tea I’d made the both of us.
“I don’t know what’s considered etiquette or proper. I mean, it hasn’t been that long. But it must be hard for you going into your room every night. Seeing his things like he left them that morning.”
She was right. I hadn’t touched a thing. I refused to throw away the crumpled up Jolly Rancher wrappers he left all over the house. I couldn’t even bring myself to pick up his toothbrush where he’d left it on the side of the sink and place it back in the holder where it belonged. I fell asleep every night clutching his pillow to my chest and inhaling his scent. I was petrified that I’d forget what he smelled like. Petrified that I wouldn’t remember his voice, the feeling of his caress, the softness of his lips on mine or the sense of oneness when we made love.
“Yes, it, it—” I said, a frog in my throat. “It’s torture.”
“Let me help you,” she said. “Not one big project, but maybe a little bit at a time. Let me help you make decisions. Let me help you decide what’s okay to let go and what you need to keep. Let me laugh with you, because we know you’ll remember some funny times with him.”
Before I could answer her, she said, “And let me cry with you, because I know that if my heart is breaking, yours must be shattered in a million tiny pieces.”
I gulped back the tears that were threatening and nodded. My daughter was growing up.
**********
It wasn’t easy, but I have to say that if I didn’t have Mimi, I don’t know that I could’ve gotten through it. Mimi put herself in charge of organizing Tommy’s things for donation. She came home one day from school carrying two cardboard boxes that she’d picked up somewhere along the way.
“The boy’s shelter where Dad volunteered could really use toiletries, Mom. They don’t even mind if they’re slightly used.”
A few days later she told me she’d found a nonprofit organization that helped rehabilitated drug addicts find jobs, and they needed decent clothes to wear for their interviews. Little by little, I inched my way toward healing as I told myself Tommy’s things wouldn’t be thrown away. They would serve the needs of someone less fortunate.
It still wasn’t easy. I’d gone through his suits and pants pockets before letting Mimi take them, and I found some small items that tore my heart apart all over again. The hardest one was a small to-do list in the pocket of a blazer I hadn’t seen Tommy wear in years. I remembered when he’d written it. We were out having dinner, and I’d excused myself to use the restroom. When I returned, he was writing a note to himself.
“What are you writing?” I asked as I sat down and picked up my napkin to put it back on my lap.
“I have to remember some things for work tomorrow,” he’d said without looking up.
I now read what he wrote that night. His to-do list for the following day.
Have Eileen set up call with the Dakota people.
Look at Brody’s file. Time for a raise?
Pull Scott specs for new client. Similar design to what they want.
Tell Ginny how beautiful she looked last night.
Mimi had told me that day in the den that she knew my heart must’ve been shattered into a million pieces. She was wrong.
Sitting on the bed, reading the handwritten note, remembering that he did tell me the next day how beautiful I looked that night at dinner, I was certain I would never find my way back from the grief. There was no heart still beating in my chest. I was empty. Void.
There was nothing left.