AFTER THE INTENSITY of the holidays, after our hearts had been laid out for the other to inspect, we fell into a sort of calm. We understood each other, knew the trials that had brought us into each other’s lives, and we were happy in the love we had created.

Jude spent most nights at my place and only went back to his when the nightmares were too much and he needed some quiet to calm down. I wasn’t offended, because I didn’t expect to be the magical remedy that would cure the burdens he carried in his heart. But I did notice that he was able to hold on to me and fall back asleep most nights, so that meant a lot to me.

Being back at work meant I had to take Ty to Susan’s each day. I was anxious at first. Even though we’d settled things between us and she’d met Jude, I worried that me being in a new relationship was still too much for her. But she seemed to genuinely like Jude and was keen to reconnect with me. Things weren’t perfect, but at least we were talking again. I think it also helped that I spoke to her about Ty seeing Graeme and we made a plan that we would visit together during the Easter school break when I was due to drive to Moama again.

Speaking of Ty, he was on cloud nine. He got to see Jude every day and since Jude was only working part-time in the speech clinic while his classes were still on semester break, they sometimes spent the day together. It warmed my heart to see the genuine affection Jude had for my son. I couldn’t help but think about what a great father he would make; it was only natural.

Braiding my hair in front of the bathroom mirror, I smiled to myself. Life felt so...normal. Jude had left earlier with Ty, dropping him to Susan’s on his way to work, and I had a rare morning where I wasn’t rushed before work. Putting my hair in any style other than a ponytail was a luxury I normally didn’t have time for.

That’s something that Jude was great at—the little things. The things that made my day just a tiny bit easier. He’d help around the house without giving it a second thought; he’d buy milk without me having to ask, make sure my favourite ice cream was always in the freezer, or he’d get Ty ready for the day so I could rest for a few extra minutes. It was basic, but it mattered and I found myself leaning on him more and more. Together, we had our own version of happy. It wasn’t the kind of love they named volcanos after, but I could tell it was just as special—the kind of love that would last. And, boy, did I need that. I didn’t believe Jude would ever get past the trauma of his past, and I wasn’t so sure I’d get past mine either, but together we worked. I didn’t want to downplay how monumental that feeling was to me.

The intercom buzzed from the wall in the kitchen and I quickly finished up my hair, twisting the hairband in the end of the braid as I rushed to answer it—so much for not being rushed. “Parcel for a Mrs Sarah Kennedy-Lohan.”

“Come on in.” Hitting the buzzer to let him in the building, I went to the front door and opened it, meeting the mail carrier as he strode down the hall.

“Sarah?” he asked, and I nodded as he handed over a box not much bigger than a coffee cup.

I signed for it, turning it over with curiosity until I saw the sender’s name. Department of Medical Sciences. My stomach dropped.

Oh God. It was Tyler’s ashes. I was holding Tyler’s ashes in my hands.

“Is this everything?” I asked, struggling to believe that Tyler’s tall frame fit inside there.

The mail guy shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all I have for you.”

“But, it’s so small.” How on earth could the man who had been the centre of my world be reduced to a box I could hold in one hand?

Again, he shrugged. He had no idea what was inside my package; he was simply the courier. He walked away, leaving me in my doorway, alone with my husband’s ashes.

It was eight fifteen in the morning.

I swallowed hard, glancing down at my work uniform. A white polo shirt with green slacks. Comfortable shoes on my feet. This was all so...normal. I’d been handed Tyler’s ashes. I was holding Tyler’s ashes. And nothing had happened. Everything around me stayed the same.

“It’s so small,” I whispered to myself, walking back inside the apartment.

I was alone.

Ty was with Susan.

Jude was at work.

There was no one here but me.

Just me and a tiny box with my husband’s ashes inside.

I set it on the bench top then sat on a white-topped stool, staring at it. I didn’t know what I expected. But it wasn’t this. It wasn’t a tiny cardboard box.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily. An hour passed.

My mobile rang. I let it go to voicemail.

My house phone rang. I let it go to message bank.

My mobile rang again...

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Finally, I stood. Shaking my head at myself because it was just a box. I should open it and quit staring at it like a constipated fool.

I laughed at myself. Tyler would have laughed at me too...wouldn’t he?

There were some days when I thought about him and wasn’t sure if I knew him as well as I thought I did. I mean, I knew him. I knew his heart. But did I know him so well that I could predict his actions? I remember feeling on edge for the first six months of being with him, constantly scared he was going to take off and never come back. But then I discovered his illness. I accepted our time for what it was, accepted that he’d eventually be unable to use his limbs. I was willing to stay with him. Then I found out that our time was fleeting and he was planning on taking his life the moment he couldn’t walk anymore.

He kept going for me.

He prolonged his suffering for me.

I knew him. I knew that losing his dignity was the last thing he wanted. Still, I made him hang on. I made him hang on until he could barely move and had to be helped to do everything. And he did it, because he loved me.

Taking a pair of scissors out of the drawer, I cut through the tape and peered into the box. Inside was a packing slip that explained the contents. There was Tyler’s name, his allocated cadaver number, and the word ‘ashes’. It seemed so...clinical, so unemotional.

Beneath the packing slip was a plastic bag that was sealed with a zip tie—a zip tie. I lifted a clear plastic bag that was closed with a zip tie and set it on the bench.

Herein lies my husband, I thought, looking at the grey powder as my eyes burned from behind.

“I’m so sorry I made you suffer,” I whispered, lightly touching the bag. “I was selfish and I wanted you to stay. I’m sorry I didn’t let you go the way you wanted.”

I wiped at the tears that had started streaming down my face and laughed at myself. “God, do you know how many of these I’ve shed for you? You’d think I’d have run out by now.” Sniffing, I shook my head then picked up the bag, feeling the weight of it in my hands. “Oh, Tyler. How do you even fit in here? You were so big, larger than life. This doesn’t seem right.” I put it back down, leaning on my folded forearms, still staring at the grey.

“You don’t visit me anymore,” I whispered, pressing my lips in a tight line, sitting and staring. All I could hear was my breathing. I touched my finger against the plastic. “Is it because I let you go, or did you just stop watching over me?”

I paused as if I expected him to answer then wiped at my nose, sniffling. “It’s OK, I get it. We both needed to rest. But I do miss you. I wish you could come back and be with me again. But since you can’t, I just hope you’re proud of me, because I did it—that one last thing you wanted of me. I fell in love again.” I grimaced a little as I said it. “I feel strange saying it out loud to you, but I’m pretty sure you know, right? You can see this kind of stuff from where you are.” Straightening up, I placed my chin in my hand and smiled through my tears. “He’s wonderful, you know. You would have gotten along with him. But you got along with everyone, didn’t you? I kind of think he’s a male version of me—he’s bookish and stubborn and doesn’t care about conventional things. You would have liked the way he talks. He has an accent, and I think the thing you’d like most is that he treats Ty like he’s his own.” I reached out and touched the corner of the bag, lightly turning it as I wiped at my leaking eyes. “If it was you—if you sent him to me, then thank you.” My voice broke and the tears fell harder. I needed a moment before I could go on. “He can never replace you, but he makes everything better. He makes me smile, laugh, scowl.” I laughed a little. “If it was you, I want to let you know that you chose well.” My voice squeaked, and I sat up straighter, wiping at my nose as I nodded in a small quick movement. “You chose well.” That movement quickly turned from a nod to a shake as the tears burst forth. “God, I loved you,” I cried, my shoulders bouncing and my stomach hurting as I tried to suck in enough air to keep breathing. I had to clutch at my middle, force air to fill my lungs. I held it there, trying to calm the stuttering of my emotions.

“Sarah?” Jude’s soft voice broke through the pain in my heart.

“Jude!” I turned and threw myself at him and he caught me in his arms. His hands slowly moved up and down my back in a soothing motion.

“What’s happened? Everyone has been trying to reach you.”

Lifting my head, I turned toward the plastic bag sitting on my counter. “His ashes,” I choked out.

“Oh, Sarah.”

I clung to him tighter, cried harder.

He held me tighter, whispering that he was right there and that he wasn’t going to let go. It was what I needed—his soft words, his strong presence. He understood my grief and supported me through it. Proving once again that he was enough. We were enough. No, we were everything. I needed Jude in my life as much as I needed the air to breathe. We were a different version of forever. One that was just as beautiful and important as any other that had come before.