Chapter Eighteen
March fifteenth. The one-year anniversary of Grady’s death.
I woke up that morning before the kids and stared at myself in the mirror for a long time.
I couldn’t find myself through the haze of grief and heartache. In the mirror I saw a stranger, a person I didn’t know and couldn’t tolerate.
Every once in a while I would glimpse a glimmer of my old self, but it was only a flicker, an echo of life and light.
Part of me accepted that this was the person I was now. I could never go back. I would never find my lost self. That part of me knew I could only go forward and I would have to discover this unknown person as the days went by.
And that same part was okay with finding this new version of me. I couldn’t go back, but I also didn’t know if I wanted to go back. The other Liz had been happily married to Grady. She had been a good mother that had things under control because she had the help of a good man. She built a life that revolved around her husband and her children and that was enough for her.
But I could never have those things again. And so moving forward I needed to let them go.
Yes, I still had my children and I would always do everything I could to give them the best life possible. But I wasn’t the mom that volunteered twice a week in their classrooms now. I wasn’t the mom that baked up a storm for fundraisers and teacher appreciation week. I wasn’t the mom that remembered every practice and had healthy meals on the table every single night.
I was just me. A widow struggling to keep them bathed and clothed.
And you know what? It worked for us. We survived a year without Grady. A whole year. Maybe it wasn’t pretty. Maybe our lives weren’t tied up perfectly with bows. But we still loved each other. And we were still alive.
There were dark times over the last year, but it hadn’t been all darkness. There were days I never thought I would live through and moments when I was convinced that it was the end of us. But we’d pushed through and we’d kept on living.
Best of all, it wasn’t all depression and hard times.
Somehow, we hadn’t just managed to go on living, but we’d managed to smile through some of it too. Our hearts hurt and our souls ached, but there was plenty of love and happiness left for us.
I pushed my blonde hair back from my face and made a mental note to make a hair appointment. The lines near my eyes were definitely more pronounced and my youthful complexion wasn’t so youthful anymore.
At almost thirty-three-years-old, I could say that I was happy with how I’d aged. I hadn’t found much time to run through the winter. I hoped to remedy that this spring. Still, I was in better shape than I ever had been before.
What mattered most to me about looking at myself for so long was that I could finally recognize some of what Ben saw in me.
I knew Grady loved me. I knew without a doubt he thought I was sexy. He told me I was beautiful nearly every day. But he had been married to me. We had spent ten years together. At some point he had made a conscious decision to see me that way and to continue seeing me that way. I had no doubt that he believed all of those things, but part of that was because he never looked any other direction. I was it for him, just like he was the end all, be all for me.
Ben had started as a complete stranger with absolutely no obligation to me. Our relationship had developed into a strong friendship and I was happy with that. Although, I knew he wanted more. He had told me so more than once.
I thought it might be awkward between us after he asked me out and I turned him down. I shouldn’t have ever worried.
Ben would never let something as little as rejection stand in the way of our relationship. Not even more rejection. He’d continued to ask me out as another month passed.
He was never forceful about it. He had this gentle way about it that always made me feel comfortable enough to say no. And I always said no.
I should have ended things with him in every way. I didn’t want to lead him on. I cared too much for him to play games with him.
But I was also too selfish to let him go and he seemed in no hurry to escape me. He meant more to me than nearly anyone else. And if I was honest with myself, I knew I had feelings for him.
I just could never explore them.
I still loved my husband as fiercely as the day he died. It wouldn’t be fair to Grady, my kids or Ben for me to say yes. Besides, I knew Ben and I would not last long after a first date. Where could that possibly go? Marriage was out of the question. A long term relationship was out of the question. Sex was so far out of the question it made me laugh, and then seize up in fear and anxiety immediately after.
We had no future as a couple.
I didn’t want to mess up our friendship. It was too important to me.
I decided to keep the kids home from school today. It was a Tuesday, so the rest of the world went on as normal. I just couldn’t make them go.
Our world had stopped being normal a year ago.
No, longer than that. After Grady’s first diagnosis, things took an abrupt turn into the abnormal. And we’d pretty much set down roots there.
I got dressed and put on some light makeup. I made my way downstairs in a still quiet house and went about making breakfast.
The kids trickled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and tussled. I loved this picture of them. I loved their sleep-rumpled pajamas and lazy smiles. I loved that they walked straight to me and wrapped their arms around me as soon as they saw me, as if the very first thing they needed every day was my touch.
I kissed their wild hair and turned on some cartoons so I could focus on a great big breakfast of pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and pre-made cinnamon rolls.
This day was going to be tough no matter how it went; I figured we should start off by glutting ourselves.
We ate quietly, except for Jace, who didn’t understand the significance of this day. He was just excited to have his siblings all home with him.
After breakfast, I bathed them and dressed them in nice clothes with bows for the girls and shiny shoes for the boys. And then I took them back downstairs and I gave them each a present.
I gave them all something of Grady’s.
I gave Blake his daddy’s basketball. Grady would often play Saturday morning ball with his guy friends at the local Y. He kept it in a gym bag in our closet and I hadn’t touched it until I thought about giving it to Blake. It smelled like leather and sweat. It smelled like Grady when he would come home after a few hours of playing, dripping wet and exhausted, but alive with an energy he only found with good friends and hard play.
For Abby, I found a boxset of The Hardy Boys in hardback. They were Grady’s from when he was a kid. His mom had brought them over when we first moved into this house and he had kept them on a shelf in the den. Abby was just now able to read well by herself and I thought she would love the mysteries and adventure, and even more, reading something that her daddy loved at her age.
Lucy was the hardest to find something of Grady’s that would mean something to her. But digging around in the den, I found a box that he had made in high school woodshop. He had stained it and carved his initials in the top, then attached the lid with hinges. It was hard to part with something that meaningful to him. He had kept it with him all of these years and I knew he was proud of his work even back then. My heart had screamed to keep it for myself, but I knew Lucy would grow to love it and treat it with as much care as he had. I told her we would put it some place safe and when she wanted to look at it, I would help her get it down.
I wanted to find something symbolically Grady, so that when Jace was older, he would know it was his dad’s without being able to attach a memory of him to it. But I couldn’t find anything that represented Grady without taping a picture to it. And then it hit me. Jace needed a picture of his daddy. I had one of my favorite pictures blown up and framed. Ben said he would hang it for me later in Jace’s room. The picture was of Grady sitting on a bench at work a few years ago. His chin was tilted high while he laughed at something off film. His green eyes sparkled with life and his tussled hair blew in the wind. He was breathtaking to me. I had been the one that took the picture. I had taken much younger kids with me to see where daddy worked and brought him lunch. I remembered rushing to capture the shot and falling in love with him all over again in that moment. It was an image of Grady I would always remember because it was so quintessentially him. Jace needed to see his daddy like that.
I knew the little ones wouldn’t understand the significance yet, but one day they would and they would learn to appreciate the value of what I gave them. I now had totes for each of them, compiled with gifts from Grady that I planned to give each year.
The totes gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t expected. I had left this house completely untouched after Grady died. His clothes still hung in the closets and his work boots still sat in the mudroom. They weren’t just his earthly possessions, they were pieces of him that I couldn’t imagine parting with.
Well, until now.
Now that his most important memories were packed away and waiting for my children, I thought it might be time. Maybe I could pack up his clothes and give them to someone who needed them. Maybe it was time to put his shoes away and empty the bathroom of his toiletries.
Maybe.
One thing at a time.
The children stared at their gifts for a while, all of them except Jace, who toddled off to get into the box of toys we kept in the living room. Abby and Blake both cried over their new gifts and soon Lucy joined in. Jace came back to see what the commotion was about, so I picked him up and cried with him too. I lead my children to the couch and let them all snuggle close.
Yes, things were better, but they were still hard.
A knock at the door forced me to move. Looking at the clock on the wall, I knew it was time anyway. I gave all of the kids kisses and one last hug.
Ben stood on the other side of the door, holding a large bouquet of pale pink orchids. Before I could greet him, he stepped through the open door and crushed me in a hug. He smelled like him, like the scent I’d gotten used to over the last several months, and the flowers he held against my back.
My arms wrapped around his waist and I held on. I had been the rock all morning, the steady one, the one that held us together. But now I needed someone to be my rock. I felt myself crumbling to pieces, sand that washed away every time a new wave rolled in or ash that scattered in the wind.
“How are you holding up,” he whispered against my temple.
“We’ve survived so far.” I took a step back, realizing that embracing Ben might be inappropriate in front of the kids. He held out the flowers and I took them, dipping my head to enjoy their fragrance. “These are gorgeous. Thank you. Orchids?”
He gave me a small smile. “Roses felt… inadequate.”
I didn’t know what to make of that, so I busied myself with putting them in water. Emma showed up a few minutes later and we all piled into my minivan.
The ride to the cemetery wasn’t long enough. Ben drove for me because I didn’t think I had the strength.
I hadn’t been here since they put in the headstone. And the only other times I visited his grave was right before the funeral when I picked the plot out, then of course, during the funeral.
It just didn’t seem right. His body rested here, but his soul was gone. This was an empty place for me. It didn’t hold the Grady I loved and it only represented his death.
I didn’t want to remember him in death.
I wanted to be with him in life.
The cemetery I’d chosen was a beautiful piece of land with huge trees and rolling hills. His plot sat on the top of a hill, nestled into a view of the sunset at the right time of day and overlooking the rest of the grounds.
At some point during the funeral preparation, I had designed his tombstone. I hardly remembered what I’d picked out, but it was simple, stately, to the point but with a little bit of whimsy.
Like Grady.
Katherine and Trevor met us there. We had arranged to spend time around the grave, remembering this day together.
After Ben parked the car and we piled into the wet March morning, I realized how inappropriate it was for Ben to be here.
I looked at my sister in panic, but she was busy talking to Abby.
I took calming breaths and tried to sort out my feelings. It shouldn’t be awkward. We were just friends. I shouldn’t feel the need to justify his presence to my mother-in-law or to my husband’s empty body.
But I did.
The breath left my lungs. Why hadn’t I thought this through before now? I had asked Ben to be with me today because I knew I needed him. But now it seemed… wrong.
I couldn’t help the feelings of guilt and shame that bubbled over me. I’d made a huge mistake. And there was nothing I could do about it now.
Ben’s hand landed between my shoulder blades where he rubbed a soothing path. I relaxed some but that only irritated me more.
“Who’s your friend, Liz?” Trevor demanded with harsh eyes and a firm mouth.
A sickness rolled through me. I closed my eyes and steeled my courage. “This is Ben, Trevor. He’s a good friend. Ben, this is my brother-in-law, Trevor and my mother-in-law, Katherine.”
Ben stuck out his hand and greeted them politely. They did not seem charmed.
After an hour of standing in the drizzle, mostly silent with our own thoughts, we decided to go for some lunch. I chose a kid friendly place that the adults could enjoy too.
The meal was spent remembering Grady, sharing our memories and tears once again. We talked for the first time of details about the funeral. I realized that all of us had been in a daze during that time period, going through the motions, but not mentally present. Among us we were able to piece together a lot of the details and some really great moments from that time. The kids were wild, wound up after a subdued morning, but we didn’t mind their chaos. In fact, it broke the last of the graveside tension.
The peace only lasted until Ben excused himself for the restroom. He had been silent throughout the meal, taking in our conversation with thoughtful attentiveness. His hand had rested on the back of my chair throughout lunch and when he left, I felt his absence more than I should have.
“How did you meet, Ben?” Katherine asked softly. “I’ve never heard you speak of him before.”
Trevor glared at me while I answered, “He’s my neighbor. He moved in early September and over the last six months we’ve become very good friends.”
Trevor grunted derisively. I gave him a pleading look, begging him to understand that my actions weren’t done out of disrespect to his brother or lack of love. I had needs too. I had lonely places inside of me that needed a friend, that needed someone to care about me.
“He’s very nice, Liz,” Katherine smiled at me. “I’m glad you have someone you can lean on.”
I jerked back, surprised by her gracious reply. “Me too,” I whispered.
Katherine paid for lunch even though I tried to convince her to let me. She waved me off, not caring how much more right I had than she.
We parted ways in the parking lot. I hugged both Katherine and Trevor, warning him to be nice. He growled at me.
I couldn’t help but laugh. That was so Trevor. And like Katherine said at Christmas, he was treating me like family, like I was his little sister and he was my overprotective big brother. Or like the brother of my dead husband. Either way, his concern made me feel loved.
Emma helped the kids into the house while I walked Ben to the edge of the garage. I had a lot of time to think today and more time than usual to spend with Ben.
He stepped close to me, shielding me from the biting drops of cold rain. I let him invade my personal space, completely used to it by now. When he turned to me and said, “Go out with me, Liz. It’s okay for you to move on now.”
I finally agreed with him. I didn’t know if it was visiting the grave and once again realizing how empty it was, how far gone Grady was from me or if it was that I realized today I didn’t want to be without Ben. I didn’t know what my feelings for him meant or how deeply they went, but I did know they mattered to me in a profound way.
He mattered to me in a way I couldn’t ignore anymore.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The smile that broke out across his face made my stomach flutter and my skin buzz with anticipation. “Okay?”
I nodded, “Yes.”
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Get a sitter for Friday.”
I watched him walk away, baffled by his words and his attitude. I always expected him to treat me as though I were fragile… thin glass that would shatter with just the slightest bit of pressure, but he never did. He pushed me beyond being delicate, into a place I had never thought I would go again. He made me strong. He demanded that I be anything but weak and broken.
Which might have been the reason I finally said yes.
But oh, god. I said yes.
The happy feelings were replaced with absolute panic. I had a date.
On Friday.
With someone who was not my husband.