LAST WEEKEND WE PACKED UP all of Dee’s husband’s things. She needed me there with her and it killed me not being able to comfort her the way she deserved to be comforted. Still, I know that I achieved just that, albeit virtually.
Dee knows I haven’t stepped foot in my old house since I moved out just after she left to go back to her childhood home and I’m a basket case. We decided we were only going to pack up my wife and son’s personal belongings and that I’d leave the rest to a moving company. She wanted to plan the whole thing out like we did for her husband’s things but there was no way I was going to spend a minute longer in that place than absolutely necessary. Get in, throw everything in the closest box, and get out. And that’s exactly what I told her.
Fuck that! There is no way in hell I’m doing this twice.
It takes us over an hour just to get me over there and through the front door. I had to stop at the entrance to the alley because the memories that assaulted me had me paralyzed. The highlight reel of my life began to play in an endless loop. I taught Alex how to ride a bike in this alley, his delight as fresh as if it were happening at that moment. But it went deeper than that. Teaching him how to walk, then run and climb. Indian guides, T-ball, holidays, birthdays, and, of course, karate. Watching him experiencing new things for the first time. Seeing things through his eyes. The pride in the little things and the sheer joy in the bigger ones. The beauty in this world was extinguished when he took his last breath and the pain of not being able to comfort him… And then there are the dreams and hopes, the future he’ll never have. And it hurts…so fucking much!
How am I supposed to live without them?
I also couldn’t park in the garage. I opened it but quickly pushed the button to close the door. I remember seeing it empty after the accident and that feeling of emptiness almost had me turning around. Dee helped me. Dee always helps me. She flooded my phone with stupid GIFs, funny quotes, and silly memes.
Once I finally make it inside, she has me sit on the couch, not the floor like I want to. Old habits die hard. I have my bottle of Johnnie Walker and I know she has her bottle of Patron. After she has me drag in several boxes, we each have three shots before she makes me stop. She tells me she won’t be able to help me if we get too drunk and even though I don’t want to stop drinking, I do. I quickly set up the boxes and sneak in an extra shot, straight from the bottle because it’s times like this when the glass is just pointless.
Dee then has me set up my phone to text with voice command. Like she did last weekend. She uses every distraction she can dream up. Her support and all our playful exchanges help me gather the strength I need to move forward.
Okay, babe. I’m right next to you. Let’s do this. Take my hand. Close yours around it, just like we did last weekend. Feel me, E. Breathe me!
Okay.
We finally move, but when we get to my old bedroom, I freeze and stop texting. I know Dee can feel me completely shutting down and is probably picturing me running out of the house without packing up a single thing. I know it’s not what she wants me to do and I don’t want to let her down. I also know it has to be done.
I can feel you shutting down. I know you want to run but you’re so strong, E, and you have me. Can you feel me?
Yes.
Okay, you have two of the boxes we just set up. Let’s go into the master bedroom. Follow me and grab those boxes. Come on!
I love when her texts get all bossy. I picture her squaring her shoulders and jutting out her chin as she gets ready to lead me around by my ear. And in the middle of this hell, I actually crack a smile.
I’m coming, Ms. Pushy!
Good boy! Now, phone on the table. Start loading. Grab what you can get to first.
Packing up Alyssa’s things is hard and takes a really long time. Even though I’m not going to keep anything in here, I don’t want strangers going through her personal things. That being said, everything I touch breaks my soul just that much more.
But, Alex’s room…well, let’s just say, that’s a whole other story.
It’s exactly like it was the day he left to get his yellow belt. “I can’t do this,” I say into the empty room. But just as I turn to leave, my phone pings and through my tears I see the classic picture of a cat hanging from a tree with the caption, “Just hang in there.”
“God, Dee,” I laugh despite myself, then sink to the floor and sob. “Just hang in there, yeah, right.”
E! I need you to text me.
Shit! I left Dee hanging. The thought makes me think of the stupid cat picture and I shake my head and chuckle. It also brings me back to the present and I look around Alex’s room, the room I custom designed and the urge to share it with Dee is overwhelming.
I need to tell you about his bedroom.
God, E…
I remember building his bed. It’s a bunk bed I designed to look like a space shuttle. There’s a ladder attached on the outside to get to the top bunk and a cockpit in the front with a bench seat that’s a toy chest. I even added a real steering wheel to make it more authentic.
Wow, E, it sounds wonderful.
Leave it to her to be so thoughtful.
It is. It’s white with red and blue trim, I even added the American flag.
He loved it, didn’t he?
My son being referred to in the past tense shatters me. It makes it all the more real that I’ll never see him grow. There will never be a graduation. He’ll never attend college, fall in love, get married, or have kids. He’ll never get that chance. He was stripped of all that and it’s so fucking unfair!
I can’t do this! I start shaking. My breath becomes quick and shallow and my vision blurs. The only thing that saves me is the constant ping of Dee’s texts.
E…!
I need you to answer me!
Are you there?
EEEEEE!
I’m coming to you! Text me your address!
E! ANSWER MY FUCKING TEXTS!
Oh fuck! She has to be freaking out.
I can’t do this, Dee. My wife’s things were hard but this…
Breathe, E. We have all the time in the world and I’m not going anywhere. I’m next to you on the floor. I’m sitting with you. Are you sitting with me?
Yes…
Take my hand. Lean back against the wall with me. Take a deep breath and tell me more about his room.
I close my eyes and stretch out my arm, clasping it around where hers would be if she were here. I can feel her and I know I’m not alone.
We had all the walls painted with murals of astronauts and aliens. Cartoon figures standing on the surfaces of planets. And the ceiling is dark blue and covered in glow-in-the-dark stars arranged in constellations. Deeee…
I can’t stop crying!
Tell me when you are ready to stand up again and we will. We don’t need to rush this. We’re in no hurry!
FUCK!
I can’t do this! She should be here with me. I need her to be here with me. Now I know how she felt last weekend and I hate it!
E, I’m not ready yet.
What does she mean? What’s she not ready for?
Let’s have a shot. I know you brought Johnnie in the room with you. Pour us a shot.
She knows I’m not ready and this is her way of giving me some time. We knew Alex’s room was going to be extremely hard so she had me bring my bottle of Johnnie. I swallow the whisky, straight from the bottle, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat and smile when I read:
I need another.
Another lie, I really do love her.
Me too.
By the time I finish packing up the house, the sun is already starting to set. I stopped drinking hours ago. I want to get out of here the minute I’m finished and the rest of their personal things didn’t require me being numb to get it done. I load up their things into my car and voice text with Dee all the way home.
As exhausted as I am, I still need her. We drink some more and she gets me to watch a movie. She lets me choose, so I pick a Michael Bay movie. I cringe when I think about the movies I suggested when she packed up her husband’s things. After going through what I just went through, I’m not surprised The Notebook was what she came back with. I almost want to indulge her but I seriously need to see shit get blown up. When the movie ends, I notice she’s stopped answering my texts. She’s always told me if she falls asleep texting me it’s because she didn’t want to say goodbye. I know she’s fallen asleep and I leave her with…
I love you.
Next up, the one-year anniversary of their deaths. I’m dreading that but at least I won’t have to go through it alone.