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.
I bought a ring. I have this grand plan where I’m going to ask her to marry me. It’ll be a year to the day we started. I’ll take her up in a hot air balloon and we’ll watch the sun rise. Then I’ll ask her to spend the rest of my life with me. It feels perfect. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s a shitty thing to do. I mean, I haven’t told her yet. She knows about my illness, but she doesn’t know what I’m planning to do when things get too hard.
I should tell her.
But at the same time, I don’t want to. Everything is so good between us. If I could just have a little longer living this way. Just a little longer…
Why isn’t there more time?
*
Excerpt from Tyler’s Journal
29
M
onday, 23rd January 2017
ON THE FIFTH anniversary of Tyler’s death, we dressed for adventure with hiking boots and hats. Sunscreen lathered on our skin, we set out along the track that would take us to a geological rock formation in Sydney’s Royal National Park. It was called ‘Wedding Cake Rock’ because of the smooth appearance of the giant sandstone rock at the edge of a cliff—it looked like the icing on a wedding cake. The description specified that the hike was ‘not for the feint of heart’. We had to traverse a bush path that took us through a ravine with a small waterfall. It was beautiful and difficult, and something Tyler had always wanted to see but never got around to doing.
There were nine of us all up. Jude carried Ty in a specially designed backpack seat that he’d bought especially for the occasion. Susan came, as did my parents, Janesa and Alex. Alex was obscenely quiet during the hike. I hadn’t seen him for months, but I think this final goodbye was hitting him hard. It hit all of us hard. Tyler had been Alex’s best friend. Alex was the first person he trusted with his diagnosis and he’d stood by Tyler all through university and until the day he died—they were practically brothers.
Following along in a silence that felt even deeper than Alex’s was Tyler’s father. After a bit of debating, we decided to invite Graeme along. Despite the animosity between him and Tyler, he had just as much right to say goodbye to his son as the rest of us.
Cockatoos took flight, screeching their noisy song overhead, fading out as they went deeper into the bush.
“Tyler would have loved this place, this day,” Susan said, her hands resting against the safety rail as she looked out over the large smooth rock that stood out against the background of a blue-green sea. She inhaled the scent of sea salt and eucalyptus. “He really would have loved it.” Looking at me, she smiled, her eyes creasing at the corners with a shimmer of fluid coating them as she tried to keep her emotions under control. “You chose well.”
“It was on his list,” I told her, taking a deep breath as I took in the magnificent view. We could hear the waves crashing at the base of the cliff while the wind whipped at every stray strand of hair the long trek had loosened. “It’s a good place for him to start his journey.” I crouched down, sliding my backpack off my shoulders. Tied to it was an inflated balloon, made out of biodegradable materials especially for occasions such as this.
The concept was that it would float Tyler’s ashes up over the sea and into the clouds, and when it burst, his ashes would rain down to be carried all over the world by the currents, allowing him to continue his journey, travelling all over the world.
I thought it was fitting for an adventurer like Tyler. You never knew where the tide would take you. He’d always be travelling, seeing new things, which was what he loved best.
We gathered at the railing and I handed the balloon to my parents who would say their goodbyes before passing it along. We would all do the same until it got to Ty who would be the one to let the balloon go.
“We knew you as a boy,” my mother said, choking up. “And you grew into a wonderful man; one that made our Sarah so very happy. You were a star, Tyler. One who burned too bright to last very long. But you gave us the most beautiful grandchild and we’ll be forever thankful for that.”
“We wish we could have spent more time with you,” Dad added. “Your time in our family was over so quickly that I look back and feel like I missed it. And we miss you, young man. What happened to you, it wasn’t fair. And—” he cleared his throat “—that’s all. I’m no good at speeches.” He passed the balloon to Janesa and Alex.
“Mate,” Alex started, his voice tight. “You made me a better person. I know it’s been five years, but I miss you every bloody day. I miss talking to you. I miss all the fun we had. Hell, I even miss keeping your secret for you. You taught me to see the world in brighter colours and I try to do that. Every day. I keep trying to live the way you taught me. So I hope you’re doing the same. Wherever it is you are, I hope you’re still the life of the party, and I hope you’re at peace. That’s all, really. I just hope you’re at peace.”
Janesa took the balloon from Alex and pressed her forehead against the red exterior and whispered something before passing it to Susan, saying, “Goodbye, my friend,” at the same time.
Susan burst into tears before she could even get a word out. Graeme put his arm around her shoulders and helped her keep hold of the balloon. She shook her head, her body shaking. “I can’t,” she cried, her head falling into the crook of Graeme’s neck. An anguished sound escaped her throat as he held her and told her it was OK, he would do it.
“A, um…” He took a moment, and we all waited quietly, tears streaming down our cheeks. “A little over twenty-seven years ago, this beautiful baby boy came into our lives. He was bright-eyed and wailing with his tiny fists b…balled,” he stuttered as his emotions got the better of him. “His fist balled up. It was the happiest moment of our lives. He, um. He grew so quickly. Was smart as a whip and sensitive too. He wanted to do everything his own way but he always made us proud. Which is more than I can say I did for him. It’s something I can never take back. But, I am sorry, son. I was a coward and I missed out on seeing you become the man everyone misses so much. I miss the boy. I miss the boy who could ride a dirt bike like a demon and rustle fifty head of cattle in half the time it took me. I miss the boy who always had time to throw a ball around with his old man, who was the light of my miserable life.” He lowered his head, sobbing quietly before taking a sobering breath. “I miss you, son. I miss you and I’m sorry.”
“Goodbye, my beautiful boy,” Susan whispered, touching the balloon lightly. “You can rest now.” Then it was passed to Jude.
Jude frowned and moved as if he was going to hand it straight to me, perhaps feeling that since he didn’t know Tyler in life that he didn’t have the right to say something at his goodbye. But then he thought better of it and held on to the string, doing that nervous shrug of his shoulders before he spoke.
“I feel like I need to thank you. I have this feeling that it was somehow your intervention that brought me into the lives of the little family you created. I met you on the pages of your journal. I knew about you before then, and I knew what you’d gone through. But until I read your words, I didn’t understand you. But now I do. And what you and Sarah had, it was something special—the stuff of legends, really. I can only hope she loves me half as much as she loved you. But, I can tell you one thing. I will honour her. I will honour you and your memory, and I will always make sure your son understands and appreciates the extraordinary man his father was. I don’t want to take your place, Tyler. I simply want to share the hearts of your family with you. And maybe we can somehow keep you and your memory alive while we continue the journey that is life in your stead. Rest in peace, Tyler. I wish I’d met you in person.”
“Thank you,” I whispered to Jude as he passed me the balloon. His words clearly expressed his intentions toward my son and me. And it meant so much that he understood the importance of keeping Tyler’s memory alive. His support was everything.
“Tyler,” I whispered, the large red balloon in my hands as I tried not to cry too much so I could get this speech out. “You shared your heart with me. You shared your soul. I can never forget the way we came to be, or the fight we endured to get to our end. I thank you for the child you gave me. I thank you for every moment where your life touched mine. I miss you every day and I’ll keep missing you. But I’ll keep living for you too. You wanted so much for me. I don’t think there was a selfish bone in your body, even though you’d beg to differ. You took light wherever you went. There wasn’t a person in this world who was immune to your charms—I should know, I tried.” Sniffing, I laughed a little through my tears. “We all suffer from your loss. I’d like to think that when we release this balloon and your ashes get to float among the clouds, that each time it rains it will be you coming to visit us. Because you always promised to come back, Tyler. Don’t ever forget that.”
/> Crouching down, I held the balloon out for Ty who shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, his bottom lip wobbling.
“How about I hold it then? Do you want to say anything? It’s OK if you don’t.”
He moved closer to Jude and slipped his small hand inside his. “Is he weally in there?” he asked.
I nodded, feeling my chest tighten because my child was feeling scared and confused. We’d explained to him what was going to happen in the days before. And while he’d seemed to understand, he was only four and the reality of it was obviously a little too confronting for him.
“I don’t want my daddy to be in a balloon,” he wailed, burying his head into the side of Jude’s thigh.
“He won’t be in the balloon forever,” I said gently, attempting to explain. “It’s just so he can go on one last adventure.”
Lifting his head, he sniffled and looked at me, his tiny face scrunched up. “Like how we going to safari?”
I nodded. “Just like that. We hold the balloon and we wish him well. Then we can let go and watch him float away like he’s flying. He would have really enjoyed that. You know, he took me in a hot air balloon once.”
“He did?”
I nodded. “It’s where he asked me to marry him. It was one of his favourite adventures.”
“Will this be like that?” he asked, looking at the balloon.
“I think so.”
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