Meant for More

by Liza James

  I love him.

  He releases his hold on me and pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it the floor as he climbs in bed and tucks me against him. My tears have slowed a bit, my breaths steadying only slightly. But as I lay on my side, pressed tightly against Carter's chest with his strong arms wrapped around me, I can focus on his own breathing. I find calm in his strength, beauty in his peace and pull from them into myself.

  "I love you," I feel the words leave my lips before I realize I've said them. But I mean them wholeheartedly. I do, I've always loved Carter.

  "I love you," he replies, brushing his lips against my neck as he pulls me closer.

  "Forever?" I ask, because I need it like this. To know I'm not going to lose him.

  "Forever and ever." His hands move under my sweater against my stomach. Tethering us further, connecting our souls together as if he can’t seem to get close enough. I know because it's how I feel as well, needing to be nearer to him all the time.

  "Promise?" Please. I need this.

  "I promise."

  It's today.

  My dad's funeral.

  I'm standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom. My hands smooth down the front of my black dress. It’s long, brushing below my knees in wisps of lace. The sleeves fall down to my wrists in delicate fabric, and it rises high on my neck and cinches tightly in the back.

  Ironically, it was my dad’s favorite dress and one I haven't worn in years. I'm thankful I could still squeeze into it, because it's fitting for today in more ways than one.

  My heart pounds.

  Along with my head.

  They beat in sync while vomit threatens to twist in my gut. I feel sick, from both what happened last night and what I'm walking into today. The physical responses are so similar making it difficult to decipher which is which.

  Knock knock.

  My door slowly opens as Liv and Carter step into my room and shut it behind them. Liv moves behind my shoulders, wrapping her arms around me while I lift my hands to grasp her forearms. She leans her head against mine, and I try to offer a sweet smile but it barely resonates.

  I still feel empty. When will that change?

  "Is my mom here yet?" I ask Carter, knowing he's the one who has been in contact with her today.

  He nods, "Yeah, she's already at the funeral home."

  Of course, she is.

  I sigh, turning back to the mirror while I pull my hair up into a tight ponytail. "So eager to say goodbye, is she?"

  They both fall silent, and I glance to meet both of their eyes before looking at myself in the mirror again. "I know, I know. Everyone processes things differently—I get it."

  Liv runs her hands up and down my arms before kissing my cheek gently. "You'll be great today."

  I'm giving a speech, hungover as hell, and I hope my dad is watching from wherever he is now. I don't know what I want him to feel as he does—guilt, anger, love, compassion, nostalgia.

  Is there even an afterlife to watch from?

  God, I have so many questions. But I hope he knows I'm still here. I hope he senses how badly I'm hurting without him, but not because I want him to hurt. Simply because I want, more than anything, for him to know how badly I miss him. How I've never given up on him.

  How much I love him. Because I do, more than anything. I love him.

  I lay my hand over Liv's for a moment, brushing my thumb over her skin before releasing and stepping away. I turn toward them, resting my hands at my sides as I release the heavy breath I've been holding onto.

  "All right, we should probably head out." He steps toward the door and then pulls it open, letting Liv and I walk out first. We move through the house in silence, and no one speaks to us other than a few little waves and mumbled good lucks on the way out the front door.

  We all climb into Carter's Jeep and I can't help but feel like I'm holding my breath the entire drive to the funeral home. As if I'm waiting to fully surrender, keeping everything restrained until I'm forced to truly let go of him.

  I'm not ready.

  We pull in front of the large building, the invisible weight around my shoulders growing heavier and heavier with each passing minute.

  He parks, and we sit there silently, my eyes glancing at the clock every few minutes before remaining locked on the imposing experience in front of us. Liv mutters something about talking to my mom and climbs out of the Jeep.

  Carter and I sit in the quiet and his hand reaches over to grasp my own. He doesn't say a word, and instead simply sits next to me, letting me pull from his peaceful spirit.

  "I can't breathe," I whisper, feeling my lungs constrict in my chest and my heart rate spike at the sudden loss of oxygen. It's like I don't even want to anymore.

  "Yes, you can, baby," he assures me, turning in his seat so his soft blue eyes are focused on me. He leans forward, pressing his hands against my face and tugging me toward him. "Look at me."

  "I can't," I whisper as my words break over the gravel stuck inside my throat. "I can't do this."

  "You can," he repeats himself.

  Tears fall down my cheeks while my heart hammers against my flesh. Beating, beating, beating, into me while my stomach twists in apprehension. "God, I'm not ready to say goodbye." I look at Carter through blurry vision, knowing full well I'm ruining the makeup I put on for today. "How the hell do I let go of him now?" The words come out on gritted teeth, resisting me.

  He's silent, and I know in my heart he wishes he could change this. That's who he is—good, and kind, and compassionate.

  "If I had the perfect solution for you, I'd give it in a heartbeat, Bloom," he whispers, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear before gripping my chin and tilting my head up toward his. "All I know, is that you don't have to let go of him. You don't have to say goodbye. Because these people who love us? Who we love unconditionally? They'll always be with us." His hand shifts to caress the back of my head, "In here," and then falls over my chest where my heart furiously pounds away. "And here. Always. Your dad loved you more than anything. He'll never be far."

  It's hard, hearing the kind and wonderful things people say to you in times of grief. You listen, and you know, logically, it's true. It's beautiful, but sometimes the knowledge doesn't take away the pain.

  "But it hurts," I choke out on quiet cries. "It hurts so fucking bad."

  "I know, baby. I don't think it'll ever not hurt. I think you'll learn to live with the ache of missing him. It'll become a piece of your life along with happiness and excitement and sadness and anger. He has his own home inside of you along with everything else." He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, kissing me in a way that gifts his own strength.

  I don't know how to take it though, not now. I don't know how to feel anything other than the agony of losing him.

  I pull back and offer a sad smile, gripping his hands tightly in my own before finally forcing a deep breath into my lungs.

  Releasing it, I turn back toward the front of the Jeep, gripping the handle and finally pulling the door open. I step out just as Carter jumps out on the other side and walks over to me. He holds out his elbow and I slide my hand through it, holding onto him with every ounce of strength I can manage.

  My legs feel weak, my chest empty while my heart rattles in its cage. My lungs hardly work, and every breath is like a dagger scraping along my already sensitive skin.

  Each step is a weighty movement and my mind has to force every inch closer to the building holding my nightmare. Carter slowly reaches forward and clasps the handle, pulling it open as the sound of soft, classical music plays ahead of us.

  It looks like a church.

  Pews upon pews. Small smatterings of people clustered in little groups of hushed whispers. Stained glass on the windows, showcasing parables I couldn't even begin to understand in this moment.

  We step through, and my eyes absently scan the room for the one person I haven't seen in months now.

  "Bloom." My mother's voice slips thro
ugh my ears, sending waves of hesitation rolling over my spine. My eyes suddenly land on her dark, curly hair and bright green eyes. Everything inside of me warms at the sight of her, even though I can't understand her immediate reaction to this.

  She's familiar, and she's still a piece nearer to him I can manage. We haven't been close in a few years, but the reality doesn't take away from my childhood with her. It doesn't detract from the ways we were close as I grew up.

  "Mom," I say quietly. The undeniable knot building in my chest is filled with a heaviness I hadn't anticipated when I saw her. She rushes forward and Carter steps to the side in order to let her through.

  Her arms wrap around my shoulders and she pulls me tightly against her. I can't help it, I feel like I'm falling apart now. Lost again, new waves of pain and guilt and anger ripping through me like new.

  I hate this.

  How long will this last? Wounds being torn open again and again and again?

  Her hand moves over my hair, comforting me while I cry. "I'm so sorry, Bloom," she whispers, and I don't know why, but it's the exact thing I needed to hear in order to give me the tiniest bit of strength.

  Just an I'm sorry. That was it. At least for now, and I can settle for that while we move through this difficult situation.

  I pull back and my lips tug into a small smile, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and reach back for Carter's hand. We all chat briefly and she shows us where our seats are saved at the front of the small room.

  Liv is here and she stands in the appointed space, looking back with a kind expression while we walk toward her.

  There aren't many people here and it sends an unfortunate wash of disappointment rolling through me. I know my father hasn't had many friends over the years at this point, but that in itself seems like a disservice to him.

  Maybe someone else could have helped in the ways I couldn't.

  I shake the thought free of my mind though, because I need to realize there was nothing I could have done to change this. Nothing anyone else could have done. It wasn't any of our faults, it wasn't my dad’s fault.

  It just...was.

  I still can't believe it's real.

  We sit down beside her, Carter to my left and my mother to my right. Each of them holding my hands, and Liv reaches across to run her palm over my leg in encouragement.

  I'm thankful for these people. All of them. Despite the tension and wild emotions we've all been experiencing, they're here for me. Supporting, taking care of, strengthening. I couldn't ask for anything more my darkest, lowest moment and my fingers tighten over Carter's as my head falls against his shoulder.

  Breathe.

  I remind myself to force the steady rhythm.

  In, out.

  In, out.

  But it's difficult. Little moments of feeling okay mixed in with longer portions of feeling like trash. And on top of my hangover? It's all so overwhelming.

  We move through the beginning of the ceremony in quiet voices. My father's casket is already at the gravesite, and I know once we finish here, we'll walk out there to give our final words and burial.

  I almost can't anticipate it. And part of me feels like it's dissociating while I listen to the priest speak about life and death.

  Life and death. Unavoidable. Intentional. Unintentional.

  Love. Suffering. Pain. Regret. Passion. Excitement. Guilt. Shame. Forgiveness. Compassion. Hate. Beauty. Love.

  Words on repeat in my mind, continuous patterns of what life is. What we experience and fail to recognize at different moments.

  What is life?

  I scoff, to myself, and Carter glances down as I pull my hands free of his and my mother's before rubbing them up and down my face.

  This can't be real.

  Suddenly, it's over. This portion of the event and we're all standing and walking out of the building, moving toward his grave.

  I'm missing all of this.

  The sun is bright today and I find that fitting for what we're walking into. Bloom is detached, I can feel it. But not because she's refusing to feel things.

  No. I think she's feeling too much.

  She's always felt everything around her, and with being the closest person to her father at his funeral, she holds a weight everyone else doesn't.

  She was the last person to see him. To converse with him on healthy grounds. God, I feel for her, and I hate there's nothing else I can offer in order to make this better for her.

  We walk through the graveyard until we've arrived at his plot. My hand rests on the small of Bloom's back while Liv stands at her other side holding her hand. Her mom says a few words. Kind, gentle, forgiving. But she moved on a long time ago from this—from him.

  Bloom is next, and it's like we're connected on this other level. I can feel her trembling under my touch, I can practically hear her heart pounding beside me.

  She's strong, though. I know she is, and even in this moment when she may not feel it in herself—it's there. Her strength and power and independence. Every single characteristic her father was so incredibly proud of.

  Bloom forces a heavy breath into her lungs, her chest rising slowly before finally falling as she steps away from us. Her quiet stride moves over the grass as birds chirp and sing around us.

  Her hands shake in front of her, at her waist, where someone would usually hold a piece of paper, or cards in order to get through their speech.

  That's not Bloom though. She feels what she's saying and she lets that be the guide to her words. She's always been the best at speeches, an uncanny ability to speak her heart without the barriers of an outline.

  She clears her throat and glances up, meeting my gaze with watery eyes before looking to the small gathering around his open grave.

  My heart beats for her, in more ways than one.

  "My dad, Samuel Gardener—" Her voice breaks over the first four words and she has to stop. She looks down and her fingers fidget with the fabric of her dress while she actively forces a few deep breaths. "He was everything to me."

  I slide my hands into my pockets, my stomach twists with warring emotions while I watch her. I want to fix this, but I know there's nothing for me to actually restore. And I know how powerful she is, I know she's strong enough to handle these broken pieces on her own—no matter how much I wish I could change all of it for her.

  She's incredible.

  "He was lost, for a while." She pauses again, shifting back and forth on her feet before looking back up to all of us. "My dad—he used to tell these really ridiculous jokes. Before everything changed. When we'd wake up and make breakfast together in the mornings, before going to the studio where he was teaching me all about ceramics. He would say these outrageous things—'dad jokes' if you will." She laughs, and I can't help the subtle smiling pulling at my lips again.

  "'Bloom, do you know where we can get to a veterinarian?' He would ask me." Her hands motion in front of her face with mock concern. "You know, as if something was really wrong with one of our pets. And I'd panic for a split second, before his face gave it away." She squares her shoulders and lifts her arms dramatically. "'Because these pythons are sick'"

  Oh, Jesus.

  Everyone laughs along with her, and it's through the mention of this happy moment that she starts crying again. Tears fall down her face and her little giggles turn to quiet sobs.

  "He was happy," she says in almost desperation, nodding her head up and down briefly. "He was really happy for a while. He was so powerful in what he would say. His jokes, his little speeches, his reprimands and life lessons." She pauses and wipes more tears from her pained face. "His words were his weapon and his healer. He could change people with the things he said, and sometimes that was truly beautiful and amazing. And other times, they were the worst moments to experience."

  I chew on the inside of my cheek as I listen to her. She may not realize it, but she's the same exact way. Her words are powerful in innumerable ways. She reaches into other people's souls, leaving a piec
e of herself behind inside of everyone.

  You never forget Bloom.

  "But he was unlike anyone I've ever met. He was powerful and influential and carried the most beautifully empathetic soul I've ever seen. He changed my life, in countless ways and he'll continue doing so in the memories we hold." She looks back to each of us with an urgency blazing in her eyes. Her shoulders settling and her spine straightening while her voice steadies. "He lives in the ridiculous jokes and inspirational lessons, in the love I hold in my heart, and in the ways I will create my art for the rest of my life. He isn't gone, not truly. And I'm thankful for every single moment I can still spend with him."

  Her face falls for a moment as her hands clasp in front of her. She looks back up and offers a parting smile before nodding and stepping back toward me. I can't help it, I meet her half way, pulling her into my arms as she falls into my embrace. I press a kiss to her head and walk her back to her father's open grave.

  "That was beautiful, Bloom," I whisper, just as Liv leans over and kisses her cheek as well. Her mom steps behind and gently rubs her back, and I can see the silent tears still falling down her face. Her eyes are red and swollen, but her hands have steadied, her trembling subsided for the time being.

  Everyone walks up to his open grave and tosses in little handfuls of dirt or a few flower stems. But when it's time for Bloom, she reaches into a pocket in the side of her dress and pulls out something else entirely.

  I watch as I stand behind her, my eyes following the beige cloth she's slowly unfolding in front of her. When it's open, I realize it's little broken shards of one of her ceramic pieces. She runs her finger tips across them, her lips quivering on hushed cries. Suddenly, she throws the cloth forward, letting the pieces fly free and on top of her father's casket. She watches for a moment, her shoulders fallen forward as she tucks the fabric back into her dress.

  I lift my hand and rest it on the back of her neck, grazing my thumb back and forth across her skin as she steps away. I lean forward as I follow her, whispering in her ear as we walk away from her father's grave. "That was perfect, Baby Bloom. You did him proud today."