by Holly Jacobs
“Good. I can sleep now.”
“You sleep. Rest. Let go. I’ll be here with you.”
“Hayden, promise me you’ll remember.”
“Remember? I’ll remember everything about you.”
“No. Remember what I said. Live out loud. You were such a quiet little girl. You hid in the shadows. You’re hiding again. You can’t do that. Live out loud. Promise?”
Hayden nodded, and that was enough for Kathleen. She shut her eyes and fell back to sleep.
Live out loud?
Hayden wasn’t sure how to do that. But somehow she’d try to figure it out. She’d promised, and she’d never broken a promise to Kathleen.
Hayden sat there through the rest of the night, holding Kathleen’s hand, afraid if she’d let go, Kathleen would, as well. She lost all sense of time. All she knew was the rhythmic sound of Kathleen’s breathing. It was so soft, so shallow, with longer and longer moments of apnea, where Kathleen’s breathing stopped altogether. Each time, Hayden thought that it was done, but each time, Kathleen drew another breath.
Brian came into the room in the wee hours, just before the sun would start to brighten the sky.
“Hayden?” With just her name, he asked a multitude of questions.
“She was awake for a few minutes. She talked about how much she loved us, asking us to remember her …” Hayden’s voice broke and the tears that were always so close to the surface, welled in her eyes. “It won’t be long now. She asked me to hold her hand. I think she just wants someone to be here with her.”
Hayden turned and looked at Brian, grief stricken.
“Would you sit with her a while? I’ve got to use the bathroom, and then I’ll make us some coffee.”
Brian nodded. Hayden got up and he took her seat. She stayed for a moment, lingering in the doorway, watching Brian gently pick up his mother’s hand. He brushed a lock of Kathleen’s thin hair from her forehead, leaning down and whispering to her.
Hayden left him to it.
She had no doubt that this was Kathleen’s goodbye. She knew it as a nurse, but more than that, she knew it as someone who loved Kathleen. She was saying her goodbyes because she loved them.
Problem was, Hayden wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Kathleen had said everything she needed to say. She just hoped the kids listened. She might be sick, but she could see that Brian and Hayden had left each other emotionally. She worried about them, but knew they had to find their own way back. She’d done what she could. Now it was time to let go. She was so tired.
She’d had a good life.
A very good life.
It had been filled with people she loved, who loved her in return. And in the end, no one could ask for anything more.
It didn’t happen that day.
Kathleen talked to Brian, and later, when Livie came in, she opened her eyes one last time and smiled at her granddaughter then whispered, “I love you.”
Hayden was so proud of her daughter at that moment as she leaned down and kissed her grandmother’s sunken cheek and said, “I love you, too, Nana.”
That was the last time Kathleen spoke.
Each breath was more strained than the last.
It had been days, too, since Kathleen had eaten or had anything to drink. There were times when she grimaced, as if she hurt.
Afraid that even though she couldn’t voice it any longer, there was pain, Hayden talked to Marti who agreed that when it appeared Kathleen was feeling discomfort, Hayden should give her more morphine. And it seemed to work. Kathleen’s sleep was peaceful after that.
It was a gray morning when Kathleen Rose Conway died.
As a nurse Hayden had witnessed death before. And knew that it was rarely the Hollywood version, with the person talking right up until the big movie climax where they’d grip themselves and fall over. Yet, the fact that Kathleen’s death was so anticlimatic didn’t seem right.
One moment she was alive, the next moment, she wasn’t. She just stopped.
One second she was breathing, the next she sighed one last long hiss of air, and didn’t inhale again.
Hayden stood at Kathleen’s bedside, waiting for that next breath, confused.
Brian was standing across from her and Livie was down the hall, dressed and packing her bookbag for school.
Marti was due in an hour.
Brian said softly, “Hayden?” As if he needed some confirmation.
“I don’t think she’s breathing.”
His voice finally roused her. On automatic pilot, she reached for her stethoscope. She pressed it to Kathleen’s chest. There was one heartbeat, followed by a long silence, before there was another.
“Call Livie in.” There was urgency in her voice.
But Brian didn’t need to hear it to know what to do. He was already flying down the hall, and returned with their daughter. He must have already spoken to her, told her what was happening, because there were tears streaming down her face. Livie didn’t bother trying to wipe them aside as she stood next to her father, his arm around her shoulder, as if he could shelter her from the reality of what was going on. Hayden stood nearby.
“It’s okay, Kathleen,” Hayden whispered. “You can let go.”
She couldn’t detect any rise-and-fall of Kathleen’s chest, so she picked up her stethoscope and listened again.
She listened for a very long time.
There was no sound.
Hayden looked up at Brian and Livie, both showing their grief.
“She’s gone.”
Livie’s silent tears gave way to full-out sobs as she buried her face in Brian’s chest.
Hayden knew she should join them, grieve with them, but she couldn’t seem to find her own tears, couldn’t seem to move.
“Hayden?” Brian’s voice was choked with emotion. He held his free arm open to her.
Part of her wanted nothing more than to be enveloped in the comfort of his arms. The other part knew she’d fall apart if she went to him, and she wasn’t sure she could pick up the pieces if she did.
So she didn’t.
She watched as Brian and Livie hugged. When he finally released their daughter, Livie said, “I’m going to my room.”
Understanding Livie’s need for solitude, Hayden nodded.
After she was gone, there was a long, uncomfortable silence.
Hayden said, “Well, I should make calls.” She started to leave the room.
“Sure, it can wait …” began Brian, but as she continued to move toward the door he said, “No, damn it, it can’t wait. It seems as if I’ve been waiting since Mom told us her cancer was back. You’ve shut me out, totally. Completely. I hate it, but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“You really want to have this talk now?” she asked incredulously. “Your mother’s dead.”
“I don’t want to, but Hayden, we have to. I want to comfort you. I want you to comfort me. I want us to pull together. I need you.”
“Don’t you think I’d give you what you want if I could?” So many emotions coursed through her system. Anger. Sadness. Pain. Frustration. She couldn’t tell where one stopped and another began. Add to that, she was exhausted to her very core. Weary both physically and mentally. She’d done all she could. And still, Brian wanted more from her?
“I don’t have anything left to give you Brian. I wish I did, but I don’t. I’m totally tapped out. I can’t share, I can’t pull together. It’s taking everything I have just to keep going. There’s nothing left for you.” She paused and added, “I don’t know if there’s anything left for us.”
“You don’t mean that.” His voice sounded as raw as she felt.
“Your mom hung on to stories of our good times. I can remember them in an academic way, but I can’t feel them. I don’t know if I remember how to let you in … how to love you.”
“Hayden.”
Words. They were only words. But she could see the damage they inflicted.
Hayden knew she s
hould apologize. Should take them back. But she’d meant it when she said she didn’t have the energy.
“I don’t know what I mean, what I want. I only know there are things that need to be done. This isn’t the time for this discussion.”
She thought he was about to argue, to keep pushing. But finally, he nodded.
Feeling as if she had a reprieve, she sprinted into the kitchen. Its bright yellow walls seemed to mock her with happy memories. The room always seemed to reflect warmth, but today, it seemed darker and lacking the comfort it normally had.
Hayden tried to ignore the cold that seemed to seep into her bones as she called Marti, who’d promised to take care of the rest of the arrangements. Someone would be there soon to collect Kathleen’s body.
Body.
At the sound of the word, Hayden started to shake. She knew that Kathleen was gone and all that was left was a shell, but hearing it was different.
“Kathleen is dead,” she whispered to herself, trying the words on and not liking the way they felt.
Hayden stood for a long time at the phone, her body pins-and-needles tingly. Her mind fogged and thick. Her breath coming in shallow gasps.
“Hayden?”
Brian’s voice was tight and filled with pain. It shook her from her stupor. “Everything is being taken care of.”
“Where’s Livie?”
“She went to her room. She didn’t want to see them wheel Mom out.”
“I should go check on her before the transport arrives.” It seemed like just a day ago that a transport brought them home from the hospital. Today, another transport, a different kind, would come to take Kathleen away.
“We’ll go together,” Brian said.
They walked to their daughter’s room in silence.
Brian knocked on Livie’s door. “Honey, can your mom and I come in?”
“Yeah,” came Livie’s tear-strained response.
They went and sat, either side of their daughter on her bed. Livie couldn’t seem to stop her tears, and Hayden couldn’t seem to start hers.
They all sat, each lost in their own misery, until the doorbell rang.
“That’s probably them,” Hayden said.
Brian made some response, and Hayden left him to comfort their daughter while she took care of the next task at hand.
Keeping busy was her mantra that day and the next. There was certainly enough to do. Funeral arrangements, florists, Hospice came for their equipment. Hardest of all was finding Kathleen’s outfit and taking it to the funeral home.
Kathleen had made her wishes known weeks ago. She’d asked for the dress she’d worn to Brian and Hayden’s wedding, the day she’d held the wedding photo. Kathleen’s words echoed in Hayden’s mind. It was a good day.
Hayden stood in the foyer next to the coat tree that held her coat and purse, but she didn’t reach for them. She simply held the plastic bag Kathleen stored the dress in and her hand shook.
“Hayden? Are you okay?” Brian had come down the stairs and she hadn’t heard him.
“Are any of us?” she countered, rather than answering his question.
“I can go with you and take this to the funeral home, if you like.”
“No.” Her response was harsh, even to her own ears.
Brain flinched.
Hayden tried to soften it. “No, you still have people to contact. You should be the one making those phone calls. I can do this.” She ran a finger over the zipper of the bag. “She was so happy at our wedding. Her and Livie. They acted as if they’d run the whole thing, they were so proud.”
She hung the hanger on one of the coat-tree arms and reached for her jacket.
“Our wedding,” Brian repeated. “It was a good day.”
She stopped, her arm not all the way through her coat’s sleeve, the phrase cutting at her.
The words she’d said earlier hung heavily between them.
Hayden didn’t know how to take them back.
She didn’t know how to give Brian what he needed. She wasn’t even sure what it was he needed from her. But she knew he wanted her to break down and share. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
“Hayden, what about us? It’s not right between us. You know it and I know it.”
“Why do you keep pushing? You expect me to grieve your way. I can’t. It’s that simple. Just back off, okay?”
“Fine. Have it your way. I’ll back off.” He stalked from the room.
Hayden took the bag with Kathleen’s dress in it and walked out the door.
She’d fought with Brian before, but never like this. This fight had been different. Harsher. She knew she should have done things better.
She hadn’t been able to save Kathleen, and now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to save her relationship with Brian.
Worse, she didn’t have the energy to even try.
Chapter Fifteen
Funeral homes always seemed muted to Hayden. Soft colors, the overpowering smell of flowers, people’s whispers as they shared their grief. Platitudes, euphemisms employed to try and disguise the truth … someone was gone. In this case, it was Kathleen Conway.
Hayden stood next to Brian and Livie, to the left of the coffin. People viewed the casket, then greeted the three of them after they’d paid their respects to Kathleen. After their obligatory family condolences, they would go sit in the rows of chairs the funeral director had brought in this morning, all lined up, facing the casket that contained Kathleen.
No, not Kathleen, her remains. Kathleen was gone.
Every time Hayden reminded herself of that, the pain struck anew. But she kept saying the words to herself, needing to make them real. So far, it wasn’t working. There was still some small part of herself that couldn’t quite accept that Kathleen wasn’t coming back.
She remembered her first trip to a funeral home. It had been sparsely populated, and there had been only one sad arrangement of flowers. It had been for her father. Her primary emotion that day was a sense of embarrassment that she didn’t feel any kind of grief. She’d been to funerals since, friends and colleagues. All had been sad affairs, but she’d been there as a witness to someone else’s grief.
Today, it was her grief, her family’s, that was on display. And she couldn’t do it.
She hung on to it, clung to it and tucked it away, making a game of hiding it. Telling herself, if she could hold on to it for another ten minutes she’d let it go, then another ten … She crept forward minute by minute. Every time she thought she’d reached the end of her rope, she pushed a bit forward, clung to her pain a bit tighter.
Everyone finally settled and the minister began his eulogy. Hayden didn’t take in much.
Brian left her side and moved over, toward the center of the very crowded room, to the microphone that she realized the minister had vacated.
Brian looked good in his dark blue suit. She noticed there was more than just a hint of gray at his temples. When had he’d turned so gray? She’d missed it.
“I wanted to say something here at the funeral, something that really captured my mother. I looked through books, searching for a quote. I picked up my mother’s Bible and a copy of Hayden’s graduation speech fell out. Holding it, I knew I’d found the words. Hayden’s words. She said, our true home isn’t just a place, it’s a feeling. It’s knowing that this is where you belong. That these are the people you belong to. That the door will always be open to you. Sometimes you’re born into your family, into your home. But if you’re not that lucky, you have to search.”
He set the paper down and looked out. His eyes met Hayden’s. “My mother’s house was not only my home, it was my wife, Hayden’s, my daughter, Livie’s. It was home to everyone who ever walked through the door. And to paraphrase Hayden’s speech, even though my mother’s moved on to a better place, she really hasn’t left home because we take those we love with us. And I know my mother has all of us with her on this new journey.”
He lef
t the microphone.
Knowing she had to do this, still fighting to keep hold of her tears, Hayden rose and walked to the front of the church, passing Brian who was on his way back to their seats. She held out her hand, not sure he’d take it, but needing to touch him.
He hesitated, then reached out, their hands brushing each other lightly. That small feel of him centered and steadied her.
She stood in front of the microphone, looking at the packed room.
“Like Brian, I wanted to say something special up here, something that would commemorate and honor a terrific woman. And like Brian, the words I offer didn’t come from a book, they came from Kathleen herself. She told me that life isn’t about where you go—it’s about the journey. Kathleen filled her journey with love. She opened her heart to her family. She opened her heart to countless patients. She opened her heart to each and every one of you here with us today. Her life mattered to so many people whose own lives were better for having known Kathleen.
“She told me, you can live life quietly, watching the world go by, afraid to take a chance and fail. Or you can throw caution to the wind and live life to the fullest. Take chances. Sure, you’ll fall on your face sometimes, but sometimes you’ll reach new heights. Either way, just trying will take you to new, unexpected horizons. That’s what Kathleen did. She lived her life out loud and the world is quieter for her passing. It’s up to us to live loud and noisy lives in her honor.”
Hayden wished that she could claim to be living out loud, but right now, she was stuck in silence. Enveloped by it, tortured by it.
Pulling back from Brian again had hurt him. Though she knew it, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She wanted to fix things between them, but she didn’t know where to start. She just kept hurting him.
And hurting Brain was the last thing she wanted to do.
Chapter Sixteen
There are degrees of silence. They range from the comfortable, companionable types, to the opposite end of things—to silences that hide things that need to be said, that should be said and aren’t.
Brian looked across the room at Hayden, and knew that since the funeral, theirs had been the latter.