by Randa Lynn
When I open my eyes, Phoenix is gone. The park is gone.
I’m in a dark room, only illuminated by a single foggy window. Etched into the fog is I heart you.
I hear Phoenix’s voice. It’s faint, barely audible. “Wake up, Mommy.”
A tear trickles down my cheek as I try to catch my breath, but my eyes stay focused on the window. I walk closer to it and bring my finger up to the writing.
I feel it.
That tug.
That pull.
And then I hear him…
I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to keep myself awake. I’ve barely slept a wink since she’s been in this hospital, determined to stay awake as much as possible. I fall asleep sometimes, but never for too long.
If she wakes up, I don’t want to miss it. If something happens and I’m not here, I’ll never forgive myself. The day before yesterday was by far the scariest day for me. I thought for a second I was losing her.
“Slayter.” Kathy stands at the entrance of Charlie’s ICU cubicle.
“Hey.” I stand up, offering her my chair. My legs need stretching anyway, so I’ll seize the opportunity.
“Thank you.” She sits down, laying her hand over Charlie’s. “How are you?”
I run my fingers roughly through my hair. “How am I? Well, I’ll be better once I know Charlie is going to be okay. I’m scared, Mrs. Beck.”
“Slayter,” she says with a sad smile, “please, call me Kathy.”
“Kathy. I apologize.”
She smiles. “I’m sorry I haven’t really gotten a chance to sit down and talk to you. It’s been a little hectic over the past few days.”
I nod in understanding. “That it has.”
“You’ve been so good to my girl,” she says. She folds a handkerchief and places it on her leg. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell her. “I love your daughter—every single part of her, even the dark parts, more than I could ever explain. I’ll always be here. Wherever she is, I am.”
She wipes a tear from her eye. She looks at Charlie before drawing her eyes back to me. “I wholeheartedly believe that. And if she wakes up from this—“
“She will,” I interrupt. She has to.
“I believe that, too,” she agrees. “I’m also not naïve enough to think that she won’t possibly have some type of long term, even permanent, consequences from this.”
“I’m willing to live with that. As long as she lives, I don’t care.”
She stands from the chair and walks over to me, placing her hand on my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Slayter Beck.”
I think they’re giving me more credit than I deserve. I’m no saint. I just refuse to walk away. Because if I do, I know I’ll never have a heart again. If she dies, which she damn well better not, my heart will be buried six feet under.
Walking away would be a hell of a lot easier than sitting here, waiting to see which side of the line she crosses over—life or death. But I couldn’t walk away, even if I wanted to.
I look down at Charlie. Her breathing shallow; the hum of the machine is the only thing cutting through the heavy silence. There’s so much I want to say, so much I need to say, but every time I try to get the words out, I can’t. This time is no different. So without taking my eyes off Charlie, I tell Kathy, “Thank you.”
She gives me a quick hug. “I’m going to go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat while I call Charles. He woke up sick, so he wasn’t able to come this morning.” I nod.
Once she’s gone I find my way back to my seat. Sitting on the edge of the chair, I grab Charlie’s small hand between both of mine. I just watch her for a few minutes, hoping those eyes of hers will flutter open. Days have passed since I’ve been able to gaze into those eyes. Pieces of my heart break off minute by minute. I need her to wake up. I have so much to tell her, so much I need her to know.
Sitting here, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, I think about everything.
Life.
Death.
Choices.
Falling in love with Charlie was beyond my control. I didn’t want to want her, but I couldn’t stay away. Once I realized how deep my feelings were, it was too late for my heart, and it was way too early for hers.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned about life in the past eight months, it’s that it doesn’t stop. Not for anything or anyone. And even when your world stills, everyone else’s continues to march on. Time stops for no one.
I rub my thumb over her wrist as I begin to talk to her like she is sitting here, not in a coma.
“Hey beautiful,” I begin. “I know you’re hard-headed. And I know if there is anyone in this world who is strong, it’s you. I know you’ve felt weak at times, so weak that you couldn’t go on, but you’re here. And you’re still fighting. I’d like to think that reason is me.” I laugh at myself, despite the crushing ache in my chest. She’d be rolling her eyes at me right now if she could. God, I wish she were rolling her eyes at me right now. “If there is anything in this world that I want, it’s you.”
I take a deep breath and open up the journal to the very last page. I finished reading every other entry last night, but I’ve been unable to read this one. Until now. “I’ve read your words, Charlie. I’ve read every single one, except this last entry, to you. And you know what each one tells me?
“They tell me that you loved without abandon. They tell me that you would have given up anything if that meant Phoenix had everything. These entries showed me that you weren’t only his mother, but you were his world, and he yours. But the thing is, Charlie, just because he’s not here, and just because you don’t remember him, doesn’t mean he can’t still be your world.
“He will always be your world. And I’m so okay with that. I wouldn’t want it any other way. He’s your everything. But Charlie, for some crazy ass reason, you’ve become mine. And I don’t know when it happened, or really how, but you have left a mark on my heart so large that nothing will ever fill it.” I put my fist over my heart, wishing she could see me. “I’ve got you, Charlie. I’ve got you so far in this heart of mine, there’s no removing you from it. So, whether you like it or not, I’m not going anywhere.
“Now, I’m going to read this, and please don’t laugh at me if I tear up. Because you’ve brought out the pussy in me. I’m emotional like a hormonal woman. I’m not ashamed. I’m very confident in my manhood. So, here it goes. The last entry in your notebook. And the last hope I have in you remembering Phoenix.”
October 15, 2011
Right now. At this very moment, you’re climbing up the slide. It’s taken me almost two hours to let you attempt it on your own. But you said, “I’m big, Mommy. I can do it.”
Oh, you are big, my little guy. So big, and you’re growing every day. Oh, there you are on the top of that slide, waving at me like you’re the king of the world.
You’re the king of mine.
You slid down the slide.
You did it. All by yourself. I’m so proud of you. I’m so very proud of you.
(Okay, this is about fifteen minutes later. You requested my playtime.)
You have now mastered the monkey bars. You are testing my nerves and just how much they can handle with your fearless personality. But remember, always be fearless. Fear anchors us. Fear keeps us from our dreams.
I want you to accomplish every dream you ever have. Whether that dream is to fix sandwiches at the local deli or running a Fortune 500 company. You reach for those dreams. Never let someone make you think your dreams are too small. For the only dream that is too small is the dream we never dream at all.
You’ve grown into such a sweet, caring little boy. I don’t know how I got so lucky to be your mommy, but I thank my lucky stars every single day that you’re mine.
(Twenty minutes later.)
There is one lone little tire swing under a big oak tree. I never understood why it was there. It sticks out like a
sore thumb against all this updated playground equipment. But you love that tire swing. You have to swing on it every time we come. “But Mommy, everyone else ignores it. I don’t know why. It’s my favorite,” you always say. You have such a big heart. You even care about inanimate objects.
I hope one day my heart grows as big as yours. Even a portion would do.
I’ve had such an amazing day with you. The park has always been my favorite place to go with you. It’s simple, yet brings you the greatest joy.
You bring me the greatest joy.
I love you, Phoenix.
Your heart is my heart. Your home is my home.
Love always, Mommy.
As soon as I say the last sentence, I feel movement. Charlie’s hand jerks.
My heart stops.
The monitors go crazy.
Nurses and doctors rush in.
They push me outside before the curtains close.
Charlie’s mom walks down the ICU corridor towards me. But I can’t speak. I don’t have to. It’s written all over my face.
Did I just lose her?
OCTOBER 15, 2015
To say time heals all wounds would be a disservice to all of those who mourn.
Time doesn’t heal.
Time strengthens.
Over time, we learn to cope, we learn to deal. But healing would require letting go of everything you need to heal from. And getting rid of such things means forgetting, and that isn’t an option I’m willing to live with.
There is so much I’ve learned about life since I first met Charlie McGee.
Two years ago, on this very night, I barged into this same bar, looking to drink my sorrows away. I don’t know why I stole those shots from her, when I could have waited thirty seconds and ordered my own. But damn, I’m glad I did.
I never would have imagined life would have brought us back together in the way it did—with our siblings’ marriage. And I never would have imagined someone so beautiful, so absolutely perfect, would turn out to be so broken on the inside, fighting demons I couldn’t compete with.
Charlie’s pain went far deeper than I ever could have imagined, and although I hate that it got to the point it did, I learned so much from it. I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible. I learned just how unbreakable someone could be, even when the world tries breaking you.
I stare at the two shots in front of me and push one to the side, waiting for someone to come swoop it up like I did two years ago. I pick up one shot, putting the amber colored liquor to my lips. As soon as I’m about to pour it back, someone sits directly beside me. I bring the shot glass from my lips, setting it down, and slowly turn my body to face them.
I smile.
She smiles back.
It’s a silent promise spoken with a single glare.
We both pick our shot glasses up and hold them out for a toast.
Weakness breeds strength. I know because I’ve lived it. I’ve been at the lowest of lows, and once you’re so far down, there’s either death or triumph. I straddled that line for days upon days.
Thank God death didn’t win, because looking back, I wasn’t anywhere near ready for her. But depression and pain and agony, it clouds your vision where all you see is black. There will be days where the darkness moves away, but it never stays away for long. At least that’s the way it was for me back then.
I let my depression control me instead of me controlling my depression.
It’s an ugly thing to be alive without ever living. It’s an even uglier thing to want out, to need out, in order for your demons to go away. When you can’t get a hold on your depression, it’s like being blind with eyes wide open. Everything is right there in view, yet you see absolutely nothing but darkness.
I was drowning while holding on to the life raft. No could save me. I had to save myself.
It’s been a long road to recovery. Every day is a battle, but every day I wake up and smile because I’m alive, and my memories keep me holding on when the darkness comes knocking at my door.
Memories.
Every single one of them came back to me, like a tidal wave of life and love, happy and sad, and everything in between.
My son.
His first breath.
His first word.
His first steps.
His first birthday.
Every little detail I’ve longed and ached for every single day since I woke up after my accident is here. It’s in my heart and soul. It’s alive in my mind. The memories are so vivid that, when I close my eyes, it seems completely tangible. I can hear, touch, smell, and taste everything revolving around a certain memory. I spent so long yearning for my memories, that when I finally got them, I couldn’t believe it. I remember dreaming about Phoenix at the park, even though I’m still unsure it was just a dream. Then, I heard Slayter’s voice, and I knew that, even though Phoenix will always be on my mind and in my heart, I belonged with him.
When I think back over my life the past four years, I don’t regret a thing. I’m not proud of how far down into darkness I let myself become. Even admitting how depressed I was is a hard reality to face. It’s a truth I’ll have to live with, but as long as I’m living, I’ll accept that.
To say I don’t have my bad days would be a lie. The difference between the Charlie I am now and the Charlie I was then is… well… everything.
I’m no longer suffocated by the shit life threw at me. I no longer wallow in self-pity, too consumed by grief to crawl out. I no longer drown in the waters, I walk on them.
I still mourn. Every single day I mourn, but I let my sorrow help others instead of kill my soul.
I still think a shrink was the biggest waste of my time. There wasn’t a single thing I ever learned in that office that helped me deal with living with grief and depression. What does help me, though, is other people. People, like me, who are hurting with no one else around them who understand.
That’s why six months ago I created Phoenix’s Haven, a group of people from all walks of life, all kinds of heart ache, who just need to talk to someone who understands what it’s like battling depression. We meet weekly. Most people come every Thursday. We listen. We give advice. We tell our stories. Our fears. We don’t judge.
The thing about depression is, although we know we have it, it’s often-times too difficult to admit to others. It’s not something those who battle it enjoy. It’s not a flag we want to wave around. But in Phoenix’s Haven, we can wave that flag, because everyone battles their own demons of depression, and we are all there for one common goal—to conquer.
I open the door of the black brick building and walk inside. The smell of liquor settles all around me. Sliding my phone in my clutch, I walk towards the bar. My heart beats faster with every step I take, every step one step closer to him. Sliding onto the empty stool, I notice as soon as he senses me.
He turns his head towards me and smiles.
I smile back.
We both pick up our shot glasses. They dangle in the air like hope on a string.
“Here’s to life,” I start. “Here’s to the man who never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself. Here’s to the life I’ve come to love and appreciate. Here’s to memories. May they forever be engrained into my soul. Here’s to Phoenix, the biggest part of my soul. My reason for existing. As long as I live, I’ll live for him.”
“Here’s to the journey of us,” he says. “May we never forget what made us who we are today. Here’s to our future—together. Let’s never forget that as long as we have each other, we have everything. And here’s to the greatest woman I’ve ever known. Your strength is immeasurable. Your beauty is incomparable. I love you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you for every tomorrow to come.” We clink our glasses together. “I’ve got you, Charlie.”
We both pour our shots back and slam the empty glasses on the bar.
I can’t help the smile that plasters across my face. I am completely enamored with this ma
n. Every day he loves me. Every day he shows me how much he cares. Every day he makes me fall more and more in love with him. I lean in and gently brush my lips with his before saying, “I love you, too. And thank you. Thank you for being my light. It’s so easy to love someone in their brightest hours. It’s hard to love when someone is under the veil of darkness. You loved me in my dark, and helped me find my light. Thank you for helping me remember. I owe my life to you, Slayter Beck.”
I stare into those stone gray eyes.
Staring back at me is my hope. Strength. Love.
He brings his hand up, cupping it around the nape of my neck, while fiddling with my ring—a single black diamond. “Now, I’m going to kiss you, Mrs. Beck.” Our lips collide together, forgetting every other bar patron around us. He consumes every single piece of me. Our kiss is a promise. To me. To him. To us. To our future.
Two years ago to this day, I first laid eyes on this man, never knowing where that would lead us. Two years later, we have lived, loved, laughed, cried, and even nearly died. But his love, his strength, his undying faithfulness to me, got me through.
I remember thinking I would never get married. Back then I couldn’t. I was never in the right frame of mind. Depression clouded my vision. It was a constant shade from the sun, which was just begging to break through. I wasn’t trying to fight it back then. I was trying to mask it, pretend it didn’t exist, but every day it crept its way into the forefront of my mind—eating away at every morsel of strength within me.
Depression is a thief. It steals your joy, your excitement. Most of all, it steals your soul. But a thief can be defeated.
Slayter’s love is more than I ever deserved back then. I didn’t deserve his love because I didn’t love myself. But, every day I get better, I grow stronger. Every day I’m becoming closer to the woman I long to be.
I’ll get there. I’m getting there.
I’ll have my bad days, but I’ll make it through. Depression might try to pull me under again, but it won’t win. Because every day my will comes from my son, my husband, and my family. When darkness knocks, trying to reenter my life, I’ll smile, knowing it will never come in.