Take My Breath Away

by Wendy L. Wilson

  I move just a bit to test if he will wake up, but as usual his arms grasp for me. For a moment, I consider crawling back under the covers with him, but then I decide against it. My family needs me today. Slowly sliding my hands up to his other pillow, I move it to the other side of him as a stand in for me and draw back as his hands wander to find me, again. That’s when I quickly slide the pillow within his hold. He surrounds the pillow in his arms and pulls it firmly to him.

  I stare down into his peaceful face, smiling for a second before I run the pad of my index finger along his bottom lip and place a barely there peck against his lips. As I move away, his tongue slides over his lips, moistening them as if he is craving my kisses.

  My heart skips a beat as I think about how much I love him and just how hard it is going to be to say goodbye. I just can’t do this now! I can’t deal with anything else! He’s right, I have to face this! I have to figure out how to cope with this now and I know I have to do it on my own.

  I glide my body silently off the bed and quietly get dressed.

  After I am done, I grab his phone from the nightstand and immediately see a missed text from Abby.

  Abby: Is Alyssa still there?

  No wonder he knew before I even stepped foot into his room last night. Abby must have called him. I don’t think or worry about that, I just bring up an empty text screen and type a simple message that will make this as easy as possible for both of us.

  I look over my message and read it word for word to make sure it is everything I need to say for now, even though it is not nearly all that I want to say or should say.

  Judd . . . I’m sorry I came here last night. I really shouldn’t have, but thank you for being here when I needed you most. I know there is so much that needs to be said, but I just need time. I can’t deal with everything right now. I love you.

  After reading it, I slowly tap on the delete button over and over, correcting my message before sitting it back on his nightstand, without hitting the send button. Glancing back at him one last time, I decide to whisper the words I just deleted, “I love you. Goodbye, Judd,” and then I walk out the door.

  I pull his door shut as quiet as possible, praying he doesn’t wake.

  If he wakes up, I know he will try to stop me and at this point, he would have no trouble convincing me to stay. Honestly, all I want to do is curl up in his arms and hide from the world forever.

  The sound of dishes clanking together behind me makes me jump and I snap my head around. Evan stands at the island with his typical bowl of cereal in front of him. He folds his arms across his chest in a defiant stance and levels me with a serious glare that I’ve only seen on his face once before.

  “Isn’t sneaking out usually typical of the man?” he says in a bland tone and he isn’t being his normal joking self.

  I don’t say anything, but instead make a bee-line for the front door. I can’t deal with any confrontations right now and clearly Evan isn’t up to speed on the latest events.

  Reaching for the knob, I have every intention on racing out before he can say another word but when Evan speaks again, I stop dead in my tracks.

  “Just for the record, I think your roommate is a lying bitch! You have to know he wouldn’t have slept with her! He’s dying over this!” he spits out and I realize how angry he is with me.

  I also realize after I have come to terms with everything, I may in fact, have to speak to Bethany after all.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I look down at the door, desperately wanting to be on the other side.

  I don’t know what I’m sorry for, but I feel like I should apologize.

  Evan’s tone softens as he adds, “Are you even going to say goodbye to him?”

  I straighten my back; raise my chin and turn to answer him before leaving. “I did . . .” I take a deep breath, “ . . . and now I am going to say goodbye to my dad.”

  All the blood drains from Evan’s face as he looks at me with pity and sorrow.

  I don’t wait for an apology or an ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ comment, I just turn and leave.

  By the time I left Judd’s, Mom and Abby were already home with Andrea and her family. The hours pass by slowly and we are all complete zombies, each in our own world.

  By night’s end, the only sound that registers in my dark room, aside from Abby’s sobs in the next room, is my phone chirping with a new message. Picking up my phone, my eyes quickly zone in to Judd’s name. All day long I kept expecting to hear from him, even though I said I needed time, but he never called or texted, until now.

  Judd: I know you said you need time, but I just want you to know you have been on my mind all day. You all have been. Alyssa, I love you so much!

  My heart tenses with each word I read and I want so badly to text him back; to hear his voice and to beg him to come over right this minute, but I don’t. Instead, I curl up under my sheets, bringing my knees into my chest and pressing the back of my hand into my pillow, still clutching onto my phone. I stare at my now black screen, feeling comfort that Judd was the last one to send me a message. I focus on his words, repeating them over and over in my mind until I fall asleep.

  I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you . . .

  The next day goes much the same; however, I finally question Abby about the text to Judd. She admits that she had been texting and talking to him each day to fill him in on Dad’s condition. She even said that he had visited Dad in the ICU that first day. I can’t even admit to myself the level of emotion that stirred within me to know that he got to see him before he passed.

  Dad and Judd grew fairly close during our month together. They were like two college buddies, always retreating to the backyard and enjoying one of their guy talks. I’m so grateful that they had one last chance to see each other.

  Later in the day, Abby, Andrea and I tag along with Mom to meet with the monument designer. We soon realize that Dad and Mom were way ahead of us all, already having picked out a headstone. Of course Dad would have thought of that. He wouldn’t have wanted to leave us with that chore.

  After showing us the beautiful granite stone Mom and Dad picked out, we sit down in a small conference room and put our heads together to come up with something worthy of Dad to be scripted on it.

  Dad had always been the spirit of the family, our positive influence when things aren’t going the right way, so nothing less than perfect will do. Mom stays strong the whole time while Abby, Andrea and I continuously break down and have to leave the room. I know Mom is putting on her brave face, but I also have no doubt that she crashes to her bed each evening and cries herself to sleep; I do.

  On the way home and later that night, she busies herself with telling little stories of Dad and making us feel as though he is still here.

  I can’t help but wonder when I felt that brush of wind across my back in the hallway the night he passed, if a part of Dad’s spirit united with Mom. I guess I’ll never know, but it’s a good thought.

  After that, we stay home, taking each day as it comes and dealing with the pain in our own separate ways.

  My means of handling Dad’s death is probably not the best idea, but I read Judd’s texts over and over. I haven’t talked to him since the night I showed up at his apartment, but after the second message I received from him reading:

  Judd: You’re all I’m thinking of. I’m still here and I love you.

  I noticed a pattern.

  He sends me a text each night before bed so I know he is thinking of me; so I know I am not alone and so he can keep his promise of being here for me. Last night my text visit from him read:

  Judd: ( ) This is me holding you! I wish you were in my arms right now! I love you!

  No matter how heartsick I am at that particular moment, I always feel a bit of comfort when I read his texts. I find myself anxiously awaiting his messages each evening.

  I know it would be so easy to pick up the phone and just say “I love you” and “Let’s get back together,�
�� but in the end I know I have to deal with this first before I can straighten out the mess from last weekend.

  Abby has been dealing with the loss by sitting for hours out in Dad’s workshop.

  I always thought that is what I would do since most of the memories I have of him were sitting at that old beat up worktable. Funny how the way you think you may react to a tragedy is usually the opposite of how you actually act when it happens.

  Mom, on the other hand, spends most afternoons in their bedroom with photos scattered all over the bed. She has been clipping, cutting, pasting, and sticking photos in albums. So far, I haven’t managed to be able to look at a single picture of Dad for very long without bursting into tears.

  Right now, I sit on the floor of my parent’s old bedroom and stare at the tower that I made for Dad. I study every swoop and line of his hand writing, where he wrote his and mom’s names. I can barely handle being without Judd, so I have no idea how Mom can do this. How can she live without him?

  My eyes well up with tears for the ache that I know she must be storing inside her heart everyday; the emptiness she must feel without his arms to hold her.

  I look down at my phone and click it on to see last night’s text from Judd. I gaze at the parentheses and run my fingertips over them before my phone screen can go to sleep mode again.

  How can she live without him, is all I keep wondering. The respect I have for Mom swells with that thought and I realize just how proud I am to call her my mom.

  A tear falls down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly, afraid to smear my makeup or mess up my appearance in any way. I am dressed in an a-line black dress with my hair carefully woven into a braid and make-up caked on, courtesy of Abby.

  My father’s viewing starts in a little over an hour and I have no idea how I am going to do this. Mom opted for an open casket and urged me to say my goodbyes this time. I promised I would say goodbye, but made no promises to face him when I do.

  I’m afraid that if I see him lying there with all the life drained out of him; that is the image that will stick with me. I don’t want to remember that. I want to remember his smile, his laughter, the way he wore a baseball cap like he was still a kid and the way he smoothed over any drama with carefully orchestrated words so effortlessly. That is what I do remember; all of it is meticulously cataloged in my mind and heart.

  I may not look through photos like Mom does or sit at that work bench imagining Dad building something magnificent, but I take a stroll down memory lane about every other minute of the day. I revisit our fishing trips, movie marathons we had, woodworking adventures, laughing with him till my stomach hurt and I remember everything; every second. So I guess in a way, I am learning to cope, because sometimes when I think about him, I smile instead of cry.

  I don’t really believe the saying that time heals all wounds or will ease your pain, but I do believe that as time goes on, you tend to dwell on their life more than their death. That ultimately makes it easier. I think losing him will always hurt the same, though.

  As I focus on all of the handmade treasures that line the shelf, I straighten my dress to keep it from getting wrinkled when the door creaks open behind me.

  Andrea walks in looking absolutely stunning in a dark navy blue skirt and a white lace top. She and I have never been close. Considering she was starting middle school before I began to walk has always put a bit of an age gap in our sisterly bond, but just like when Dad was first diagnosed and how it made me and Abby grow closer, I see the same thing happening with us all through this catastrophe. I think that would make Dad proud.

  She takes a seat beside me and stares at the shelf. Bending forward, she grabs the wooden box that she made Dad so many years ago.

  “Oh my gosh, he kept this?” she says in disbelief and then smiles as she sits it back down.

  I smile along with her, leaning my head against her shoulder as she pulls me into a gentle hug.

  “Are you ready for this?” Her voice cracks when she says it and even though she’s not expecting a reply, I answer anyway.

  “No . . .” I mumble.

  “Come on kiddo. We need to get there early. I need you to keep the kids away from the front. I don’t want them to see Dad like that. I want them to remember silly grandpa sticking his tongue out or crossing his eyes. You know all those goofy faces he made.” She waves her hand in the air with a smile and I see the unshed tears in her eyes.

  I hug her back before we all make our way to the car.

  The viewing is supposed to last four hours, but by hour two my feet are killing me and I am exhausted. I honestly haven’t even had time for a single tear between all the hugs, condolences and offers of prayers. I float from one person to the next as body after body falls into me whispering their apologies for my loss. Frankly, I’m sick of hearing that. I don’t go up to the casket, I refuse to, but I do look from afar. I can see a man that resembles my dad through the fog of people lined up to get a glimpse, but it’s not my dad.

  My hands fidget and I look around, not for anything or anyone in particular, but then I see exactly who I convinced myself I wasn’t looking for. A tall figure stands in front of Abby with shaggy brown hair that is combed back and a black suit jacket and black slacks. His back is to me, but I know it has to be him.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but I fly through the funeral home, pushing people out of the way when Kyle blocks my path.

  “Hey, I’m so sorry. You know if you need anything, I’m here, ok?” he leans towards me for a hug, but I lean to look around him. “Listen, I am so sorry, Alyssa.”

  I don’t say a word; I just wander past him as he tries to apologize for past mistakes. All I want is to get into the other room where Abby is, where he is. I need to see his face. I need to be wrapped in his arms so that the pain does not drown me.

  Once I get away from Kyle, I continue on my path into the next room until I see Abby standing alone and him nowhere in sight. He didn’t even come find me.

  I drop into a pew with an added sadness in my heart and decide to spend the rest of the viewing in this very spot. I don’t have the energy to be hugged or questioned on how I am holding up by anyone else. Right then, Kyle scoots in beside me.

  “Hey, how about I just sit quietly and keep you company . . . so you’re not alone.”

  I smile at his suggestion; feeling defeated and beat down, but grateful for the distraction.

  After the viewing, I head back out to the car with Mom and Abby when my phone chirps notifying me that I have a new text message. I slide the message open to view it and see it’s from Judd.

  Judd: Just Breathe! Close your eyes and feel my arms around you! I’m here if you need me. I love you! ( )

  I do as he instructs and keep my eyes closed for the whole ride back home.

  The next day is a haze of hurt, fear and denial.

  I stand there, motionless, as the preacher speaks kind words over my father. I bow my head when he prays and I step up to throw a rose in as they lower Dad down into the ground. Mom finally breaks down as the casket descends further and further away from the surface of the earth.

  As everyone staggers away from the gravesite, she falls to her knees and Abby and Andrea are immediately at her side.

  I stand two feet behind them and sway back and forth, losing touch with gravity. A part of me feels as if he is being set free today, another part of me is screaming out in anguish from seeing him locked away in the ground. I guess reality is hitting us all, that we will never hug him again or feel his hands sweep away our tears. Daddy, where are you? You promised you would still be here!

  Right then, my legs begin to give out and a pair of arms surround my waist to pull me back. I look over my shoulder and Judd’s hazel eyes are looking back at me.

  “I’ve got you,” he says so easily, like he has never left my side.

  And just like his text messages have done the last few days and just like having him so close the night my dad died, he restores my strength
so that I can face this moment.

  “Let’s help your mom,” he says and then pulls me forward with him.

  I huddle down with my sisters and Mom on the ground as the grounds keeper finishes lowering Dad into the earth. Judd and Greg stand back behind us, giving us time to mourn and grieve as a family. We let it all out, frantically grasping onto each other for support.

  Eventually, Greg folds Andrea into his arms and Judd’s arms find me as well. I gladly accept his comfort, melting to his chest and soaking his shirt with my tears.

  After my sisters’ and I slow our sobs, we all stand quietly waiting for Mom to recover. My heart breaks for her as I look up into Judd’s eyes and see the love he feels for me.

  He links his hand with mine and I stay as close as I can to him. For now, all thoughts are put away. Today, I am not a girl in love with a boy who broke my heart. Today, I am simply a girl who desperately needs someone to hold me together before I crumble to pieces.

  Andrea and Greg end up leaving first and soon Abby and Mom gather the strength to walk away, not far behind us. He offers to drive me home and I accept, knowing it will be hard to leave. After waving goodbye to my family, Judd takes his keys out of his pocket, but hesitates on unlocking the doors.

  “You feel up to taking a walk with me?”

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, I regret not going home with Mom. I really had thought that he would not push me to talk about what is going on between us today. In fact, I had counted on just a peaceful quiet ride with him back home. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no, but somehow he senses my inner conflict.

  “Don’t worry. I know today has nothing to do with us. I don’t want to talk. I just want to show you something. Will you come with me?”

  He easily places his hand out to his side for me to take in my own; and I do. I thread my fingers through his and then huddle my body against his for support as we walk back through the cemetery, heading away from my father’s grave. I sneak glances in my dad’s direction, hoping to feel his presence or see the exact moment that his soul ascends to heaven.