Take My Breath Away

by Wendy L. Wilson

  We come to a stop at the edge of the cemetery and I can still see the mound of dirt alongside Dad’s resting place peeking out from between headstones in the distance. A deep sigh from Judd grabs my attention and I turn to where we have stopped.

  There in front of me is a smooth, gray stone with a picture of an angel etched deep within it and below that, in elegant script writing is engraved:

  Drawing my eyebrows together, I feel the anguish that Judd must have felt right in this exact spot. His hand tightens around mine and I finally look over at him. He stares ahead at his mother’s headstone, not bothering to explain why he brought me here. No words are necessary. I realize that only three short years ago he walked down the same path that I am walking today. He grieved for the loss of a parent just like me, only he didn’t have any one to fall back on for support and to hear stories of their life from. He and his brothers were on their own in the moment they stood here.

  I stare over at Judd, realizing how grateful I am for having someone that understands and that knows how my heart hurts.

  As much as I wish he and I had never took this turn in life, I know that he was placed in it for a reason. What he had told me about fate intervening at precisely the right time when we met holds so much truth to me now.

  He knows exactly what I am feeling, because standing here today and seeing the pain in his eyes, I know that loss is just as fresh for him as it was the day he lost her.

  He knows there are no healing words.

  He knows there is no hug big enough to steal away the pain.

  He knows showing me this will help me to understand that I am not alone and that I will survive this, which means more than anyone else could ever know.

  We stand there surrounded in complete silence for a while longer before he nudges me to walk with him further away from his truck.

  For a moment, my heart stops out of fear that I may finally find out the whole story about where his Dad is as well, but then he leads me away from the cemetery.

  We make our way past the last of the headstones, walking with soft footsteps as if we may wake someone, until we come to a rickety chain link fence at the corner of the property. Judd wastes no time jumping the fence and then turns to help me over.

  I look back at his truck, a little baffled by where we are going. My lips part to ask him what is on his mind, but when his eyes meet mine and a soft smile reaches his lips, all questions drift away. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he carefully guides me across to a wooded area.

  We walk for only a few minutes before a familiarity starts to register in my mind. Once we walk out from beneath the seclusion of the trees and a kiddie park rises up before us, I understand so much. We walk across the park still hand in hand, down a weedy path that I’ve walked before and end up at the sanctuary that is only his and his brothers.’ In this moment, a part of me feels as though he is giving me a part of the peace he feels when he is here; giving me a part of his soul; sharing with me more than words could possibly relay.

  Both our grips tighten on each other’s hands as we sit on the bench above the tribute to his mother and I can’t help but see three boys sitting silently together with so much pain in their hearts while they piece together a beautiful work of art.

  I imagine their mother floating above them as they work, softly showering her love down over them to help ease their broken hearts.

  My eyes seal shut in an attempt to stop the tears from escaping as I grab onto Judd’s arm and pull myself against his side. He knows my pain. He has been in the same place as me and I take comfort in that.

  After a long while spent within the solitude of his mother’s wishing well, we both slowly walk back to his truck with a shared heaviness in our hearts.

  Nestling my head into the comfort of his lap, we let complete silence surround us the entire ride home. From the corner of my eye I see one of Judd’s hands steadily holding onto the wheel as he steers, but his other hand softly weaves through each strand of my hair in between shifting gears.

  As soon as we pull into my driveway, I sit up, expecting to go inside. The instant Judd’s hand reaches out to stop me, I tense up with worry that now he may want to talk about us. I know it has to come at some point, but today I really cannot rehash the night I walked in and found him with her. I can’t deal with that too, no matter how much being apart is killing me. If we get back together for the sake of my grief, then when we least expect it, all the tension and anger from that morning will come crashing down on us. There is a lot of trust to be earned back and just simply acting like it didn’t happen will have consequences down the road.

  He pulls me back to him while shutting off the engine.

  “I thought we could just stay like this for a bit,” he says softly, gently nudging me back to rest against him.

  Realizing he doesn’t want to talk, I do as he requests and don’t fight my desire to be near him for just a bit longer. It used to be Daddy’s arms that helped me feel strong, but I have found that Judd’s hold has the same effect on me, if not more so. He makes me feel as if everything will be ok, especially today.

  We remain in the driveway into the dark hours of the evening. My eyes grow heavy as Judd continues to tangle his fingers through my hair and down my back. His touch soothes and calms me from the outside in and with each caress I’m able to breathe a little easier.

  I slowly ease myself up to sit and give him a weak smile. His hand falls to the seat between us and he looks alarmed from my sudden movement.

  It seems as if we have been sitting here for an hour or two, just listening to soft music from the radio and lost in our own thoughts. Not once has he tried getting me to talk or discuss anything and that means everything to me. I should leave before I end up falling asleep. The longer I’m with him, the harder it is to leave though.

  “I really better go.” I give him a strained smile and pull the door open.

  Judd softly grabs my hand in his to stop me again.

  My heart aches even more as I look down at our joined hands and fear what he might say.

  “Alyssa, please let me be with you through this. I know we need to talk about what happened, but can’t we cross that bridge later?”

  I look him in the eyes and he looks away as if he is afraid of what my answer might be.

  “Judd, thank you for today and please understand that I just need time,” I tell him as gently as possible.

  No other words are needed. He squeezes my hand and gives me a heartfelt smile that tells me he does understand.

  One foot after the other, my feet find the ground as I step out of the truck and then walk to the front door of my house. The further I get from his truck, the more my heart aches and pleads with me to run back to him. My phone chirping and the sound of his engine pulling away from my house rise into my ears, making me want to turn and yell “Wait, don’t go.” Instead, I look down and slide my text message open.

  Judd: Every second I’m without you only makes me fall more in love with you! I love you more than you will ever know! When you are ready, I will be here! I’m not going anywhere! I love you, Alyssa!

  Spinning around, I press my phone against my heart and for the hundredth time today my eyes fill with tears as I watch his headlights dim out of sight.

  It almost seems as if coping with not being with him is going to be harder than coping with what I walked in on a week ago. I let out a heavy sigh and tell myself, one day at a time, Alyssa. Just take it one day at a time.

  I SPEND THE NEXT FEW days helping Mom keep her mind busy. She has a ton of phone calls to make and Abby and I try our best to lighten the load.

  I called my school and arranged to finish up my classes via online. I may go back at the change of semester, but right now I am needed here. My work gave me eight days of family leave, so I go back to work on Thursday. I’m not looking forward to it, but at least it will keep me occupied. The hospital gave Abby two weeks off so she still has the rest of the week to help Mom out. That
gives me some comfort. Abby and I discussed working our schedules out so that one of us would always be home, but I really think Mom could use some time alone. I just wish I could ease her pain some.

  Judd still keeps up his nightly texts, but other than that I have not seen or heard from him. My heart aches for his comfort, but I am managing without him and learning to handle most things.

  I try not to look at pictures just yet, plus there are a few possessions of my dad’s laying around the house here and there that none of us dare move. He has an old button down shirt draped over the recliner in the living room and a pair of his socks that are rolled into balls at the foot of Mom and Dad’s bed. I think they will stay there for a while.

  A couple of mornings I have even woke up to Mom asleep on the couch. It’s got to be hard lying in their bed all by herself without the warmth of him beside her. I know my heart aches each night, wanting Judd beside me and to feel his arms around me.

  This morning I wake up and try my best to paint on a semi-upbeat expression so that I can head off for work. Since I am no longer staying at my apartment, I get to enjoy a thirty minute commute in rush hour traffic, alone with my thoughts. That should be fun.

  After work, I plan on swinging by the apartment and gathering all of my belongings.

  Abby and I made a run to the grocery store yesterday and collected a couple of boxes that I can use for my move. I don’t have that much stuff, mainly clothes; the rest I am not too concerned with.

  My pictures will definitely be finding a place in the box. I have a framed picture that I printed off of my phone of Judd and me out at the lake, a picture of my family and another of just Judd. I am hoping that Bethany has not hijacked any pictures of him since she is hell bent on stealing away any guy I am interested in. If I so much as see that the picture of him has been inched in her direction, she will have a fight on her hands.

  In the kitchen, I pour a cup of coffee and sit at the table so that I have a good view of the yard through the sliding glass door. All the leaves have fallen to the ground, layering the backyard in shades of red, orange and yellow. I smile, envisioning myself as a child jumping into piles of leaves that Dad would rake up.

  Mom wanders into the room, grabs herself a cup of coffee and joins me at the table. I smile at her, studying her face. She looks so drained and disconnected.

  “Mom, how are you doing?”

  I know it is a stupid question and normally a question like this would get met with total sarcasm in our family, but instead she just smiles at me. The smile is weak, but it is a welcoming sight and it makes me happy.

  “I’m good. Actually, I am doing better than I thought I would,” she says confidently and I take this time to reevaluate her appearance.

  Her hair is neatly pinned back in a barrette, she is wearing a light, lavender top that looks like it has been ironed and her face is pale, but all in all, maybe she is doing better than I thought.

  “I am going through some more pictures today,” she says before taking a sip of her coffee and gazing out at the yard.

  I’m sure there is a mountain of memories that she sees when she looks out there.

  “Mom, maybe you should give the pictures a rest for a while. That has to be hard looking at them each day.”

  She offers me a genuine smile before replying to my comment about how she has been coping with this. I probably should not have said that. It’s not my place to tell her how to deal with this, but I worry that it is holding her back from accepting he is gone.

  “Looking at the pictures isn’t hard. Not seeing him every day would be hard. I don’t think I could handle that. Looking at the pictures keeps my heart beating every single day. As the days go by and the years pass, I am sure I will look at the pictures less and less, but for now they keep me going.”

  My eyes fill with tears at her explanation, as hers do too.

  I think about how badly I have wanted Judd beside me, despite what he did behind my back and I understand perfectly what she means.

  “Maybe you should look at some pictures once in a while yourself.”

  This surprises me and I snap my face up to see my mother grabbing my phone off the table and shuffling through it. She lays the phone back down on the table and flips it around to face me.

  I look down and my heart slams into my chest as I see the picture taken in the back of Judd’s truck of him staring over at me as I happily look into the camera lens.

  “You want to tell me what happened between you two? I know I have been preoccupied, but I’m not blind. I know it’s none of my business, but I can see that you are miserable without him, honey,” she says calmly.

  “It isn’t something I really want to talk about,” I tell her honestly.

  “Sweetie . . .” She reaches across the table and places her hand over mine. “I hope you are not shutting him out because you are hurting. People do that and sometimes they end up losing that person in the end. I’m sure this is hurting him, too.”

  I push the tears back that are threatening to spill over and take a deep breath.

  “It’s not that, Mom,” I say and get up to put my mug in the sink.

  “You know he came to visit your dad in the hospital.”

  I stop at the counter and look at her.

  “I know. Abby told me that he came the first day that Dad was in the ICU. She said that she snuck him in and let him take a little of her shift.”

  “Well then I suppose he must have visited twice then. He visited the night your Dad passed away, too.” I gasp at this new information and stand completely still, ready to hear everything she has to say.

  Her eyes glaze over with tears and she looks back out to the yard. “You and Abby were asleep in the waiting room while I got him situated in his new room and Judd walked in. I wanted to give him some time with your dad, but I also didn’t want to leave his side, so I stayed in the room and arranged all your Dad’s balloons, cards and flowers while Judd talked to him.” She smiles out at the yard and goes on, “Your father told me a couple weeks ago that Judd had told him about how his mother died and how he had to watch her get sicker and sicker each day. I guess in a way seeing your Dad sick, really hit home for him.”

  I barely breathe as Mom goes on about Judd’s visit with Dad in the hospital. He never even told me about how his mother died. I didn’t know she was sick. I’ve never known anything about how she died really.

  I could not even see through my selfishness to see that Dad’s passing away probably took a toll on him too. He has already lived through losing a parent, if not two. Then, he manages to fill a bit of that void with the bond he built with my dad and I don’t even ask him to come to the visitation or the funeral.

  Mom’s voice and quiet sniffles break into my thoughts, “Your dad said that when he would talk to Judd, it was like looking at himself as a nineteen year old again. He really liked him. I know you may be dealing with an issue that you think is beyond my understanding, but I know for a fact that that boy loves you. He promised your Dad that he would take care of you and always love you as much as your father loves me.” Mom giggles as she tells me this and I can’t help but smile even though my heart is aching. “They both caught onto my eavesdropping as soon as I laughed at that comment, but it managed to get a small laugh out of your dad.”

  Mom looks up to the ceiling in deep thought and draws her brows together in a frown.

  “You know, I think that was the only time your dad laughed in that hospital. It was the last time he laughed before he passed at least.” She smiles through a few escaped tears.

  “I will forever be thankful to Judd for that.” Turning back towards me, she wipes the back of her hand across her cheek and gives me a sympathetic look. “Whatever the issue is with you and him, don’t shut him out. If you truly love him, do everything in your power to hold onto him.”

  I am speechless at her words. Quickly clearing my throat, I offer her a nod and give her a huge hug before I leave.

  My e
motionally drained, worn out and about-to-burst-into-a-million-pieces body drags out to my car, in no way prepared for the long day ahead, while I ponder over everything Mom said. I’m praying this day will fly by so I can get to my apartment, but the fact that I want it to go fast is a sure bet that it will more than likely crawl by.

  Luckily for me, the dentist’s office is jam packed with appointments, leaving me little time for a lunch, potty breaks or even time to glance at the clock.

  At three o-clock sharp, I hit the time clock and punch out.

  Running on pure adrenaline, I race out to my car, throw it into drive and speed to my apartment. I’m not sure what I am excited or anxious for, but my mood is lighter than it has been in nearly two weeks. It’s as though I am about to discover a treasure at the end of a rainbow. Maybe it is the thought of finally having my stuff back home or having my pictures to display on my dresser in my own room or maybe it’s knowing I don’t have to pay rent for the next few months, who knows, but I am going to just roll with it.

  I rush up to my apartment door, lugging a large box with me and unlock it quietly, hoping Bethany is not here. The apartment is quiet and whoa, it is a mess. Wow! Well, it’s not my problem anymore. I throw the box onto my bed and start tossing clothes out of my closet into it.

  After I have all my clothing emptied from the closet, I carry the now full box out and stuff it into my trunk only to return with another empty one. I hope I can fit my entire dresser and under the bed belongings into this last box, because I really would prefer to not have to come back.

  First thing I look at upon returning is my pictures on my dresser. They are still there and facing my bed. She’s lucky.

  I start emptying drawer after drawer into one box and then place all my shoes from under the bed onto the top. Just as I am laying the last of my things on the pile of my belongings, the bedroom door scrapes against the carpet, alerting me that I have company.