Life Without You

by Liesel Schmidt

  “I love you, baby girl,” Mama said and I could hear the tears in her voice.

  “I love you, too, Mama. And thank you for being proud of me,” I squeaked.

  “We’ve always been proud of you, Dellie. It’s not a pass or fail here—we’re proud of you for being you. But you need to know that we see the changes you’re making, and we realize how important even the little ones are.”

  I swiped the back of my hand across my cheeks, wishing I had a tissue. Or a whole box of tissues.

  “It’ll be nice to be home,” I said at last, not really knowing what else to say. “I miss your hugs.”

  “I miss yours, too. And when you get home, I’ll give you the biggest one ever.” Mama laughed. “We have a whole month to make up for!”

  There was much more than a month to make up for. More than missed hugs. There was missed life. But making up for it wasn’t a matter of paying penance or of begging for forgiveness. It was about changing, about taking back my life by seizing the moments that came my way. Moving forward, not looking back. I’d made many, many mistakes; but I wasn’t alone in that. Life was full of mistakes.

  Learning from them, turning them into good, was the most important thing. I wanted to live my life, not run from it. This was the only life I was going to get, and I wanted to make it the very best life it could be.

  “We do,” I said quietly, wondering if she had any inkling of all the thoughts and emotions swirling through me as I spoke those simple words. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds around me—the bark of the neighbor’s dog, the soft swish of the tree leaves as the breeze rifled them. I would miss this place, but I was glad to be going home. It was going to be different, though, I vowed silently. I wanted more now than just that little world that had become so small, so limiting. I wanted more, bigger. Better. Brighter.

  I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again, noticing that the sun had finally slipped away, the color-washed sky of sunset now replaced by the darkness of nightfall.

  Time to go in, I thought.

  I blinked, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something I hadn’t seen in all the days I had been here so far—I finally saw the very first flash of a lightning bug.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The morning of my departure came far faster than I could have imagined, and my last two days flew by in the blink of an eye. There were still things that I would have liked to have done, still people I would have loved to see, but I would be back.

  Sooner, rather than later. I would be back, and the relationships I had formed and the ones I had rebuilt would continue.

  Reconnect With Family. I wasn’t taking that item on my bucket list lightly.

  As I packed up my suitcases, I did I a mental inventory of the past month here, marveling at everything that had happened, all the things I had learned about myself and about the people in my life. All the ways that I was being given a chance to see the possibilities for my own life and the ways that I could take charge of it, if only I really took the steps.

  Unfortunately, Olivia’s heavy schedule didn’t allow her to come back to Hampton, nor did it afford her another pocket of free time to spend a few hours in an afternoon with me, even if I had been able to get up to Richmond to see her. But our visit had been so good, so needed, that both of us had been making a renewed effort of maintaining close contact. We’d been talking on the phone and texting regularly, rather than sending out random Likes and comments on Facebook. This was far, far more intentional, now that both of us had realized just how much we had come to miss being in one another’s lives.

  I could tell, though, more and more from each conversation, that the grueling schedule was wearing on her, that being away from her son so much was emotionally draining. And even though she hadn’t come right out and spoken the exact words, certain things that Olivia said made me fairly certain that if she’d had her heart’s desire, she would have loved to have been working on cakes, creating a business of her own and spending more time with Ethan, rather than cramming every waking hour with school and work. The fact that she was doing all of this, pushing through even the roughest parts, was one more testament to her strength, one more credit to her character. One more way that showed just how dedicated she was to being able to give her son stability. Maybe one day she would have the chance to make her dreams a reality; but for now, she was sacrificing them for a greater good.

  Uncle Luke’s visits to the house had been frequent enough, and he’d even taken me to lunch once during my stay. It had been nice to have him all to myself, to talk to him about things that were going on in our lives and to get to know him better in a way that I hadn’t before, when I was a child rather than an adult. Nice to know that he was one more person so firmly in my corner.

  I was saddened by the fact that I hadn’t gotten to see my other uncles, but I was also realistic. The stars didn’t always align, and real life didn’t always accommodate our wishes. Even so, I’d made a point to call them both while I’d been in Hampton—not only to let them know I’d come up for a visit, but more importantly, I thought, to let them know that I missed them and that I loved them. Being here had made me realize even more just how crucial it was to take every opportunity to show the people you loved just how much you loved them. There were no guarantees on time, no matter how old or young you were, and it was better to live every day without the regrets of words that hadn’t been said.

  There were new clothes to pack into my suitcases, reminders of the ways that I wanted to change. Reminders of the ways that I deserved to change and was worth the fight. I had many, many battles ahead; but I wanted, more than anything, to win them. To feel happy and healthy and beautiful again.

  To live and taste, really taste, a life of freedom.

  My trip to Wilkes after the cemetery visit with Grandpa had certainly not come without its share of anxiousness. I’d ordered my sandwich with a massive knot of fear in my gut, almost to the point of nausea. And, much as I wanted to retreat and back down from the challenge, I also wanted to be able to bite into that sandwich with abandon, with the knowledge that this was a fist pump of victory, one more step closer to normalcy. The unending stream of emotional and psychological warfare that came afterwards was nothing short of torture, but I did it anyway. I fought away the thoughts. I fought away the desire to overcompensate.

  And the world around me carried on.

  I carried on.

  And it made me feel strong.

  One more thing to cross off my bucket list, to keep crossing off my bucket list until the fear was gone.

  The tears in my eyes as I packed and reflected blurred my vision a bit, obscuring my ability to really see what I was doing, so I had to stop and dab them away. I grabbed a tissue from the box on the dresser, thinking of Annabelle and her handkerchiefs. How would she decide to go about making some sort of peace agreement with Grandpa? I was curious to see, but I had little doubt that, once she set her mind to doing it and figured out her game plan, she would be able to make it happen. She was an inspiring woman, and I was glad to be able to count her among my friends.

  Grandpa and I hadn’t broached the subject again, after we’d had that confrontation over Annabelle. I had said my piece, and that was all that I could do. The rest of it would have to be left between him and Annabelle.

  Vivi and Savannah’s futures were something else I wondered at as I zipped up the last of my bags. Would Savannah feel confident enough in her own talents to take Annabelle’s offer of a loan? Would Vivi come to really, fully understand that she was the driving force of Azalea’s, that she was its lifeblood and that her passion was what was keeping it alive and so successful; or would she forever feel in her mother’s shadow, unworthy of the legacy she had been left to carry?

  Only time would tell, but I had a feeling that there was magic in the works somewhere…and I couldn’t wait to know how it all played out.

  I had gotten to say my good-byes to all of them the day before; we’d m
et at Azalea’s for a late lunch, and we’d talked and laughed and cried until the dinner crowd had crushed us out. It was four hours of good-bying, of promising to keep in touch and making plans for future visits. None of the promises seemed empty, though, unlike those so often made during the rosy glow of vacations when everything seems so ideal, only to be eclipsed by the realities of a busy life once the vacation is over. All four of us were equally determined to keep our promises, and four determined women can be a powerful force.

  “Are you ready, Dellie?” Grandpa called out, shaking me from my reverie, reminding me how close I was to departure.

  I tugged my suitcase off the bed and gathered my purse and carry-on, taking one last glance around the room to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. The bed had been stripped and remade with fresh sheets, the closet and the dresser emptied of my clothes and shoes. It looked the same as when I’d come, the same as it had for more years than I could remember. It was a comforting sight, a reminder of happy nights spent here in my childhood. Of whispered secrets in the dark with Olivia and Charlie, of giggles and mischief that lasted far past bedtime.

  “Coming!” I called back, hefting my bags out the door with a peek toward the bathroom, once again taking a mental inventory of everything. It may have been stripped bare of things, but it would never be stripped of memories, never be rid of the fine dust of countless morning applications of powder, of the lingering mists of hundreds of thousands of baths given to children who grew up to have children of their own, all bathed in the same tub, sudsed and scrubbed back to freshness. The tiny bathroom was a box of treasured memories; and no matter how many years went by, those memories would never truly be gone.

  I trudged down the hall and into the kitchen, where Grandpa stood waiting, keys in hand and ready to roll, looking like a man on a mission. I smiled at the sight of him, the familiar face of the man whose presence figured so greatly in my history, whose blood and sweat and love had built a home and family with the woman he loved. He was a treasure, even though he might never understand how special he was; and I was glad to have been given the chance to see a clearer picture of him, to know him better and discover more of the many things that made him such a gift.

  The kitchen felt the hardest room of all to look at, this space so crammed with memories, every inch so layered in sugar and flour, so infused with the smells of meals cooked and shared and savored, so alive with conversations and secrets; its floors so well worn under the feet of those who had walked them every day, of those who had lived here and loved here and those who had come through this space for only a taste of the love that lived here.

  This was the room I would miss most of all.

  I sniffed, feeling my nose burn as I thought about all of it, and tried to shift my focus back to Grandpa and getting out the door. We had things to do and rubber to burn. I could think about this once I was strapped into place on the plane, with my tray table locked and my seat in its upright position as I awaited takeoff.

  “Ready?” Grandpa asked.

  “Ready,” I said, nodding in an attempt to make myself feel it.

  “Let’s go, then.” Grandpa took my suitcase from me, giving me a smile as he did. “This thing is heavier than you are!” he exclaimed. “You must have a dead body in there!” He laughed.

  “Nah. Although, I was thinking about the possibilities of packing up one of the carousel horses. I think it would really look nice in my apartment—definitely a conversation starter,” I quipped, trying my best to sound a little more perky than I actually was.

  Even though I was anxious to go home, I was having a rough time leaving. I wanted to be able to take this place—this experience here—home in my pocket, to keep my family and friends safe and close, to never lose them again the way I had before.

  What would I do without them, now that I had gotten so used to their faces?

  Go back to the people you love at home, Dellie—people you love and who love you back. Go back to reclaim your life and make it whole again. Make it better. Never lose sight of the fact that you are special, someone to treasure and celebrate. Someone who deserves the very best in life.

  We hustled out the door, first me and then Grandpa, through the heavy old oak door and then the screen door, impatient on its hinges to bang shut behind us. I stepped out onto the wooden plants of the deck, looking out at the neighboring street and the yards around us, a familiar sight after so many years, and even more so now after my month here. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, committing the sights and sounds and smells to memory as Grandpa locked up behind me.

  “What’s this?” His voice startled me, and I opened my eyes to see what he was talking about. “It’s got your name on it, Dellie, so I’m guessing it’s for you,” Grandpa said, picking up a small gift bag from the wooden picnic table near the door. It was tiny, with white tissue paper spilling out the top and a little round gift tag spelling out my name in carefully lettered cursive.

  He handed the bag to me. “Go on and open it; let’s see what’s inside,” he directed with a nod.

  I took the little parcel in my hand and carefully fingered my way through all the tissue paper, then pulled out a white satin bag with a little crystal jewel sewn onto the flap of its envelope-like shape. A smile formed on my lips as I began to realize what I was looking at, feeling not even a shred of doubt at what I would find inside. I unsnapped the flap and tipped the bag to spill its contents into my hand, then gasped in delight as a silver charm bracelet tumbled out.

  A single charm dangled from the silver links—a slice of cake with tiny pink crystals as the frosting. It was, I knew, a special message, a reminder of this time here and the lessons I had learned. My eyes and my throat burned with the sting of tears, and I almost couldn’t see the card that still waited to be opened, tucked just inside the gift bag.

  It was creamy, thick stock. Simple yet elegant. I had no doubt of the writer’s identity, so familiar was that hand by now.

  Wear this bracelet and let it be a reminder to you—of who you are, of where you come from, of the sweetness that life can hold. Your grammie’s cakes brought us together in such a special way and gave us all a gift: a taste of love and friendship and generosity and forgiveness. She was an inspiration to us all, and a message of hope. Remember that you, Dellie, are special as well. Celebrate your life and your triumphs—allow yourself to savor those moments, to taste them all, to celebrate the victories with cake and lick the bowl clean of batter.

  All our love,

  Annabelle, Vivi, and Savannah

  Despite the fact that the four of us appeared, on the surface, to have nothing in common, we had bonded in the shared memories of my grandmother and her cakes, of the ways that she had touched all of us; in the ways that so many hard lessons in our lives had tested us all.

  There were so many layers to each of these women, layers that had taken time to see; and I felt honored that they had given me the chance to become a part of their lives.

  They could have easily shut me out, dismissing me without a second thought. Yet they had welcomed me as one of their own, never judging me for my many flaws. Annabelle, seeming at first such as strange old woman with too much time and money on her hands, had revealed herself to be a woman of infinite depths and great influence. Vivi, who had seemed so flippant and fearless, had shown her softer, much more vulnerable side. And Savannah, the carefree, bubbly blonde, had divulged her greatest dreams and her fears of failing.

  Each of them—each of us—had come into one another’s lives so unexpectedly, encouraging one another, supporting one another, reminding one another of our strengths and our worth. Never again would I be the same, simply because these women had come into my life.

  “Who is that from, Dellie?” Grandpa asked, looking at the bracelet in my hand with surprise.

  I felt a small smile creep across my face as my eyes pooled with tears. “They’re from three very beautiful, precious women, Grandpa,” I said quietly. “Women I’ll
treasure always.”

  He asked no further questions, and I offered no further answers. I knew, and that was what mattered. I knew who it was from and what it represented. I knew the blessing that was being spoken over me, and I would hear whispers of that blessing with each wearing.

  “We’d better get a move on, or we’re going to miss getting you to the airport on time,” Grandpa urged, moving toward the steps that led from the deck to the sidewalk and down to the garage.

  I nodded silently, gathering my things and tucking the delicate satin bag and the card back into the little gift bag. I kept the bracelet in my hand, closing my fingers tightly around it as I thought about the women who had given it to me.

  They had reminded me to find my own worth and let it shine. To embrace life and see that it was full of so many things—sorrows and struggles, yes. But also countless joys to celebrate, simple things to savor every day.

  “Let’s go,” I said at last, following Grandpa down the steps and along the path, feeling with each step of my own a greater sense of anticipation and excitement at returning home. There was a full life waiting for me there, a life overflowing with possibilities that my mind hadn’t even begun to imagine. There were people I loved there, people who were part of my life who wanted nothing but the best for me, people who had stood by me even in the worst of times. People who would never leave me, even when I tried to push them away because of my own fears.

  We loaded up the truck with my bags, and as we pulled out of the driveway, I took one last long look at the house, so familiar a sight, the scene of so many of my childhood memories. This house built of wood and nails, but held together with the glue of love and life. So many moments shared here, so very many memories created. But they were far from being over; and I was determined that I would be back soon to make some more of my own here, in this place where I had so unexpectedly reconnected with myself and with those around me. I would be back, even stronger than I was now.