A Widow Redefined (25 page)

Tyler looked up at me. “Did you make up with your friend?”

“Yes, I did,” I said. “That was your suggestion if I’m not mistaken.”

He smiled at me. Tyler might be the youngest in the house, but sometimes he was the wisest. He had a knack for simplifying everything.

“Good,” he said, then grabbed hold of my hand.

There were leftovers and they’d picked up some DVDs from the library. It seemed they’d planned a nice, relaxing evening at home. I was exhausted and thankful.

•••••

The next morning I woke up feeling great. I had enjoyed a deep, restorative sleep. It was chilly, though, so I put a sweater on over my pajamas and headed to the kitchen. I started breakfast while Mom set the table and Tyler petted Moose. Then I heard my cell phone ring.

I lay the spatula down and rushed to catch it before it went into voicemail. “Hello,” I answered.

“Hello,” a familiar man’s voice replied. “This is Henry,” he said. “I’m afraid I have some terrible news. Ms. Bergman passed away last night.”

“I see,” I replied, choking up. “Thank you for contacting me.”

“I thought you should be among the first to know,” Henry said. “I will be in touch with the funeral arrangements.”

The call ended. And just like that, Sabrina was gone.

I set the phone down and turned to face my family. Both of them stared at me in anticipation.

“She’s gone,” I said, then sat down in the kitchen chair and began sobbing. Moose came up and pushed his head under my arm, nuzzling closer to me.

Mom approached and gave me a hug. “I’m so sorry honey,” she said.

I glanced up at Tyler through glassy eyes. “Your friend is dead?” he asked.

I shook my head yes and cried harder. Tyler’s face grew strained, then he ran into his room and slammed the door. Moose stayed by my side.

“Please Mom. Go check on Tyler.”

She went after him. And even though my heart was breaking, it now ached on a deeper dimension, knowing my son was hurting, too.

If only I hadn’t introduced them, I thought, wishing I could re-write history. If only they hadn’t met. Then he wouldn’t be experiencing this pain.

Sorrow consumed me, but at the same time I realized there was no way I could protect Tyler from things like this, no more than my mom could protect me.

I reached for a tissue and blew my nose. Moose continued to try and comfort me by burrowing as close as he could to my body. I took solace in his love. I leaned down and hugged him and kissed the top of his head. Then Moose looked up at me, his chocolate brown eyes truly knowing. He began pawing at me and whining. He understood.

Within a short time Tyler and my mom came back in the kitchen. My son’s face was pink and his eyes were bloodshot. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. I nodded and replied by giving him a bone-crushing hug.

Mom kept quiet and scurried around the kitchen. She began warming up our cold breakfast and filling our glasses with juice. Then we ate in silence. Afterward, she offered to clean up, so Tyler and I stumbled into the family room and found a comfortable spot on the sofa. I reached for a quilt and wrapped myself in it. Then we both stared into space before falling asleep.

W
hen the alarm went off Monday morning, I cursed its existence. I didn’t want to get out of bed, but I forced myself to do it anyway. Once at work, I headed to Dave’s office.

“Can I come in?”

He looked up. “Sure.”

Dave could tell something was wrong. I didn’t want to share the whole story, and decided it was better to keep things brief. “My friend passed away this weekend. The funeral will be one day this week. I’m still waiting to hear.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Just let me know which day and I’ll apply one of your personal days.”

“Thanks,” I said, then returned to my desk.

I heard Fatima and Barb whispering behind me. I thought I’d spoken quietly, but they heard everything. Luckily, they left me alone so I could get my work done.

Before lunch Fatima came up to me. “I overheard your conversation with Dave,” she admitted. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

I didn’t want to talk about it. Sharing with my mom was one thing, but my colleagues and I weren’t on the same level. Still, I appreciated their condolences.

Later in the day Barb reached out and rubbed my shoulder. “You gonna be okay?” she asked.

I sighed, letting go just a little. “Yeah. It’s just hard… losing people.”

“I know,” she replied, with her sweet, gnome-like smile.

The office remained quiet for the rest of the day. Not even the radio was turned on.

At five I punched out and got into my car to head home. I noticed a voicemail, so I checked it. It was Henry. He said Sabrina’s funeral would be tomorrow. So soon? I thought. Then I remembered something I’d read once about Jewish custom, where one had to be buried right away.

It was all happening so fast. I couldn’t accept it.

When I came home I smelled pizza. My mom and Tyler had it delivered, probably in an effort to cheer me up. I smiled and thanked them, then sat down to dinner. We ate in silence again. No one really knew what to say. Afterward, I put on a heavy sweater to walk Moose.

“I can take him,” Mom offered.

“Thanks,” I replied. “But I want to go.”

She gave me a look of understanding and stepped back. Then I grabbed Moose’s leash and attached it to his collar and we walked out the front door.

The air was cool but crisp. I saw a neighbor I didn’t recognize wave at me, and I waved back. Then I looked down at Moose. We wouldn’t run today. Instead we walked down our block at a steady pace. He was right there beside me, in the middle of it all, helping me make it through.

I felt so lucky we found him when we did.

Monday night I called Dave and left a voicemail about the funeral. I tried to sleep that night, but couldn’t. I tossed and turned and eventually went to the family room to surf the web. I Googled Sabrina Bergman. A few links popped up. The ones I’d seen before. Then I noticed a link to the Chicago Tribune. It read, “Fashion World Loses Another Friend.”

I continued reading.

On Sunday, November 2
^nd
, 2012 Ms. Sabrina Bergman, head of the Bergman Collection, passed away. She was 32 years old. Sabrina was the daughter of Don and Monique Bergman, founders of the line, both of whom were sadly lost in an airplane crash in Indonesia.

Sabrina was known for her intuitive direction and keen marketing savvy, often taking the collection into bold, new areas. Most recently, Ms. Bergman was in negotiations with Target, to create a limited-edition line of clothing for them, following in the footsteps of other successful designers.

I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t told me anything about that. I kept reading.

Ms. Bergman suffered critical injuries from an automobile accident and died later at Lake Forest Hospital. She will be missed.

I wiped the tears away after I finished reading. Even though I didn’t know the details, I visualized the accident and then immediately blocked it from my mind. I couldn’t think of her that way.

Tuesday morning as I lay in bed, a strong feeling came over me. I didn’t want to go to the funeral. The service was to start at noon. It probably wouldn’t last more than a couple hours but I didn’t want to go. I rolled over and turned on the clock radio. The announcer gave the weather forecast. Cold, rainy, gray. Again.

I hid my head under the pillow. I stayed that way, under the blankets, for as long as I could, until it was time to shower and dress for the funeral. I stood in front of my closet, dumbfounded. I considered wearing something fashionable. Then I decided against it. I was just too depressed. I changed into jeans, gym shoes and a sweater. I applied minimal make up and didn’t style my hair, just blew it dry.

I stepped outside and climbed into the car. Then I checked the printed driving directions. It was a clear, direct route. I turned on the radio as I drove, then turned it back off. I couldn’t handle any sound.

I made a wrong turn along the way, and found myself heading away from my destination. Instead, I was heading almost directly toward the Chicago Botanic Garden. I kept driving.

When I pulled into the lot, the attendant asked for twenty dollars. In my daze I’d forgotten it cost money to get in. Luckily I had some cash on hand. I handed it to the man who took it and smiled.

The garden was not a popular choice on a dreary weekday in November, and that was fine by me. I welcomed the solitude. I grabbed my umbrella, put on my coat and locked the car.

Once I began walking I realized Sabrina was right. Everything looked different from the last time I was here. It even
felt
different. I followed the same path she’d taken me on before, noticing the plants and their different colors, some of them heavy with raindrops.

I saw a puddle and jumped into it, creating a splash. Self-conscious, I did a quick scan for other people, hoping I didn’t upset anyone. But there was no one around. My gym shoes were soggy and muddy, and I didn’t care. I just continued on the path.

When I turned the corner, I came upon the area where Sabrina had gotten married. It didn’t look very pretty today, and that made me sad. I wished my friend could’ve lived, that she would’ve fallen in love again, and had children. I wondered if her ex-husband would be at the funeral. I wondered if he’d be sorry.

I meandered over to the English Garden. I visualized Sabrina and her sister as children, running and playing hide and seek together, and I managed to crack a tiny smile.

The wind picked up, as it is so famous for doing in Chicago, suggesting I finish sooner than I would’ve liked. I looked to the sky and saw the makings of a storm. By the looks of it, a big one. Then I hurried over to the Japanese Garden, Sabrina’s favorite place.

I had the area all to myself. As I crossed the main bridge, I stopped to notice the dramatic change that had taken place since I was here last. No plants had been moved, and the landscape remained the same, but something was very different. I blinked, then opened my eyes wider. I took a deep breath of cold, moist air and exhaled slowly. Then I realized what it was. The cool formality of the place had vanished. It felt alive and dynamic now. And as I finished crossing the bridge and entered the garden, fog hung low, creating a mystical feel.

I knew this was where I was supposed to be.

The wind blew a little harder, so I reached into my bag for a scarf. I wrapped it around my neck. Even so, I wasn’t going to let nature rush me today. I wanted to take my time here, in this special place.

I found my way to the Island of Everlasting Happiness. It was difficult to see in the mist. And it seemed further away than usual, at least to a mere mortal like me. I could still make out its graceful curves and tiny green hills, concealing secrets on the other side. The Japanese called this paradise Horaijima. Could Sabrina live there now?

My intuition told me she could. She could travel anywhere she liked whenever she pleased now.

She could even be… with Justin.

The idea didn’t bother me. He could use a friend.

The wind picked up again, as if trying to tell me, “Go home. You’re all done here.” So I moved on, taking its suggestion this time. On my way out of the garden, I saw something I hadn’t noticed last time, a giant weeping willow slightly tilting toward the water. I walked over to it. A sign read: Weeping Willow Point. A large boulder sat next to the side of the tree, so I decided to rest there for just a moment.

I climbed up onto the damp rock and took a seat. It began to drizzle, so I took out my umbrella and held it over my head. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain tap the fabric, and felt it splash all around me.

This was my funeral with Sabrina.

Now, more than ever, it would be appropriate to cry… but I couldn’t. No tears would fall. Then a strong gust blew, nudging me from the spot. I got up and took one last look at the island.

“Take care,” I said, then hurried away.

I made it back to the main building and used the restroom. The warm dryer on my hands felt so good. Before leaving, I noticed a gift shop. I was too soggy to go in, so I just scanned the contents from outside. That’s when I saw the small bonsai tree. Instinctively, I walked in, forgetting about my shoes and their messy condition. I took the plant to the register and the sales associate rung me up.

On my way out, I wondered if I should take the tree to Sabrina’s grave.

I got in my car, set my purchase on the passenger seat and made a monumental decision. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t go to Sabrina’s grave, and I wouldn’t go to Justin’s grave anymore. That was part of the past.

I drove home and found the house still empty except for Moose. After a long, hot bath, I rearranged the top of my dresser to find space for my new bonsai tree. It looked perfect right in the center, like it was always meant to be there.

I collapsed into bed and hoped Sabrina wouldn’t be upset I’d missed her funeral. As I lay there with eyes closed, I reviewed my memories of the day and decided it felt right.

I must’ve fallen asleep because a knock on the door woke me up. “Hey Mom. Are you okay?”

I rubbed my eyes. “Yeah. I guess I’m alright. How about you?”

I wondered how Tyler felt about all this. Mom had talked to him when it happened, but he hadn’t spoken to me about it. I worried about him.

“I’m better now,” he said. “Sad still. It took me by surprise.”

“Me too,” I said, then he came over and gave me a hug.

“Dad’s the only person I know that has died. And I just met her.”

“I know,” I said. “Part of me is sorry I had you two meet. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Tyler gave me an odd look. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop what happened. Why would you want to go back and change anything?”

He was right.

“Where’d you get the tree?” he asked, looking over at the dresser.

I smiled. “I bought it. Something to remind me of my friend.”

Tyler responded by giving me another hug. Then he got up and left the room. Usually I’d have suggested we talk or play a game or watch a movie. Today I just let him leave, so I could be alone and rest.