Bare Hearts (2 page)

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I tell him, petting his hand. He looks so much older now and so helpless.

“Yes I do. I wasn’t the best father,” he whispers, the pain showing in his eyes.

“You did the best you could. There is nothing to be sorry about.”

“Tell her sorry for me,” he says barely edging the words out.

“Who am I supposed to say sorry to?” I question. But his eyes close and his breathing becomes shallow. Finally, a nurse comes in telling me to say my goodbyes.

How can I say goodbye? And who am I supposed to say sorry to? He can’t leave me now.
I hold his hand as he takes his last breath and the machine beeps continuously until the nurse shuts it off.

“I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye,” she says turning toward the door, shutting it behind her.

I lean down to kiss him on his cheek. The tears continue to flow as I say my last goodbye to him. I can’t believe he was taken from me so early in life.
How am I supposed to cope with this grief?
A million memories flood my mind at once and I can’t slow them down to process. When I was little and my mom was still alive my dad used to take me to the local baseball games. I remember eating hotdogs and popcorn and drinking lots of soda. We would do all kinds of things like that when I was young. I will cherish those memories forever. I wish we could have spent more time together after mom died. We sort of went our own way when she passed and neither he nor I knew how to communicate to each other. We just didn’t know how to deal with her death. She was diagnosed with a severe case of breast cancer. It had progressed too far to save her.

I have no other family around to help with anything. I mean my dad held a decent job and had a lot of poker friends and coworkers. But I don’t have any real family. Everyone is out of state or distant relatives who didn’t want to deal with my dad’s drinking or his self-medicating.

The moment I turned eighteen I joined the Army. It was something I needed; stability, structure, and a long career if I wanted it. But now that my four years are up, I can either re-enlist or choose a different route. There is no one keeping me here since I no longer have family here. I only came home two weeks ago, hoping to mend the relationship I had with my dad.

When I return to the house, it feels so empty and I feel so alone. Glancing at his favorite chair, it pains me. If you were looking for him he could always be found there while he watched T.V, unless he was working or with his poker buddies. Looking around the now empty house, I recall several happy memories, as well as shouting matches, I had with him. While he did say sorry to me, it comforts me to know he felt bad for the way things were between us. On the mantle I notice a picture from when I was younger, of me and my dad on our way to our first pro baseball game. A hard lump forms in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

The day is still early, so I go ahead and call the funeral home to make my dad’s arrangements. The process of planning a funeral makes it so hard when you are the one that lost the parent. I’m not prepared to bury him in the ground. It was never a discussion if something would happen.

Once I start talking to the funeral director, he informs me that my dad already had a plot paid for next to my mom. That makes sense, and I find a little comfort knowing they are reuniting and can be together again.

The funeral is set for Monday and I already informed most of his coworkers and poker buddies. Everyone I talked to is saddened by the sudden death of my father. I only wish I was more persistent in trying to get him some kind of help, to ease the grief of my mom’s death. Maybe he would still be alive if I hadn’t just ignored him and escaped to my own little world of my friends and escaping it altogether. Maybe I should have tried to communicate with him. Those are the things that I think about. If only. But I know it’s not good to think like that. I could play all kinds of what if scenarios. I am thankful I was there to hold his hand in his last moments, and I actually got to say goodbye.

A lump forms in my throat as I try to keep the tears at bay. I still can’t believe my dad is gone, for good.

I am completely exhausted from today.

Chapter Three

As I anticipated, the conversation doesn't go so well with my Aunt. She has insisted she come here to Carlisle Springs from Virginia to help organize the funeral and everything, she will arrive tomorrow. I don't bother arguing with her since my energy is spent as it is. Honestly, it will be nice to have her here to help since she’s been through this before with her husband. I don’t think I could do this by myself. I slip in and out of sleep throughout the day and stay on the couch, because I can't bear to go upstairs where her things are. My chest hurts at the very thought of my mom being gone, for good, not coming back. My heart is officially broken in half. I feel like I am standing on the ledge, ready to free fall.

The next morning I wake to the sound of my doorbell ringing. In a daze, I rub the sleep from my eyes and walk to the door and look through the glass to find my aunt standing there. Swinging the door open, she rushes in to embrace me. Her arms feel like home wrapped around my body, warmth, and comfort. She closes the door behind her as we both move to the couch. Her eyes are red from crying as well.

"How you holding up dear?" She asks, patting my leg once we sit. I can't answer her, as the tears start flooding again. "I just can't believe that this is happening, to her," Aunt Becca chokes out through her sobs. "I will stay as long as you need me to. It's not like I have anything back home in Virginia anyway," she says wiping her tears.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," is all I can manage to say.

I contemplate on handling the flower arrangements. I recently opened up my own floral shop about six months ago and named it Flower Shop. I know, so not original. The locals welcomed me with open arms, and when they would come by they’d order anything from simple to extravagant arrangements depending on the occasion. Business is steady so I have a few people helping me. Leah is still in high school, so she helps in the evenings and weekends. Ben is my delivery man, and I have the nicest elderly lady woman, Lucy, who helps out during the day. We all get along great, and they are handling the shop while I mourn the loss of my mother. I am planning on doing the flower arrangement for the funeral; something that my mom would have loved.

"Aunt Becca, while you handle the funeral arrangements, I will make a flower arrangement that my mom would like. I will probably go in later when the others are gone."

"That is a lovely idea," she replies.

Once it reaches that time of day when I know the other employees won’t be there, I make my way over to my flower shop. I just don’t want to run into anyone I know, because my eyes are red and swollen and I look a fright, and I just don’t want to see the pity in their eyes. Luckily it is not that far from my house; just a quick drive. And when my car isn’t feeling reliable it doesn’t take long to walk there, either. Arriving after it’s closed, I head to the back and gather the flowers I need and place them on the work table.

While I make the arrangement, I wonder if there were any other fatalities in the accident. I know one guy who was in it and survived. His wife, Maura called and expressed her condolences for my loss. From what I know, he was a marine and he was lucky to be alive. I’m not sure why or how my mom got involved, but in the end she didn’t make it. Why was my mom not spared? A lump forms in my throat as the thought of losing her overwhelms me. How will I move on knowing she is not here with me, knowing she won’t be able to comfort me or share my joys? She won’t see me get married, nor have children of my own. I swipe a tear from my cheek at the thought.

Once the arrangement is done, I leave a note for Lucy about the work load and some upcoming events that she may need to do without me for a few days, just until I get the funeral taken care of. I lock the shop up and make my way back home.

Heading into the kitchen, I find Aunt Becca in there putting some things in the refrigerator. “Oh, you’re back,” she says, looking at me with worrisome eyes. “The neighbors have been dropping off food and flowers ever since you left.”

“News travel fast in this small town,” I tell her. I make my way around the kitchen island and glance over the food trays. My fingers linger over the flowers that were brought. The lavender smell of the flowers takes over the kitchen.

“A lady named Maura stopped by. I guess she has a catering business and brought most of the food here,” she tells me.

“Her husband was in the accident too. He survived,” I say numbly.

My aunt comes around the counter with outstretched arms. Wrapping her arms around me she says, “I am so sorry. Your mom was way too young, and I know she was your best friend. She always bragged about you. She was always telling me about your progress with your shop and how it was doing. She was really proud of you when you graduated college and opened up your flower shop.”

“She was?” I ask, looking up.

“Oh yes. You should have heard her talk about you,” she replies with a weak smile and a kiss on top of my head.

Breaking from her embrace, I decide to get something in my stomach. I grab a paper plate and go straight to the fresh veggies and dip tray. I add some fruit and a little of this and that and sit on the stool in front of the island to eat. My stomach is rumbling and tumbling and I realize I haven’t had anything in my stomach for quite some time. My aunt organizes the food to put the rest into the fridge.

“The funeral arrangements are taken care of. It is being held at the church down the road and then we will go to the cemetery just on the edge of town afterward for the burial. I scheduled it for Monday; two days from now,” my Aunt informs me.

It will probably be the longest two days of my life.
I am not prepared to see her in the casket or even bury her. I know she will always be with me in spirit, and I find a little comfort in that. I’m glad my Aunt came to help with all this; otherwise I would probably be more of a mess than I already am.

*****

Monday comes fairly quickly. I’ve barely slept since my mom died. It’s weird not having her here all the time. I haven’t come to terms with her death, and I am not looking forward to today. In my room I sift through my closest to find anything black. Finally, I find a knee length black dress that was in the back. I’m not a dress wearing kind of person. Looking through my shoes, I manage to find a black pair of low heels. The dress is the only dress I own; it has a slit to the upper thigh and it has some lacing on the top around the V neck. Looking in the mirror, I twist my hair up into a high bun, put on rose earrings and add a touch of makeup to mask my blotchy and red skin. As I’m glancing out the window, the sun is shining and everything looks bright and cheery. Overcast and rain would be more fitting for this occasion, I think as I take a deep breath; or at least, try to. The time on the clock is still early so I make my way downstairs to see if anything needs to be done.

“Good morning, Lily,” my aunt greets me.

“Morning, need any help with anything?” I offer.

“No. Looks like you are already ready, though.”

“Yes, I really just want to get this day over with but I’m glad I get to see her again.”
Even if it is the last time.

“Least we get to say goodbye,” she says, trying to comfort me.

In the kitchen, I grab a mug for coffee and a doughnut for fuel. As I am sitting on the kitchen stool, I think about the funeral I have to attend. It’s making my heart hurt.
Will this pain ever go away?

“We should probably make our way over to the funeral hall, Hon,” she informs me.

Reluctantly, I follow her out the door. Going to the funeral home means I will have to greet, hug, and shake hands with family, friends, neighbors, and coworkers. Not something I am looking forward to.

At the funeral home, I take the flower arrangement and place it on a stand near the casket. I take a moment and look at my mom in the casket, where she shouldn’t be. She looks so peaceful and beautiful in the flowing dress that my aunt and I picked out.

There is already a line forming, so everyone gets their turn to stop at the casket to pay their respects. My aunt and I are standing next to it; everyone is mourning the loss of my mom. They look at me with pity and the sorrow is expressed by their facial expressions. It’s not just my aunt and I suffering the loss; everyone in this room is as well. But the loss runs a little deeper in me since I am her daughter.

Finally, everyone makes their way through and takes a seat while the service gets underway. For me, it is just too overwhelming to speak in front of the crowd. For now I will just keep the memories to myself. After a little while it is just too much to hear others talking about my mom, so I step outside for some air. The afternoon air slams me with heat and humidity, making my escape for air more difficult. But I needed to get out of there.

After I have a few minutes alone, we all head to the gravesite for the burial. I decided to drive myself. I need more time alone, since this would be my final goodbye. We all make our way to the site, standing around for the casket to be lowered and waiting for the final service by the preacher. I do my best to keep it together but it is getting harder by the minute. I struggle to keep my composure.

As the casket lowers into the ground I start to sob uncontrollably. Everyone throws a flower of their choice on top. As the dirt starts to pile into the grave everyone makes their way out of the cemetery. My aunt comes over to comfort me but it is hard to accept the hard truth that my mom is dead.

Taking a step back so the workers can finish their job, my aunt stands beside me. “You can go ahead and go. I want to stay a little longer so I can put the flower along the stone,” I say through the tears.