Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) (23 page)

You are such a mixture of all of us. The best parts of all of us were molded together to form a perfect creation; Emma Marie Nichols, our bundle of joy. The light in our darkness. It was hard work getting you here, and you’ve proven time and time again you were worth every struggle, every tear, every hope, and you’ve made all of our dreams come true.

That leads me to my first lesson. Love. Do it honestly, openly, and with your whole heart. At the end of the day, that’s what matters. If you aren’t with that person physically it won’t matter; just like it didn’t matter your Papa wasn’t here the last few years. His love, our love, filled my heart and soul, and I wouldn’t have found anything able to fulfill me the same, so there was no reason to look when he was taken from us. Love doesn’t end when one of you isn’t here. It’s everlasting. I have a feeling you know this. At a young age, you and William had the same connection I watched with your parents. Their love withstood the test of time and many hardships, just as I know you can with William. If I’m wrong, I encourage you to fall in love. You will compare your first love to all others, even though you shouldn’t. Your first love brings you a new experience, new feelings, and a sense of wonder. It can’t be duplicated, and it shouldn’t be your standard. All people are brought into our lives for a reason, don’t try to search the reason just take the lesson and move forward. Remember with love comes forgiveness. It’s a scary place to be, vulnerable and exposed, yet it is the most wonderful creation invented. The heart won’t lie to you.

Forgiveness is another lesson. Some say I forgive you, but I won’t forget what you did. That’s wrong. It’s forgive AND forget. You can’t forgive if you hold on to what you had to excuse. You’ll remember it and harbor resentment. There are few things that are unforgivable. You will know in your heart what they are. Remember two wrongs don’t make a right. Yes, an old saying you’ve heard many times, but if you don’t live by the meaning, it hardens your heart, and you, my precious girl, are too special to be jaded.

You stood by my side in the kitchen too many times to count just as I know you’ll stand by my side as this disease ravages my brain and my wish is you stop. Go live your life, remember me as I was, not what I’ve become. I know you will mourn me, but please don’t. My body may be here, but my mind isn’t, and my heart is breaking for the struggle you’ve endured. I ask you to quit punishing yourself seeing me as I am.

I’m writing this to you not knowing what has become of me but guessing what it’s like now. If I’m not with you today, I know it’s progressed and robbed me of this occasion, and in turn robbed you of it, as well. I’m sorry for that. I remember your mom walking across that stage with such a void in her heart, and it hurts me knowing you’re going to experience the same thing. I wish it were my arms holding you telling you it will be okay, but it can’t be. I have some peace knowing it will be William, your parents, and your friends. Take solace where you can, borrow their strength when you need it, but promise me you won’t let what is happening to me ruin your life, postpone your dreams, or stop you in achieving your goals. That’s what I fought for every day for you.

I taught you to tap into that inner strength you exuded from day one. I didn’t want you to put one foot in the front of the other and walk to your destiny but to leap and run, jump and soar to your dreams. They are all achievable because you have the determination to make them happen. I believe in you and need you to believe in yourself.

Fear is another lesson. A healthy dose of it is good; a crippling shot of it isn’t what I want for you. The unknown is scary, but I want you to forge ahead and conquer that fear. No matter what it is, show it who is boss. Leave your footprint tattooed in each journey; they will become your roots. Place a piece of you in every endeavor; they will be your branches. Walk proud and create your own path.

This disease doesn’t scare me, I know I won’t feel any pain, and I need you to understand that. I know it scares you, I know there are many occasions you will be angry and wish I was there, and that’s okay. That’s human, but when you cry or get angry, know that I was there. In that space in your heart you reserved for me. All the laughter, the lessons . . . remember them, wrap your arms around them and embrace them, Emma. Teach your children and grandchildren. That’s my legacy. What I was able to share with you, I want you to share with others.

As sad as I am knowing I’m not there today, I’m sadder for the pain this will bring you. The questions swarming inside your pretty little head, the sorrow drowning your body, the doubt that you matter to me. I’m sorry for that.

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I love you. I’m proud of you. No matter where my mind is our hearts are connected. That is unbreakable. Look up at the sky each night knowing we are going to be waking up to the same sun, we are both looking at the same sunset, we are both staring at the same moon . . . we are both existing in this big world together. You a part of me and me a part of you. When I’m no longer on this earth, I’m still with you, experiencing it all through your eyes.

I hope in this lifetime I’ve made as big of an impression on you as you etched on me. You’ve taught me humility, grace, morality. You brought me love, laughter, and faith in what love can create. You, my dear Emma, mean more to me than words can say, and I’m so damn sorry I can’t remind you of this daily.

My biggest regret is not telling you more how much I loved you, not stopping to smell the flowers with you often. So don’t make my mistakes. Live each day as it’s your last, don’t settle for anything in life, don’t stop leaping and climbing from one venture to another . . . and never forget I love you.

All my love,

Nana

She knew what I would need in my darkest hour. She knew me better than I know myself. All in past tense. Alzheimer’s can suck a dick . . . with a side of an STD. The guilt I’m wallowing in is suffocating. I hear the creak; the dock alerting me my prince has come to comfort me. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, tell that to someone who believes it. I won’t bother you but I need to be here.” He is rubbing his hand over his chest, and I don’t doubt my pain is his. It’s the way we work. It’s the only thing we’ve known.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Want to talk?” He pulls me against him and leads us both down to a sitting position.

“Not really. I’m sitting here reading her words, and I feel like shit.”

His fingers grip my chin, “I don’t think that was her intention, Ems.”

“It wasn’t her letter. It’s me. For months, I’ve dreaded going to see her. I’ve let it become an obligation instead of the best part of my day. I grip the handle to the door leading to her room, and I inhale and chant, ‘Only a few minutes.’ Like I’ve put a timeframe, and all of a sudden it’s become a punishment. What kind of person does that make me?”

“Honest. Baby, it is a punishment to you. Not because you don’t love her, but because you love her so much. Seeing her, never knowing what that will entail is an upheaval. Your emotions are like a yo-yo. You do more than most do. You may feel it’s an obligation, but I know you . . . it’s not. It may be a chore getting you there, but you don’t skip it. It’s killing you going to school. Sure, you may be relieved you don’t have to see it every day, but it’s still tearing you up. You’re human, not perfect. This has been an adjustment for all of you, her as well, and there isn’t a right or wrong way. Nobody has created a map for this portion of our lives, and we do the best we can. You have done the absolute best.”

“She told me to stop missing her. To live my life.”

“And?”

“How can I? Each step she isn’t here is a major blow. My vision for each milestone had her in the forefront.”

“Sometimes we have to adjust our dreams. Make them the reality we deal with.”

“Reality sucks.”

He chuckles. “Sometimes it does. You’ve got to let this go, Ems. You can be there for her, keep her memory alive here,” he kisses my head and places his hand over my heart. “You have to go to school, experience life, and quit wading through it. Dive deep and slay the waves. She’d want that.”

“That’s what she said.” I laugh at the crude humor not at all funny in the moment.

“She’s a smart lady.”

“The best.”

“And so are you.”

“I’ll try.” And I will. I will try for her. For him. Most of all for myself because I don’t want to let her down.

“That’s all we can do.”

“Damn, look at you acting all smart.”

“College man, baby.” He puffs his chest to amuse me.

“Yeah, don’t get too smug there, boy wonder, I’m now a college gal.”

“Yep, and after this summer, we’re on equal footing. How did I bust my ass for two years, and my girlfriend who just graduated is the same year as me? Overachiever.”

“Well, when this girlfriend had no boyfriend at home, all those AP classes looked appealing.”

“I still don’t have a major.” He drops his head. Confusion, frustration, and shame are evident in his voice.

“I know.” An impasse none of us can broach. He has to figure this out himself.

“I’m thinking of just a basic business major.”

“That’s smart if you don’t know what you want.” I keep my voice soothing.

“I know what I want.”

“And I support you. But remember what you said about having to adjust your dreams? I just want you to be smart.”

“That’s all I have. The only compromise I can offer. I don’t want to fight.”

“We aren’t fighting. Get a business degree. After playing pros if you want to do something else you have that option. Nothing is set in stone.”

“Except us.”

“Except us.” I close the distance between our mouths and kiss him like he’s my lifeline. At this moment he is. My leash to the shore. My constant in this frenzy amid us.

I pause at the front of the spa. My nerves spiraling, the anxiety creeping throughout my body strangling me. I close my eyes and exhale. “Open the door, baby.” Will’s deep voice resonates deep inside giving me the final push to do this.

I woke this morning with excitement churning and a smile stretching my cheeks. I forgot for a minute. It crashed down upon me, the uncertainty of what today will bring. Who will she be? Who will I be to her? I was grateful for this opportunity but nervous just the same. I didn’t want to overwhelm her, but I needed this day.

I needed it for me.

I needed it to remind me.

I needed it to keep close to me when I went to school.

I needed the reassurance I was hoping for. I put too much pressure on myself and her, wagering today was somehow going to erase her diagnosis and obliterate my fear of life without her. Avaricious of me, acting like an entire life of love and lessons comes down to one day, but I’m hanging by a thread. The present is suffocating the past, and the past is where my Nana is, the present is where she resides in body not in mind.

“I can do this,” I whisper.

“You can. No matter what happens today it’s still a memory you can put up here.” He taps to my head. “It may vary in what you dream, but remember you have to adjust for reality. It’s just as special.” His words wise. His actions noble. His love healing.

Nana and her aide are waiting in a private room, soothing music piped through the speakers—aromatherapy burning . . . Nana is calm. She’s smiling, relaxed, and dare I say eager. She’s chatting with the aide and pauses when she sees me. “This is my friend. She’s come to celebrate my birthday.” It’s not her birthday, and I’m her granddaughter damn it, not her friend.

“Hi, Nana. Hi, Adelaide.” I let the smile cling to my face the way Bible beaters cling to the cross. Like somehow it will save me. It will hold me up when I want to crash to the floor. “Ready to be pampered?”

Nana nods and squirms in her chair, excited like a toddler going to an amusement park. The coordinator comes in and leads us to the changing room and instructs us what to do and what services we will get. They’ve arranged it to all be done in one room so Nana won’t be shuffled, and we can minimize confusion for her. We’ll begin with a facial and pedicure, followed by a massage.

It all flows smoothly, all seamless with nonsense and chitchat. Nana tells me what she’s been cooking (she hasn’t), what trips she’s preparing for (she isn’t), and how Papa will love this shade of red she chose for her toes (he would). She becomes antsy during the massage, and my focus is trained to her movements. I can’t relax. She begins swatting the masseuse’s hands, rolling from one side to the other, avoiding her touch. Adelaide comes to her and tries calming her. I sit up and pull the towel tight and go to her. She’s sitting up and ready to get away from the table.