Letters Written in White (10 page)

A part of all of us died with her. I can forgive her for killing a part of me. I’m not sure I can ever forgive her for what this has done to them.

“Our eyes are blind to the beauty within.”

THIS TIME I didn’t just see through the mirror, I walked through it. I’m in it now, standing outside a cathedral. The vibrant colors of the stained glass windows are glinting from the sunrays that are bouncing off of them. Perfectly manicured green grass surrounds it. People all dressed in black are filing in through the large front doors. They walk with a dejected posture and solemn faces. I recognize a few, but I don’t see anyone I really ever knew that well, until I see them.

Our minivan pulls up and Grayson steps out. He’s dressed in a fine black suit and red tie. His face is empty, eyes hollow. When he walks around and slides the side door open, I see the kids.

Devin.

Desiree.

Devin’s wearing a little black suit matching his dad’s, and Desiree’s wearing a simple gray dress with a red sash. Her little feet step out in black ballet flats. She instantly grabs on to Grayson. He squeezes her little hand in his and gives her a comforting nod. She displays a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach her sad eyes. Devin is stoic. His mouth is in a hard-pressed line, and his brows are slightly drawn together. He looks straight ahead, not up at his father or over to his sister, just straight forward.

If I still had a beating heart in my chest, it would break for them. I know what this is, where we are. It’s my funeral, and I don’t want to go beyond those big doors. I don’t want to see it. I begin to back away, shaking my head from side to side, and then I see her. My mother pulls up and joins Grayson and the kids’ sides. She’s walking on shaky legs and looks as if she’s aged by years in the short period of time since I last saw her. They make their way up the steps and I’m frozen, staring.

“You have no choice, Riah. You go or you stay. And by stay, I mean you never find your key.”

I swiftly turn around and see an elderly woman with silver hair and wrinkly skin standing behind me. She’s dressed flamboyantly in reds, purples, and yellows. With this being a funeral, I frown at her attire. It doesn’t fit in here at all. She’s like a rainbow in a dark sky. But nothing here seems logical.

“How many of you are there?” I ask, almost irritated by the constant push and pull of the beings that keep trying to guide me through this place that’s full of more questions than answers.

“Enough,” she quips.

My eyes follow her hand as she pulls something from her pocket. I hear a crackling sound of rustling plastic when I see she’s opening a piece of hard candy. More bizarre on top of bizarre. She holds it out, offering it to me. It’s red and round and shiny.

“Here, have a piece of candy. You’ll need something sweet to get you through all the bitter you’re about to endure inside there,” she says, nodding toward the church.

“I don’t want candy and I don’t want to go in there. I already know what an awful person I am,” I plead with her.

“Child, you’re not going to see what an awful person you are. You’re going to see how awful you are not. That should scare you more than the latter. It’s easier to see the bad of who we are rather than accept the goodness we encompass. This is part of your journey. You have to walk this path or you’ll be standing still here forever. Your choice.”

She gives me a kind smile and pushes her hand toward me again; the red globe of sugar is resting in the palm of her wrinkly hand. I nod, plucking the candy from her hand and popping it into my mouth.

One indecisive step at a time, I walk down the aisle of the church. Slowly, I turn my head from side to side, scanning the crowd of people. I see familiar and unfamiliar faces. Most of them are people I haven’t seen in a long time. It’s odd how death can bring people together. It makes you wonder why we don’t make this kind of effort in life, yet we do it in the name of death.

I approach the open casket, and as much as I would think this would cause me to feel uneasy, it doesn’t. Looking at my lifeless shell, I can only recall the hell it put me through. And now that I’ve brought so many regrets to the surface since I died, I hate this person even more. She was a selfish bitch. She was a dreadful person who jumped ship, leaving her family treading water in the wake of her choice—a choice she wishes she could now take back.

I don’t know why the old woman thought I’d see anything good about myself in here. I roll the sweet candy around in my mouth and turn away from the casket. My family is sitting on the front row. Devin is staring directly at the casket, expressionless. I feel a pain surging through my entire body. He’s just a little boy. He shouldn’t be looking at his dead mother. His posture is drooping like he’s been dipped in sorrow and hung out to dry in loneliness. He doesn’t deserve this pain. I should’ve continued to live in pain rather than giving it to them to shoulder. Kids shouldn’t have to recover from their childhoods. Although I felt I was saving them from me, it seems as though I should’ve tried harder to save myself for them.

A short sermon is given, and then Grayson is brought up to the podium. With wide eyes, I watch him. He’s the one giving my eulogy? I’m not prepared for this. Staring up at the man I lived so many years of my life with, I long for him, even in death. His harrowed face encompasses beauty and pain as he unfolds a crisp piece of white paper. He straightens his shoulders and takes a deep breath before looking out toward the crowd. His mountain-lake eyes are glassy and his hands are unsteady. Grayson is rarely less than confident. Right now, he’s very obviously vulnerable. This man is unfamiliar to me. His jaw clenches and releases, clenches and releases. The silence in the room is deafening. Reaching up with his free hand, he loosens his tie and clears his throat before beginning.

“I was up all night trying to figure out the right words to say to you here today. I tried and I failed several times. That’s when I realized it’s not all of you I need to speak to.”

His eyes shift from the crowd to the casket.

“I need to speak to her. My wife.”

His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. He’s gripping the piece of paper with a force that has turned his knuckles white.

“I’ve written a letter to Riah, and if you all would be so patient as to allow me to say some things to her that need to be said, I would be grateful.”

I step up closer, my ears and eyes hanging on every move and word he’s saying. He begins to read the letter.

The letter to me.

He’s never written me a letter before. I stand before the casket, almost exactly where he’s directing his words, and I almost feel like it’s just the two of us as he starts to read.

“Dear Riah, at first I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to you. No, that’s a lie. I’m angry. That’s the first thing I wanted to say to you, but then I realized my anger will not bring you back. Nothing will. Nothing can. I know this, but more than that I also know these past several hours since I lost you I’ve time traveled into the past, wishing I would’ve taken the trip sooner, when you were still here with me.

“I’ve recalled the many years of our life together since I lost you. Remembering. Reflecting. Regretting. Through pages of photo albums, a closet full of your clothes, and a home filled with your sense of care and style, I found something I had forgotten.

“You. Riah. The woman whom I so happily surrendered my heart to many years ago.

“When I met you, I knew I would love you. When I lost you, I knew I hadn’t loved you enough.

“I want you to know I’m sorry for that, more sorry than these mere words on paper could ever express. When I vowed for better or for worse, I meant it, but I didn’t live it. All of the regret in the world won’t give me another chance to make my wrongs right, but if there’s any chance you can hear me, I want you to know…I would if I could.

“If I could go back a few days, I’d wrap my arms around you and tell you how much I’ve loved you ever since the day you found me. Because you did, you found me. I was a lost man, living a lost life, and you blew into it with more vigor and color than I’d ever seen before in a person. You broke all of my rules and did it with a smile. I let you and loved every minute of it.

“Not only were you beautiful; you were enigmatic in everything you did. You consumed me and I floated in the ocean of you, sailing under a rising sun I’d never seen shine so brightly before. You made me laugh. You made me needy for everything, Riah. I drank you in until I was drunk on every aspect of who you were, and then I asked you to be mine forever because I knew more would never be enough.

“The day I became your husband, I was happier than I had ever been. I couldn’t wait to be the provider of your present and the protector of your future. I did a good job for a while, and then slowly I began to slip. Fumbling and stumbling through the latter years of our marriage, I eventually fell. Somewhere between my stumble and my fall, I lost you.

“House payments, kids, career, and the rinse and repeat of life moved in where love and promises had moved out. Day by day, I watched you fade and drift off into a colorless existence. That’s when I needed to be your hero, your companion, and the protector of your future.

“Instead of seeing you, I saw the darkness that had slowly eaten you. With every bite your illness took from the flesh of you, I looked away. I didn’t want to see the ugliness, you fading away, so I lied to myself and I lied to you. The truth is, beneath all of my lies, falls, and failures, I still loved you. Many times at night, after you had fallen asleep, I’d stare at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the small part of your lips, and the elegant landscape of your face. The darkness wasn’t there then—it was sleeping too—and all I could see was the essence of you, the outward soul of who you were. I stared in awe of how much I loved you, how much I missed the people we once were. I just didn’t know how to find them again. Even worse, I didn’t even try.

“Your life taught me all about love. In the many moments of your life that weren’t clouded by your illness, you gave all of who you were to the people you loved. With reckless abandon, your loyalty was unwavering. Nothing could stop you from achieving your goals, and everyone who saw the real you, loved you with a genuine sincerity that could never be broken. You laughed and you loved in high volume, never caring if it might be too loud. It wasn’t. I’m thankful for every moment I had with you on this earth, and I know so many others feel the same. Your life meant so much to many.

“Your death has also taught me about time. It’s fleeting. Thirteen years, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long I had you. I look back on that time now and see how much of it we took for granted, and my heart aches to have it back. There are so many things I’d do again if I could have just one more day with you.

“Most of all, I would want to tell you how much you mattered to me, to our children, and to all of the people who loved you so much. Because you did, you do, and no matter how much time goes by without you, that will never change. You’ll always matter. You’ll always be important and never will you ever be forgotten. You’ve left a lasting impression here on this earth with every life you’ve ever touched. I know you had forgotten who you were, and if I could give you one thing to take with you wherever you are, it would be this: you were an amazing woman, wife, daughter, sister, and friend with an unforgettable spirit that will live on in the two little lives that you created.

“I promise you, my wife, mother of our children…to love them, teach them, protect them, and guide them in this life, while always reminding them that their mother always loved them.

“I miss you, Riah. I love you and I’m certain that I always will.

“Your husband, Grayson.”