Bring Me Back(22)

“Benjamin,” she says, “he was a good boy. He was always so sweet and thoughtful—putting others needs above his. I wasn’t surprised when he told me he wanted to be a doctor. Saving lives … it was just ingrained in him. Once, when he was little, probably six or so, he tried to save the life of a dying mouse he found in our backyard. A cat had gotten it, and let me tell you this mouse was in bad shape. But Ben …” She shakes her head. “He didn’t give up on it. And even when it died in his hands he said to me, ‘Next time, mommy, I’ll know what to do. I’ll save the next one.’”

I squish my eyes closed and tears dampen my cheeks.

So many tears.

“And, Ben,” she continues, “he grew up to live his dream. He met the love of his life. He was to get married in less than a month and I know he would’ve been the best husband he could be to Blaire. I’m sorry that he’ll never get to prove that to you.”

I lift my head and find her looking at me.

“We were all robbed of a future with Ben in it. As a parent, you never want to outlive your child. I’ve had a hard life and a lot of bad days, but I’d relive those bad days a thousand times over if it meant I never had to live one of today. Thank you.” She hiccups on a cry and Jacob helps her back to her chair.

This is the part where I know I’m supposed to speak—to shed some enlightening words on my time with Ben. I can’t. To say the words is to accept that he’s dead and I don’t want to. I don’t want the finality.

“Blaire,” my mom whispers, nudging me with her shoulder.

I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.

I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes—waiting, hoping, for me to do or say something.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, the preacher, or whoever he is, gets up and says a few final words.

I don’t even hear them. Everything becomes a dull roar in my ears.

I feel a drop of water hit my cheek and it’s not my own tears—although those are still falling too. I look up and see that the sky has turned a dark stormy gray. Thunder rumbles in the sky. The sky—the heavens—they’re echoing my pain. I know it. It’s like Ben’s up there and he’s sad and angry because this is happening and it’s all so unfair.

People begin to stand, and I know it’s time to leave, but my butt is glued to the seat. I can’t go. To leave is the final goodbye and I need one more minute. One more second.

“Blaire?” My mom stands and waits for me to do the same.

I shake my head.

“Blaire,” she says again, this time in a harsher tone.

“No.” I stare at his casket and the waterfall of flowers. “Give me a minute.”

She shakes her head. “Your father and I will be in the car.”

I sit there until everyone’s gone. I need one last moment alone with him. This is all I’m going to get for the rest of my life.

Make it count.

I stand and touch my fingers to the cool dark wood of the casket. I pluck one of the flowers from the overflowing bunch with my free hand and twirl it between my fingers.

There are so many things I want to say. My mind is overflowing with an overabundance of words and I can’t seem to grasp any of them. I don’t think there’s any way to try to convey my thoughts and feelings.

“Oh, Ben.” I choke on a sob and wipe at my tears. “What has become of us?” My fingers tremble against the wood. “How did things end up like this? We’re good people, right? What did we do to deserve this?” I cry. “It hasn’t even been a week yet and I miss you so much. My heart aches, Ben. I never thought heartache was a real thing, but it is and it sucks.” I wipe at my face and groan, trying to hold myself together. “You are the love of my life—dead or alive that hasn’t changed. Your mom says I’ll move on, but she’s wrong. Most people are lucky if they find one ever-lasting love. I don’t think you can find two.” I can feel the anger building inside me once again, but I stamp it down. I don’t want to be angry right now. Not in my last moments with Ben. I shove my fingers through my hair. It’s neatly curled, but that’s not my doing. My mom forced me to let her do my hair this morning. I think she was afraid I’d show up at the funeral in my pajamas and bed-head if she didn’t help me.

“I hope, that up there in heaven—because I know that’s where you are—that you can hear me, and you know that I love you. I love you so damn much.” I shake my head. “That love isn’t going to fade because of death. You’re going to live on forever, right here.” I touch my fingers to my heart like he’s there to see. “I love you, Ben. Now and forever and always.”

I open my purse—some small clutch-type thing—and pull out a paper crane.

I laugh a little—it’s the first time I’ve laughed since the accident. “I finally made one of my own.” I set the bird amidst the flowers. I kiss my fingers and touch them to the casket. “I love you,” I say one last time.

And then the sky opens up and it pours.

I believe that the rain stinging my cheeks is kisses from Ben. He’s here. He’ll always be here.





Stage One: Denial

It’s been three days since Ben’s funeral, and I still don’t believe it actually happened. It’s like I’ve shut down—gone into zombie mode or something.