Dear Life(107)

“Okay, just know, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings if I do.”

“Oh, I know you never would do that on purpose. Now go on.”

“I’m just wondering why you kept me sheltered my entire life. Why didn’t we ever venture out past our city limits? Why did you keep me so isolated that I didn’t have any friends?” I wince, hating the way I sound so ungrateful. This woman gave me everything and here I am questioning her parenting methods, but in order for me to move on, I need to know why.

Staring out the window, she sips her tea, the deep-set wrinkles in her cheeks reminding me of just how old she really is. “Did I ever tell you about the day your grandfather left me?”

“Um, not that I recall. Just that he was mentally ill and had to be hospitalized.”

“That’s correct, but what I didn’t tell you was that he was suffering from PTSD. He was a soldier, a brave one during the Vietnam War. He left for deployment, a happy, proud, loving man. When he came home, he was a completely different person. He wasn’t the Harold I married. His eyes read like a tortured novel, his reactions were scattered, his mind never fully immersed in the here and now. His mood continued to become unstable with each passing day, to the point where I had to lock myself in the bathroom because he treated the house like a war zone, never fully cognizant of his surroundings. Finally, I had to seek help and that’s when he hospitalized himself . . . for a day.”

“For a day?” I ask.

She nods. “He checked himself out the next day and hung himself in our house. I came home to find him there, dead, with a note saying the world was a bitter and grim place full of hatred, a place he didn’t want to live in anymore.”

“Oh my gosh, Grams. I had no idea.”

“Not a lot of people did. I was so distraught, so physically and emotionally impacted by his choice that I fell into a deep depression. I buried myself in a hole of solitude, never wanting to face the world that took my Harold away.” With glossy eyes, she looks up at me. “And then you came along. You were this little droplet of sunshine in my life I didn’t know I needed. Your bright, cheery self brought me back, and I didn’t want to lose that. So I kept you to myself. Was I wrong? Secluding you from the outside world? Yes, but would I do it again? Of course. You see, if I lost you to the same world, I would have lost myself. It was selfish of me, but it was the only way I knew how to hang on to the joy you brought me.”

“Grams.” Tears flood my eyes. “What’s changed now?”

She wipes under her eyes with shaky hands. “You’re a grown-up now. You handled my stroke with grace and maturity, and I knew at that moment I had to let you go to live your life the way you want to, not the way I want.” Cupping my cheek, she adds, “And look at you, my beautiful girl. You’re doing it. You’re putting yourself out there and experiencing everything this world has to offer: the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“I’m proving my existence,” I murmur in awe.

“Yes, dearie, you are.”

Reflecting back on the last few months, I consider everything I’ve accomplished so far: I’ve made friends. I’ve changed from the inside out, daring myself to complete certain challenges and learning new things, even if they are of the smallest variety. And most of all, I experienced the one emotion everyone in the world can connect with: love. Maybe it was short-lived, but I captured a moment with it, and for that, I should be proud of myself. But I still think there is more to come for me, there has to be.

A little unsure, I ask, “Do you think I’m capable of great things, Grams?”

“I think you’re capable of grand things, my dear. I think you’ve stuck your toe into the pool and have barely tested the waters. There is so much waiting for you outside these doors, and I can’t wait to see what you do with your untapped potential.”

Grams isn’t the first one to think I have potential. Carter said the same thing. Maybe it’s time I start believing it as well.

“Thank you.” Standing up, I take my empty teacup to the sink and give it a rinse.

“What’s your plan?” Grams calls out to me.

“My plan?”

“Yes, what’s your plan for life after the Dear Life program?”

Turning toward Grams, I dry my teacup and shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure, but I’m ready to find out.”

***

Dear Life,

His words keep ringing in my head over and over again. He loves me. And when he said those three beautiful words, at that very moment, all I could think about was how much I loved him, too. But I couldn’t say it. Something was stopping me.

At first, I thought it was my guilt for loving another man, but after spending many sleepless nights with his face in my mind, his voice echoing through my head, I realized it’s not my guilt holding me back, it’s me.

How can I fully give myself over to someone, a man who has given me every last inch of his soul, when I still live in my past? I can’t.

I can’t move forward when I’m surrounded by my past.

Accepting my past is more than just stating it, it’s about action. I wake up every morning and get ready in a bathroom that still has Eric’s toothbrush in the holder. I get dressed in a closet surrounded by his clothes. I walk through an apartment filled with shrines to the man I lost. The man who will never come back and love me again.