Eleanor & Grey(30)

We laughed, too.

I’d never forget that, hearing Mom’s laughter.

At one point, she asked me to let her go, and she stood where her feet met the ocean. Her eyes shut, and she held her hands up in the air, her arms forming a V, and tears rolled down her cheeks as the setting sun kissed her face. “Yes, yes, yes,” she cried, feeling every part of the world around her, seeming to feel more alive than she had in quite some time. Then she reached out to me, and I took her hand in mine. She leaned on me, and I was strong enough to hold her up on my own. We stared out into the night, finding a new kind of comfort.

She was okay in that moment.

She was happy.

And I swore, for a short period of time, the water healed her soul.





Two days later, Mom took her last breath.

Dad held her right hand, and I held her left.

The clock in the bedroom ticked, but time stood still.

I thought there would be some kind of comfort that came from knowing she was no longer in pain. I thought since we had seen it coming, it wouldn’t hurt as much. I thought I would be somewhat okay.

But I wasn’t.

Every single part of me ached.

Nothing can prepare a person for death.

You can’t speed past the hurt to reach the closure.

You are simply overtaken by sorrow. Grief shows its face and it unforgivingly drowns you, and for a while, you wonder if staying under the water would be better than ever breathing again.

When my mother took her last breath, I wanted to take my last one right there beside her, but I knew that wasn’t what she had wanted. She wanted me to emerge from the darkness, to swim again.

And I would.

Just not that night.

That night, heartbreak won the battle as I steadily fell apart.





16





Greyson





FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected]

DATE: May 1, 4:33 PM

SUBJECT: Sorry



I ran into Shay at school today, and she told me about your mom. She said she and her mom were heading down to Florida to help your dad and you out. I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m so damn sorry and I know that doesn’t do anything or change anything, but I just wanted you to know. There’s not a day that passes that I don’t think about you guys, about you. I just wish there were something more I could do.

I remember when my grandpa died, I just sat around, uncertain of what to do. I’d never lost anyone before, and it fucked me up for a good minute. People told me to pull myself together and man up about it. “Death happens, kid. Better get used to it,” my uncle Tommy said. “Real men don’t cry,” my dad echoed.

I think that’s bullshit, though.

Be fucked up for a good minute.

Don’t pressure yourself to feel better until you’re ready.

I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.

She was what every kid dreamed of having as a parent. I know I did a million times over.

I’m just really fucking sorry.

-Grey





FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected]

DATE: May 2, 2:02 AM

SUBJECT: Re: Sorry



Grey,

It’s two in the morning and everything hurts. By everything, I mean every single thing.

My legs ache. My back is sore. My throat is dry. My eyes burn.

I can’t breathe.

Every time I think about it, I fall apart, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s just a nonstop cycle of falling apart over and over again.

I just want her back.

I’m going to be fucked up for a good minute…maybe even for quite a few.



-Ellie





17





Eleanor





“Hello?” My voice cracked as I said the words. It was three in the morning as I answered my cell phone, and after a day of crying, my vocal cords were exhausted.

“Hi, Ellie.” Greyson’s voice was low and tired. For a minute, I thought I was dreaming. “Were you sleeping?”

“No.” I sat up a bit in bed. “I can’t.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

“What are you doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. So, I checked my email and figured I’d call. I just wanted to make sure you were breathing.”

Tears began rolling down my face as I clenched the phone to my ear. “I can’t talk, Grey. It hurts too much to talk.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to talk. We can just keep our phones pressed to our ears. Okay?”

I nodded as if he could see me. “Okay.”

I lay back down and kept the cell phone glued to my ear. His breaths were light through the receiver, but I was thankful for them. At some point, I fell asleep, and when I woke up again, his snores were still coming through the speaker.

It was quiet, and he was snoring, and tears were falling down my cheeks as I listened.

That was the very minute I knew I loved him—when I was broken-hearted at four in the morning and he still showed up for me.

Even though he hadn’t said it, I was certain he loved me, too. People didn’t have to talk about love to know it existed. Love wasn’t only real because someone said it out loud. No, love just kind of sat there quietly, in the shadows of the night, healing the cracks that lived in our hearts.