The Empty Jar(84)
Or a beginning.
I don’t want to hurt my sweet Grace, but she’s grown up now. She’ll be busy with her own life. She doesn’t need the added worry of her old man clogging up the smooth runnings of her existence.
I’d love to see how she ends up, see her children, see her become even more like her mother, but I also miss my Lena. Still miss her so, so much.
As soon as the discomfort eases, I rise to unpack the laptop I brought. I power it on and pull up the extensive photo and video collection it holds. I find what I’m looking for quickly—the folder simply labeled LENA.
Scrolling through, I find the range of dates I’m looking for then I scan that section for the one entry in particular. When I spot it, I click to open it.
It’s a short video of my wife speaking to our daughter. At the time, I’d been asleep in the other room of this suite. Unbeknownst to me, she’d just found out she was pregnant and had already begun recording messages to the child she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to bring into the world. If she’d asked me then, on that very day, I would have told her that I had no doubt she could. And would. To this day, I’ve never met a stronger person than my Lena.
Circling the pointer over the play button for several seconds, I take two deep breaths before I click it. There’s a slight pause, and then I see my wife appear on the screen in front of me, big as life and twice as stunning. Behind her, framed by the window like an expensive painting, is the Trinità dei Monti. I know that if I walk over and pull back the curtain, I’ll see the exact same view, right down to the angle. If I’m careful enough, I could probably even stand where she stood. I won’t do that, though. I won’t risk giving that scene, that moment, her moment any other meaning.
It was Lena’s.
And Grace’s.
I realize, however, that I would’ve given anything to see her standing where she stood. Right now. Even just one more time.
Exhaling loudly, my eyes scan my beautiful wife’s face as she begins to speak. Her happiness, her pregnancy, her burgeoning hope was already showing in the faint pink of her cheeks. Although I’ve watched every millisecond of footage at least two thousand times over the years, it never stops my arms from breaking out in chills when I first hear her voice. It’s as though she’s in the room with me.
Only she isn’t.
She never will be again.
And that loss, that cold, hard realization never fails to crush me anew.
“Hello, my beautiful child,” she croons softly, smiling into the camera. “I just found out about you today. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see you to tell you this in person, but I hope you get to see this. I want you to know that you made me so happy today. You changed everything. For the better. Already. I don’t even know if you’ll be a boy or a girl, but I feel complete today.
“I’ve wanted you for all of my life. I’ve dreamed of feeling you kick for the first time. I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms for the first time. I’ve dreamed of what your face might look like—your smile, your hands, your little feet. You’ll be perfect, I know. I know in my heart that you’ll be the most perfect thing in the world. The best thing I’ve ever done. And I’ll die happy if I can see you just one time before I go.” I can see where Lena was trying not to cry, and my gut twists. “I love you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.”
I watch the screen long after Lena’s face has disappeared. As I always do when I replay the videos, I feel so homesick I’m nearly nauseous with it. But it doesn’t stop me from hitting play over and over and over again. It’s the best kind of homesick I can think of. And the pain, while it still hurts, it’s less sharp than it once was. Time truly does heal.
But it can’t make me forget her. And it can’t take away my desire to be with her again.
Nothing can.
Finally, some time later, I stand and kick off my shoes. Carrying the laptop, I walk into the bedroom and stretch out on the bed. Lazily, I search for one of Lena’s longer videos, and I hit play.
The last thing I see before I doze off is my wife’s striking face, her laugh ringing in my ears.
********
A more incredible wedding ceremony I can’t imagine. The flowers, the cathedral, the music, the atmosphere…it’s like one of the fairy tales I used to read to my precious baby girl when she was just a few years old.
I might be a tad biased, but I also think the bride is the most breathtaking sight I’ve ever seen. Aside from her mother, of course.
Grace and Lena… The two could’ve been twins. Or at least really similar sisters. The resemblance is uncanny. The biggest differences are Grace’s chin, which has a touch of me in it, and the shade of her hair. It’s a darker blonde than her mother’s. Otherwise, she is Lena made over.
From the beginning, I prayed that she would be. I wanted, needed to see Lena after she died. It was the one request I’d been granted. It makes it hard to look at my daughter sometimes, but impossible to look away. And today is no exception.
Pride and a bittersweet mixture of love and loneliness well in the center of me when my little girl appears in the doorway across the vestibule. She crosses slowly toward me and then stops a few inches away.
“You ready?” she asks. Her eyes are sparkling like pale chocolate diamonds, and her cheeks are flushed with the glow of pure happiness. I remember what that feels like, and I hope my only child can have the privilege of enjoying that for several decades to come.