I couldn't help but go out to the cemetery and see the foundation on which her monument will rest. Tim drove me; I sat in the passenger seat, barefoot and despondent. He asked a couple times on the drive out there if I was sure I wanted to go. Funny question, that. I most definitely did not, but motioned for him to keep driving, anyway.
"Honey, I'm afraid this is going to upset you."
I laughed hoarsely. "When am I not upset?"
"True." he acknowledged, and turned his eyes back to the road. Before long, we were turning down the narrow lane, easing the car over the bumps and curves.
"I hate it here." I hissed as we made the familiar turn.
"Honey, it's a beautiful little cemetery. It's really very peaceful." he said, turning his gaze out the window as we rolled slowly along.
"Yeah, I love it." I said, sarcastic and mean. Oh, my heart. It takes such a beating every time I come here.
Resolved to overcome Big Ass Baby Syndrome, I stepped out of the car, and walked on the soft grass in my bare feet. There it was, a perfectly proportioned, smooth rectangle of concrete. No digging her out through that. Nope.
We looked at it, and said absolutely nothing. What was there to say?
Our words had been passed on the drive over. Tim had said, "I can't for the life of me figure out why the monument upsets you so much. It's immortalizing her! It's honoring her! Doesn't that make you happy? Doesn't that make you feel good?"
I looked at him- his face so open and sincere. Certainly, he meant this. But he'd not been there to see the plump, slightly bald little baby she'd been. He didn't get to see her first wobbling steps. He doesn't remember her slobber on his shoulder. He wasn't the one she'd ran to and clung to all nineteen years of her life. He didn't blow out candles with her until her sixth birthday. Every moment he didn't have with her, was stuck fast in my throat. I just barely stopped myself from saying, "I bet you wouldn't feel that way about Jake."
Come on, Nick, aren't you past all that by now?
Yes, I am, but sometimes when you're hurting, the ugliest words come so fluidly out of your mouth. And no matter how well everyone says I'm doing, or how well I even suspect myself of being, I am still experiencing the most hurt I've ever known or even considered. It engulfs my soul, a seamless slip cover. Where it ends and I begin, I have no idea. We've become one- the pain and I. It's a hard, but necessary marriage...and like it or not, we're just gonna have to make it work.
I looked down at the ground again, and noticed someone had been to see my girl. There was a twine of long-stemmed roses below her sign, and rose petals scattered on her grave.
I turned to see if Tim wanted to walk a bit. He did, curious to see if there was another obelisk monument in the new section or if Cory's was going to be the first. I hot footed it over the gravel lane, wincing as the stones bit into my feet. We walked on, pointing out a marker here or there.
I tried to explain to Tim as we walked along that this felt the last step. He listened; he consoled, but I know he didn't understand. It wasn't his entire life underground. She was mine. She'd always been mine.
We picked our way back. When we got to the gravel lane, Tim held out his arms, "Want me to carry you so you don't hurt your feet?"
Tim is steady, but seldom chivalrous. I smiled at this gallant gesture. Carry me? Yes, please. I've been waiting a long time for someone to carry me, instead of the other way around. He hefted me, carrying me across the sharp stones- which would have made Cory smile and tell us how cute we are together- and placed me on my feet in front of Cory's spot. Wordless, we said our goodbyes to her.
The next day, I stumbled on some pictures Tim had on his I-phone of Cory and him at their Friday lunches. There was one, in particular, that had been taken only a couple of months before the accident. She was tucked into a booth across from Tim at Speed's, one of their haunts. I never took Cory to Speed's on Mommy/Cory days. I never offered, and she never asked. Speed's is one of those greasy spoon diners, but it was beyond special because it's where her dad took her for their time together.
It took me back in time to the therapy session where Cory revealed that she wanted time with Tim, without Jake, just the two of them. She wanted to get closer to him. She needed to be someone's little girl. Her therapist suggested she write it out to Tim in a letter, which she did the minute she got home. I think about it now, knowing Tim has that folded note put away in a safe place, a treasure he can barely look at. How brave she was, when you think about it. If that's not laying yourself out there to be accepted or rejected, I don't know what is, especially given the track record of the men in her life. Bless her heart.
I lingered over this picture of her, hair all skinned back in a ponytail, a headband framing her face, that just shone, no makeup required. She was so incredibly beautiful, and her newly gained peace of mind showed in her eyes. There had been a look I'd grown to recognize when things were not well in her mind. There was none of that sick, confused fright here.
There was a strong little bird with the most beautiful song to sing, who'd finally broken free of her cage.
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