I guess this letter is as much for me as it is for you because I’m starting, not a new life, but a different one almost four hundred miles away. And there’s this part of me that feels like I’m leaving you behind. Not just geographically, but emotionally. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I suppose that will take time like everything else has.
I finally met Jacob and Jenny. He looks so much like you, and I see so much of you in him. The way he bites his lower lip when he’s totally focused on something. How he tilts his head when he’s asking a question. He already has your compassion. When we were at the park, he heard a baby crying, and he asked Jenny if he could hug the baby because it was sad. Jenny is self-assured, kind, and so grounded. She’s an amazing mother, Wyatt. She is playful and yet firm, she’s patient, affectionate, and she’s invited me to be a part of their lives. Jenny wants Jacob to know about you. When I gave her those two gifts that you had picked out for him, she hugged me. Those two packages were albatrosses that weighed me down for months. But when I saw the surprise and gratitude in her face, I knew that you had done the right thing.
Being with Lily and Jacob, I’ve learned that I enjoy the company of children. Who knew?! My parents, understandably, are surprised that I want to shift from public relations to preschool education. Ruthie told them there really wasn’t that much difference. That teaching was PR with a different age group. I’m going to miss her, but I did tell her she’s the reason I opted for a two-bedroom condo. She has no excuse not to visit. When I get settled, I’m going to look into certification programs.
Evan’s moving to Houston in a few weeks. He’s going to start teaching in January. We’ve been spending time with one another, but neither one of us is ready to rush into anything. We’re going to see where these new lives take us. He’s a different man than he was when we were together before. We’ve both been changed by unexpected tragedies, but we’re learning so much about ourselves and one another through them.
God and I are working things out. Or, as Ruthie reminded me, “God worked things out a long time ago, girlie. He’s been waiting for you to catch up.” After you died, and I found out about Jenny and Jacob, I thought I lost the life I’d dreamed about because God had decided I was next in line to be punished. Thing is, I was doing a great job punishing myself. God didn’t need to step in. But I’m realizing I don’t have to understand; that’s the whole point of faith. Like in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Indiana Jones is told he has to take a leap of faith and step out over that enormous chasm even though he doesn’t see the bridge. He does, and it’s there. So, I’m learning. One step at a time.
I love you, Wyatt. I still miss you, miss who we were together. I miss Stella. Even though I never had a chance to hold her in my arms, I held her in my heart. And that’s where you are. Tucked away with her in a place where only the three of us can meet.
While I was writing this, I remembered these lines from a poem by e. e. cummings that will forever remind me of you and Stella:
“i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart) i am never without it . . .”
I love you,
Livvy
EPILOGUE
Almost two years later . . .
Granny Ruth says lightning can’t strike twice in the same place. We all know that’s a myth, but nobody would dare say that to her. It’s her way of telling us that everything’s going to be okay.
And we don’t just want to believe her.
We all need to believe her.
Because, once again, we were all there. Waiting for you. All the plans we’d made, reserving a special suite, the balloons, the confetti.
Six hours later, you finally, blessedly, and miraculously arrived.
All seven pounds and fourteen ounces of you.
Your father whispered, “Thank you for our beautiful son,” and placed you in my arms. Arms that had been empty. Arms that waited and longed for you.
Evan Samuel Gendusa, born on New Year’s Eve, was about to meet his family.