I didn’t know he had made one, but I guess his father advised him to do so when he decided to enlist in the military. He must have helped him write one and get his life insurance policy set up. Cane’s father, Terry, is a divorce attorney here in Miami, but also helps the rich and wealthy keep their assets in order.
I swear my jaw hit the floor as I heard the words come out of Terry’s mouth that Cane had a very substantial life insurance policy that would be split between me and his parents. He wanted to make sure that if anything happened to him I was taken care of. All funeral expenses were covered by the military and handled by his parents, whom I am grateful for, because I don’t think I could’ve gotten through picking out a casket to bury my fiancé in.
The Army gave Cane’s parents all the belongings he had with him in Iraq, and while I was there today, his mother gave them to me. She said she knew Cane would want me to have them.
So here I sit on my couch, staring at a big green bag full of everything he had with him overseas. With shaky fingers, I open his bag and one by one begin removing all the items packed away inside.
I can’t help but hug his t-shirt tightly against my chest and breathe in his scent, it’s mixed with the smell of the outdoors but I don’t care.
A small smile spreads across my lips, tears sliding over them as I pull out a box and open it to find pictures of us at my graduation, on the beach the night we got engaged and lying in bed here in our apartment. Right beside them is a bunch of Grizzly wintergreen dip canisters. In his last care package, I sent him a roll of them because he couldn’t go a day without one. He had said, especially over there; it was the only thing he could do to pass the time.
As I take each item out, a small envelope catches my attention because it has my name written on it. My stomach is twisting into so many knots; I swear my intestines must look like a fricking pretzel right now.
Lying back against the arm of the couch I hold the envelope between my fingers as I stare at it, debating if I want to read it. The day Cane died I found a new email in my inbox. He had sent it a few hours before he died just telling me he loved me, and hoped I had a great first week back to school, he had also asked about Beyond Redemption. He was so excited for me to finally be doing what I love and with a band I’m a huge fan of.
I read that email over and over so many times I swear the words are now burned into my brain.
I don’t know if I can physically handle whatever the hell is in this letter. I try to take a breath, but my lungs feel like they’re full of cement, and I can’t get a single breath of air into them. Sliding my knees up to my chest, I dip my head and rest my forehead against my legs as I try to stop the panic attack that is consuming me.
My sobs are the only sound echoing throughout my apartment. I’ve cried too many tears in this place; it feels like the walls are closing in on me every moment I am in here. This place used to be a safe haven for me, where I’d spend countless hours making love to Cane, or just curling up on this very couch watching movies together. Now it feels empty and a constant reminder of what my life used to be.
Finally, I feel the pressure on my chest slowly lifting as my panic attack begins to pass. Every time I have one it terrifies the crap out of. Because of them, my family doctor gave me a note to be out of class and work for the time being; until the attacks go away or at least become manageable.
I haven’t been back to school since the day I was told Cane was dead. Just the thought of facing all those people and their sympathetic looks and words of condolence is too much to handle right now.
The pain and loss is still too raw.
Holden let me know the band still wants me as their lead singer, but understands right now I need space and time to grieve. They temporarily have another girl filling in for their local gigs, and I’m grateful they think I’m talented enough to wait for me.
Finally feeling a little better, but still shaky, I grab my cell and text Roxie.
Me:
I just found a letter from Cane in his things sent back from Iraq…IDK if I can read it :/
Within seconds, my phone beeps alerting me that Roxie text me back. I haven’t moved a single inch. I’m surprised I haven’t burned a hole through the letter with how intently I’ve been staring at it. I am fighting an internal battle: should I read it now…or wait, and read it when I’m more mentally prepared to see what Cane wrote to me?
Roxie:
READ IT! Cane would want u 2 if he took the time 2 write u one last letter. <3 I’m here 4 u if u need me.
I wipe away my tears and dry my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater before fingering the tiny envelope again. Roxie is right; Cane would want me to read this now.