I wish I could just give him what he wants. I don’t want to lose him, but he wants my whole heart, and I just don’t have a whole one to give.
Trying to pull myself together, I sit up on the couch and look around. This office needs to be packed up. It’s sitting here like a shrine. Nate’s stuff is exactly as it was left. Looking at it now, it just feels creepy, and I’m not surprised I can’t feel him anymore.
I stand from the couch and head towards the door. Grabbing Nate’s jacket off the hook, I brush the dust off and wrap it around myself. Bringing it up to my face I take a deep breath, trying to smell him on it. There is a faint scent, but I’m not sure if it’s the jacket, or just my memories.
I make my way to the bathroom to clean up before I go to the place where I know I will feel him the most.
Walking through the cemetery, all the memories of that day come flooding back. It’s funny, but I remember more now than I did at the time.
When I reach Nate’s memorial plot, guilt overtakes me as I see all the dirt and dust gathered on it. There are dead flowers and leaves strewn about.
I haven’t been here since his funeral. I couldn’t bring myself to face it. At home and at the office I could believe he was still around, and that maybe he would walk in the door at any time.
Sinking to my knees on the damp grass, I resign myself to the fact that maybe I haven’t handled Nate’s death that well. Maybe instead of avoiding the topic and distracting my therapist I should open up to her.
It’s not that I don’t like Julie, because I do, but I don’t really talk about Nate with anyone. It’s like I don’t think they’ll understand or maybe they’ll judge me, or worse, give me their opinions. Or maybe deep down it’s because I know I’m not handling things well. Denial, isn’t it? A stage of grief.
“So, you know what’s been going on,” I say to the marble stone in front of me as I brush off the leaves at the base of it. “I wonder how you feel about it all.” I choke on the last bit, my eyes filling with tears. “I know you’re probably more than disappointed in me,” I cry. “It’s just been so hard, Nate.”
I think back to the three months following Nate’s accident: locking myself in that massive house, obsessing over a pregnancy that wasn’t there, falling into that deep depression, that huge hole. Depression. Another stage of grief.
I then remember Saxon coming to get me, coming to save me.
“He helped me, Nate. I don’t know how exactly, but it’s easier to breathe when he’s around.” I take a deep breath. “He’s left me, and it’s all my fault. I pushed him away.” A sob tears through me, and my shoulders shake as I hang my head.
“I don’t think I can go on without him. But how am I supposed to let you go? Why do I have to choose? Why can’t I have you both?” I cry. “But you’re not here, are you? Rachel was right; you aren’t a choice.” My only options are being alone or taking that step with Saxon. Giving him my whole heart, no matter what condition it’s in.
Standing from Nate’s grave, I kiss my fingers and lay them atop the stone. I wipe the tears from my face as I make my way back to the car.
Sitting in the car, I start the engine, turning the heat on, before leaning back in my seat and closing my eyes. The radio DJ announces the next song as “Wherever You Will Go” by Charlene Soraia.
The song begins to play and a beautiful female voice croons to me. I listen carefully to the lyrics and they flow through me, warming me from the inside. It’s like it was written for me. Written for me to hear at this exact moment.
The songs seems familiar, although I don’t exactly recognise it. After the final notes the DJ says it was a remake, the original by The Calling. My eyes shoot open at his information. The Calling? They were one of Nate’s favourite bands. I sit up and immediately open my centre console and begin riffling through it, searching CD after CD. There are covers without CDs and CDs without covers… shit.
I flip two more CDs… there it is. The Calling. I replace the current CD in the player and begin flipping through the songs, hoping it’s on this album. As soon as the first notes flow through my speakers my body relaxes. I hit repeat and lie back in my seat, closing my eyes once more.
I let the words wash over me, as if Nate was singing them just for me. I never really believed in the afterlife, wasn’t sure where we went after death. I didn’t believe the dead contacted us from beyond, but this message from Nate could not have been clearer unless he was here sitting right next to me.