“A choice to love and cherish and honour and trust and adore.
“A choice to choose love, all the while knowing it has the power to break you.
“A choice, dear friends, to give someone your entire heart.
“But in the end, love is what life is about.
“And love is the purpose of everything.”
John broke from the ranks, striding in leaf-crunching boots to bear hug me. Cassie joined him, her subtle perfume clouding around us.
“We’re here. You and Jakey are not alone.” John let me go, blowing his nose on a handkerchief.
“I love you, Della.” Cassie kissed my cheek and squeezed my arm before guiding her father back to their places.
With their kind support, I stood braver in the face of heartbreak and tucked my page away.
I smiled at the crowd, wobbly and watery. “Ren died knowing how loved he was. And we’re still here, knowing he’ll always love us in return. Some might say our romance is over. That his death ruins our story. And I’d agree, but only because romance can be killed, but love…it can’t. It lives on, and I’m patient enough to wait for our happily ever after.”
Townsfolk nodded, some sharing looks, others glassy-eyed with their own memories.
But I’d said what I needed to.
I’d done what was expected for a grieving widow to honour her dead lover.
Now, we had something else much more important to do.
Turning to Jacob, I held out my hand. “Ready?”
He hugged the silver urn tighter. “No.”
I kissed his soft hair. “He’ll always love you, Jacob.”
“I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“But we’re not.”
“I don’t want to let him go.”
Bending closer, I whispered, “We’re not letting him go. We’re setting him free. The wind will guide him to visit us; the forest will keep him safe. He’ll be all around us, Wild One.”
His face shone with tears. “But who will I talk to?” He stroked the urn. “At least he’s still here.”
A tear rolled down my cheek. “He’s not in there, Jacob. His spirit is already listening. He hears you when you talk to him, even without his ashes.”
“You sure?” He hiccupped. “Promise?”
I opened my arms.
Jacob launched into them, wedging the urn between us. “I promise. He’s watching us right now, and he’d want us to be brave, okay?”
Pulling back, he wiped his cheeks with his black-suited forearm. “Okay. I’ll be brave. For him.”
Standing, I didn’t look back at the crowd, merely waited for my son to take my hand.
When he did, we moved farther away, deeper into the green-shrouded forest.
Once we found a perfect sun-lit spot, we stopped.
“Ready?”
“’kay.”
Together, with shaking hands and slippery grip, we unscrewed the lid.
Another flute of a breeze found its way through the boughs and leaves to lick around us.
My skin prickled. My heart answered. I felt him near.
I love you, Ren.
As we started to tip, I whispered, “Don’t say farewell, Wild One. Don’t say the words goodbye because it isn’t. If you must say something, say I love you. Because he’ll hear it and know he’s not forgotten.”
“I’ll never forget him,” Jacob vowed.
“Neither will I.”
Together, we tipped the silver jar and let my husband and his father free.
The grey of Ren’s mortal body swirled and clouded, giving wings to his immortal soul, becoming one with the trees and skies he loved so much.
Even though I knew this wasn’t goodbye.
Even though I knew I’d see him again, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done to watch him vanish before us.
The faraway murmur of people leaving hinted we should probably head back, but Jacob stalked toward a tree, holding the Swiss Army knife Ren had given him.
Studiously, firmly, he scratched something into the bark, stabbing and carving.
I let him.
I didn’t try to stop him or interfere.
And once he’d finished and his face was once again wet with tears, I moved closer to see what he’d done.
And just like the father had wounded me, so did the son.
My heart was no longer intact but a lake of mourning.
“Do you like it, Mom?” He sniffed back sadness.
I shook my head as my fingers traced the wonky lines of Ren’s tattoo.
A swirl of ribbon with the initials J and D with an extra kick in its tail with an R.
All three of us.
Always together as the tree grew higher and our family soared closer toward the heavens.
“I don’t like it. I love it.”
A small smile tilted his lips. “Good.”
My eyes shot wide as I spun to study him. The phrase Ren and I had used. The one word that meant so much.
I had to finish it.
To acknowledge that there would always be so much of Ren in this child. That every day he would surprise me, remind me, heal and hurt me.
On a shaky breath, I said, “Fine.”
And together, we walked out of the forest, toward the house Ren and I had built together, and crossed the threshold alone.
Ren wasn’t in the fields, or on the tractor, or in the barn.
He wasn’t in the forest, or baling hay, or dozing in the meadow.
He was gone…gone.
And I had to put one foot in front of the other and accept it.
But I also accepted that this new reality was only temporary.
Life had so many paths and different journeys, but eventually, we all ended up in the same place.
I’d been lucky to share my life with Ren.
I was still lucky to share the rest of it with Jacob.
I wouldn’t give up, even on the blackest of days.
I wouldn’t stop living, even on the saddest of moments.
I would keep trying, learning, surviving, because I owed Ren that.
I owed him my life.
Jacob grabbed my hand, bringing me back from my thoughts and into our living room where we stood.
“You okay?” his innocent voice asked.
I smiled sadly. “Are you?”
“Not yet.” He sniffed. “But we will be…right?”
His dark eyes, so similar to Ren’s, blazed for an answer—a promise of healing.
Ducking to my knee, I hugged him tight, pressing his lanky body into mine, asking for healing for both of us. He kneeled with me, and I kissed his hair, inhaling deep, smelling the scents of my son mixed with the smells of my husband. A familiar wild intoxication that no soap or time could steal.
Hay and hope and happiness.
“We’ll be okay, Wild One. I promise.”
And we would be.
Because there was no expiration on love.
Ren was still mine.
Forever.
*
That night, I went to bed in sheets I hadn’t washed and still smelled of Ren.
I crawled from my side into the middle and grabbed his pillow for mine.
And there, hidden beneath the place where Ren rested his head—glaring up as if impatient for me to find it—was a gift from beyond.
With air trapped in my lungs, I sat up and snatched it from where it had been hiding. My fingers shook as I unwrapped the blue paper, revealing something that made tears explode in a flurry.
A new ribbon wheel.
Full to the brim of cobalt satin, tucked in place with a pin.
The cardboard was pristine and untouched, ready to cut off lengths of ribbon to replace the faded old.
I stroked the wheel, feeling Ren all around me as a note fell from the package.
A note that would break me all over again.
Biting my lip to stem my sobs, I unfolded it and read.
Dear Della Ribbon,
I miss you already.
I miss your voice and touch and kisses.
But please, don’t miss me.
Because I’m right there beside you. I feel your sadness. I hear your tears.
I know it will take time, but eventually, I need you to be happy because I’m always there.
When you cut off a piece of this ribbon, my hand is enveloping yours.
When you replace old with new, my fingers are on yours tying it in your hair.
Everything you do, I’m there with you.
And hopefully, this cardboard wheel will last until you come find me.
And there, I’ll be able to touch you once more.
Until that day.
I love you.
Forever and ever.
For always.
Ren.
EPILOGUE
DELLA
2033
ANNIVERSARIES CAME IN so many different forms.
Happy and hard and horribly sad.
Today was an anniversary.
The day I lost the air in my lungs and the life in my heart.