I know more clearly than ever that I’ve grieved not just for the loss of Jake and the history that we shared…I’ve been grieving for the loss of myself too. I was no longer a wife, no longer one of a pair—who the hell was I?
When Jake died, I think I lost a major part of my own identity right along with him. His heart stopped only for a while before it was forced to beat again in its new home. Zander’s chest. That heart that I had drifted off to the unremitting thrum of so many times was going to beat on. It was meant to thrive. It had so many more beats left in it and yet…my own heart seemed to seize. It locked down like a petrified artifact from some long lost chapter in time when I was happy and my heart was full. My own heart, at least figuratively, had become static within me. It was lost without Jake. All of me was lost without Jake. I had become my very own Atlantis.
I miss him.
I miss me too.
I miss Zander most.
***
May 10, 2013
Talking to the real estate agent was far more difficult than I had anticipated. I can’t sell the house. I don’t know what in the hell I was thinking.
Once I’ve pulled my car into the driveway and put it in park, my head falls forward to rest against the steering wheel. The last couple weeks’ events have pushed me to the pinnacle of my breaking point. I seal my eyes tightly shut and fight against the tingling sensation in my nose that tells me tears are forming. I fight hard and try to play Jake’s words in my head. I know which ones I’m searching for. I’ve played them back to myself more times than I could possibly count. I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter and grip the steering wheel as if holding on for dear life. I wait to hear his voice. I wait to hear the words from my first love as a monsoon of emotion is dangerously close to ripping through my resolve to be strong. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. I have to hear those words he used to say to me. Please, I beg inwardly. Tell me to be strong.
“Read the letter, Sadie. It’s time.”
Words come, but they aren’t the ones I know. They aren’t Jake’s words. They’re Zander’s words. The weight of exactly how much I’ve missed him bears down on me and in one gasping cry outward, all strength abandons me. My head lifts of its own volition, directing my blurred vision skyward, eerily similar to the day Zander found me in the water, and for me, it’s like Jake has died all over again. Except I know I’m crying for the loss of both men. I’m crying for the loss of myself, for the loss of my will to live life, my will to be happy. I’m crying because I know Zander is right. It’s time to read Jake’s letter. I can’t avoid it anymore.
My sobbing reverberates throughout my car. My diaphragm cramps painfully, but the aching does nothing to slow my tears. I cry harder and harder until sheer exhaustion has won the battle I just waged with myself. My red, puffy eyes become an inconvenience to keep open. Somehow I grip the handle of the door just enough to unlatch it, swinging it open, giving me an exit. I clamber out of the driver’s seat, dragging my purse with me. Thank God the walk to my front door is a short trip, because my meltdown has thoroughly exhausted my body.
I collapse on the couch on my left side, facing my purse, which is on the coffee table near the window. I watch the purse numbly. I guess some dormant part of my conscience is urging me to reach inside the pocket and get out the worn envelope with Jake’s handwriting on the front. I know I need to, but I’m scared. I’m so damn scared. Reading his letter makes things so…final.
Be strong, Sadie. I recite to myself the words that Jake told me so many times.
It’s time, Sadie.
I add Zander’s words, because they too have meant so much to me. He’s so much of the reason why I want to imagine my future in a positive light. He’s given me so much more than I’ve given him. Looking back on the awful way I acted when we first met gives me the incentive to make the final push towards closure. I leap forward off the bed and snag my purse. Without thought, I pull the letter from the side pocket that it has sat in for so long and slip my index finger beneath the flap. I slide my finger along the seam of the envelope, breaking the adhesive seal as I go. With one deep breath, I brace myself for a second goodbye. A final farewell.
Sadie,
Most would think that writing this letter is morbid and it may be. But not writing it is something I can’t do.
If your beautiful eyes ever meet this page, it’s because something has happened to me. I hope that life has something better in store for us, but things happen in my line of work, so there are things that I must make sure you know. I could never have the right words to tell you what you mean to me, but I’ll try.