When we returned from the beach, Poppy’s bed had been pulled to the window, just like in the hospital. With each hour, she weakened, but, just like Poppy, with each passing minute she was filled with happiness. Her smiles reassuring us all that she was okay.
I was so damn proud of her.
As I stood at the back of the room, I watched as each of her family members kissed her goodbye. I listened, as her sisters and DeeDee told her they would see her again. I stayed strong as her parents held their tears for their girl.
When her mama stepped aside, I saw Poppy’s hand reach out. She was reaching out for me. Inhaling deeply, I forced my leaden feet to push forward to her bed.
She still took my breath away with how beautiful she was. “Hei, Poppymin,” I said and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Hey, baby,” she replied, her voice now barely above a whisper. I brought my hand to hers and pressed a kiss to her mouth.
Poppy smiled and melted my heart. A loud gust of wind blew past the window, whistling against the glass. Poppy inhaled sharply. I turned to see what she was seeing.
A mass of blossom petals went sailing in the wind.
“They’re leaving…,” she said.
I closed my eyes briefly. It was apt that Poppy left the same day that the cherry blossoms lost their petals too.
They were guiding her soul home.
Poppy’s breathing hollowed and I leaned forward, knowing this was it. I pressed my forehead to hers, just one last time. Poppy lifted her soft hand to my hair. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Poppymin.”
As I pulled back, Poppy looked into my eyes and said, “I’ll see you in your dreams.”
Trying to hold back my emotions, I rasped back, “I’ll see you in my dreams.”
Poppy sighed, a peaceful smile gracing her face. Then Poppy closed her eyes, tilting her chin up for her final kiss, her hand squeezing mine.
Lowering myself to her mouth, I pressed the softest, most meaningful kiss to her soft lips. Poppy breathed out through her nose, her sweet scent engulfing me … and she never breathed again.
Reluctantly pulling back, I opened my eyes, now witnessing Poppy in eternal sleep. She was as beautiful now as ever she was in life.
But I couldn’t tear myself away, and I pressed another kiss to her cheek. “One thousand and one,” I whispered aloud. I pressed another, and another. “One thousand and two, one thousand and three, one thousand and four.” Feeling a hand on my arm, I looked up. Mr. Litchfield was shaking his head sadly.
So many emotions rushed around within me that I didn’t know what to do. Poppy’s now-stilled hand remained in mine and I didn’t want to let go. But when I looked down, I knew she had returned home.
“Poppymin,” I whispered and looked out the window at the fallen petals racing by. As I glanced back, I saw her jar of kisses on her shelf, a single blank paper heart and pen lying beside it. I got to my feet, scooped them all up and rushed out onto the porch. As soon as the air hit my face, I fell back against the wall, trying to blink away the tears streaming down my face.
Slumping to the floor, I rested the heart on my knee and wrote:
Opening the jar, I placed the now-complete heart inside and sealed it shut. Then…
I didn’t know what to do. I searched all around me for something to help, but there was nothing. I placed the jar beside me and my arms around my legs, and rocked back and forth.
A creak on the step rang out. When I looked up, my pappa was standing there. I met his eyes. This was all he needed to see that Poppy had gone. My pappa’s eyes immediately filled with water.
I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore, so I released them, full force. I felt arms wrap around me. I tensed, then looked up to see my pappa holding me in his arms.
But this time I needed it.
I needed him.
Giving up the final traces of anger I still harbored, I fell into my pappa’s arms and set free all of my pent-up emotions. And my pappa let me. He stayed with me on that porch as day gave way to night. He held me without uttering a single word.
It was the fourth and final moment that defined my life—losing my girl. And, knowing it, my pappa simply held me.
I was sure that if I’d listened closely to the howling wind rushing by, I would have heard Poppy’s lips break into a wide smile as she danced her way home.
*
Poppy was laid to rest a week later. The service was just as beautiful as she deserved. The church was small, the perfect send-off for a girl that loved her family and friends with all her heart.
After the service, I decided against the wake at Poppy’s parents’ house and came back to my room. Less than two minutes later, a knock sounded on my door and my mamma and pappa walked in.
In my pappa’s hand was a box. I frowned when he laid it on my bed.
“What’s this?” I asked, confused.
My pappa sat down beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. “She asked us to give this to you after her funeral, son. She prepared it quite a while before she passed.”