He turned his head and looked in the living room for a moment, then turned back to me, expressionless. I had no idea what was going on in his head.
“But then she’ll be gone.” This came from Ruby, and it was everything I’d hoped to avoid.
“Sweetie, she’ll never be gone, not all the way. We still think about her and remember her, and celebrate her birthday, and we always will. And if you guys really want the pictures to stay up, we can leave them. It was just a thought.”
“Do you think they bother Grace?”
Ruby voiced the very thought that prompted the whole discussion. The last thing I wanted was the kids to think Grace had anything to do with it. I in no way wanted them to associate the two ideas. So I shook my head.
“No. I don’t think it bothers her at all.”
That was the truth.
But it bothered me.
I loved Olivia and had she lived I was sure we would still be married and happy. But she didn’t. And the strangest part about being a widower was moving on and dating someone else when I never really fell out of love with my wife. In the beginning it felt a little bit wrong. But the thing about grieving is everything feels wrong, until it doesn’t. The only way to get past it is to keep moving forward.
I was sure Grace would never ask me to take down photos of Olivia, but that’s one of the things I loved about her. I wouldn’t want to be with someone who would storm in and expect my kids and me to erase Olivia from our lives. Besides being unreasonable, it was impossible. But even though Grace would never ask it of me, it didn’t mean it shouldn’t happen.
“Listen, guys, there are plenty of ways to keep your mother around. We can talk about her, talk about our memories, tell Grace all about her. I know Grace would love to hear about your mother and how wonderful she was.” The best part about that statement was that I knew it was true. Grace would feel honored if the children shared their stories of Olivia with her. “What if you each choose a photo from the living room and you can keep it in your bedroom. That way, we aren’t taking them down, but just moving them.”
“We can pick any one we want?” Jaxy asked, perking up.
“Yeah, bud. Any one you want.”
He got up from his chair and ran into the living room. “I want the one where I’m just a baby and Mom is looking at me and she’s all sweaty.” He stepped up on to the edge of the fireplace and grabbed the photo off the mantel. “This one’s my favorite because Mommy always said it was the moment she fell in love with me.”
He didn’t even have to show me the photo for me to know which one he was talking about. I’d taken the photo about two minutes after he’d been born and Olivia had refused to hand him over to the nurses. She just kept touching his chubby cheeks and saying, “He’s so beautiful,” over and over again. When the nurses finally convinced her to let them measure and weigh him, she’d just stared at him from across the room.
I shook the memory away, trying not to get too caught up in the past. My kids needed me present in that moment. Jaxy ran down the hall with his photo and I assumed he was going to find the perfect spot for it in his room.
“Ruby, is this plan all right with you?” She was nibbling on her lower lip. “Come here,” I said, crooking a finger at her. She stood up slowly and made her way toward me. When she was close enough, I grabbed her and hauled her into my lap, pulling her shoulder into my chest and wrapping both my arms around her. “Talk to me, Rubster.”
She took in a deep breath, her shoulders tightening, but then she exhaled, all the tension leaving with her breath. “I used to sit on the couch, when we first moved here, and just look at all the pictures of Mommy. In the beginning, it kind of made me sad, you know? But then, after a while, I liked seeing her there and remembering all the times we took the photos. But now that we’re talking about taking them down, I just….”
“It’s okay, Ruby. Whatever you’re feeling is totally okay. And whatever you’re afraid to say, you don’t have to be. You can’t say anything wrong in this situation.”
Her eyes lifted to meet mine and I gave her a squeeze, and then, finally, she spoke.