Must Love Flowers, page 15
Her concentration skills had faltered, which was one reason she’d taken up putting together jigsaw puzzles and working through books and books of Sudoku. They’d been a wonderful distraction. Lately she’d lost interest in both, and she knew why. For the first time in four years she was looking grief in the face and not backing down.
The flood of emotions was overwhelming, but she refused to go back. From now on, with determination, she was looking ahead instead of falling into the trap of memories.
Once again, she felt the sting of anger, felt it grow to monstrous proportions. Joan was furious with Jared for his lackadaisical attitude toward his own health. For a time, she’d blamed herself, thinking she should have insisted he get his annual checkup. She’d reminded him, wanted to make the appointment, but he’d continually made excuses. Twice that she remembered he’d mentioned having headaches, a sign that he’d chosen to ignore, claiming he was too busy to take time away from his practice.
The anger brewed inside her until it felt like a volcano about to explode. For four long years Joan had left everything that had belonged to her husband exactly where it was. His clothes remained in the closet. His personal items, golf clubs, tools…Everything was exactly where he’d left it. In retrospect, she accepted this was her way of holding on to him, as if her need for him was strong enough to bring him back to life. How sad, how ridiculous. How wrong. She’d cheated herself out of four years. Four years in which she could have broken ground to a new life for herself.
Joan wasn’t holding on to Jared any longer. Joan wanted every bit of him gone.
Tossing her pen down on the table beside the journal, she raced into their room with a vengeance. Sensing her urgency, Edison followed behind, barking loudly. Stepping into their shared walk-in closet, she wrapped her arms around Jared’s dress shirts, lifting ten at a time and then tossing them down on the floor. Unable to satisfy her anger, she stomped on them. She continued until every piece of his clothing that had hung in the closet was discarded in a giant pile.
Her shoulders heaved with the exertion. Exhausted, she moved to the king-size bed they’d once shared and sank onto the side of the mattress until her breathing slowed and her heart rate returned to normal. Tears filled her eyes, and she furiously swept them away, angry that she was so weak as to give in to the emotion. Edison sat at her feet, and she lifted him up, holding him beneath her chin, needing his warmth and his comfort. The puppy licked the moisture from her face as if he understood what she needed.
“I have shed my last tear for you, Jared Sample.” There, she’d said it aloud, and she meant it.
Once her anger cooled, Joan’s shoulders sagged, and she felt the need to weep all over again. She’d created a huge mess, one she’d need to deal with sooner or later.
She decided on later.
* * *
—
With Maggie at work, the house felt empty. It had rained for two days straight without a break, and now the sun was out. She’d basically ignored the holiday. Because she was dealing with the raw emotions with the grief group, journaling, and reading through the workbook, she’d done nothing to decorate Jared’s gravesite. With the fury of her anger spent after clearing out his belongings, she felt she needed to visit her husband and get her frustration out. Vent if she needed to, release him once and for all.
Filled with purpose now, she cut a few purple rhododendrons from the bush in the backyard. While there, she tenderly looked over the two azalea bushes she’d recently planted. She’d loved working in her yard again, planting and weeding. Such simple tasks that had brought her back to herself, nurturing her soul.
Once inside the house, she arranged the rhododendrons in a vase and headed to the cemetery.
It’d been a while since her last visit, more than a year. Needless to say, she hadn’t forgotten him. It was hard to equate that the man buried in the ground had been her husband, and visiting the cemetery only confirmed a reality she hadn’t been ready to face.
It took a few minutes for her to locate his gravesite. She noticed a ragged-looking bouquet had been placed at his headstone. Steve. He hadn’t forgotten his father when he’d been in Seattle for the conference.
“Jared,” she whispered. It always felt awkward to be talking to a stone marker. Not that she was expecting a reply. “I am so upset with you. I want to blame you even though I know dying wasn’t your fault. I’m alone now, and I don’t like it. I’d hoped to grow old with you, to travel, spoil our grandchildren, all the things we’d once talked about. We had such wonderful dreams for the future. Now all those plans are as dead as you. I thought we would always be together, but then you had to go and ruin it.”
The sprinklers had run their course, and the sun shone down and glistened off the freshly watered lawn. Joan would rather have had it rain. The bright sunlight was ruining her sour mood.
“You’ve upset everything. Did you even once consider how your death would affect our family? The boys need their father, and where are you?”
Joan lifted her face to the heavens and closed her eyes. She thought about Steve, living in Arizona. Something had happened with Zoe, and he refused to talk about it. And Nick, he was so skeptical and distrusting. That, too, could easily be attributed to her reaction to losing Jared.
She set the vase down at the top of the headstone next to the one Steve had left and stepped back. “This is it, Jared. I’ve come to my senses and I’m letting you go. I can’t hang on to you any longer because it’s killing me. Killing me,” she shouted, her anger echoing through the cemetery.
She wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Shocked at her outburst, she hung her head, stepped back, and whispered, “Good-bye.” And then, because she felt guilty at the rage that had spewed from her lips, she added, “Rest in peace.” That said, with a heavy sigh, she returned to the parking lot.
* * *
—
Twenty-four hours later, Joan was in Dr. O’Brien’s office. The counselor sat in her chair with her legs crossed in front of the sofa where Joan was seated with her hands pressed between her knees. The counselor wore high heels and one shoe had slipped from her heel and was balanced on her toes. Funny how such a little thing as a shoe could be so distracting.
“I’m anxious to hear what you thought of the group now that you’ve attended a couple times,” Lannie O’Brien asked.
Joan would be forever grateful that Dr. O’Brien had suggested she attend at least one meeting before she made her decision. “It’s really helped.”
“I understand you and Mary Lou have become fast friends.”
Joan nodded. “She’s great. Sally, too.”
“Every person in the group has been where you are, Joan. They know exactly what you’re feeling because at one time or another, they’ve been in the same place themselves.”
“I’ve been going through the workbook.”
“Wonderful. Is it helping?”
Joan told the counselor about visiting the cemetery and yelling at Jared and then feeling both guilty and foolish.
“That is understandable and necessary. Not to mention a giant step in the right direction.”
Joan agreed. When she’d returned home, it seemed like a giant weight had been lifted from her heart. The anger had been cleansing. Joan realized this was only the first step and there were many more issues around Jared’s death that she had yet to address. She would, though, in time, and that encouraged her.
“Now that you are coming to terms with the loss, Joan, you can start to look forward to the life ahead of you. There are two ways to consider this.”
“How do you mean?” Joan leaned forward, anxious to understand.
“You can continue to cope as you have been,” Dr. O’Brien said, “but I can see that you’ve already done that to the best of your ability, and it appears it’s no longer working.”
Joan realized Dr. O’Brien was right. Her coping skills, sequestering herself in the house, working jigsaw puzzles, and ignoring anything outside her front door, no longer offered solace.
“The other way may prove to be one of the most difficult aspects of grieving for you to reconcile.”
Joan wasn’t sure she understood.
“From what you’ve said, it feels like you’re ready to move forward and make the best of what you have.”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“And yet there’s the desire to remain connected to Jared.”
That was also true. She couldn’t simply erase the years or forget all that they’d once shared.
“The two go hand in hand, Joan. Back and forth, side by side. Moving forward yet staying connected. Does that make sense?”
Joan still wasn’t entirely sure it did. “Can you give me an example?”
“Of course. Moving forward is attending the group and staying connected is visiting the gravesite. You removed Jared’s clothes from the closet; that was moving forward. Looking through the photo albums was remaining connected. It’s a delicate balance.”
“It is,” Joan agreed. She hadn’t removed Jared’s golf clubs or any of his woodworking equipment, thinking it would be a waste to give it up when one of her sons might want those items later.
“Tell me how you’re feeling right now?” Dr. O’Brien asked.
Joan took a moment to assess her feelings. “Better, I think.” It felt good to tell someone what she’d done and how angry she’d been. “Taking in a boarder was also a step in the right direction.”
“It’s difficult to face being alone,” the counselor said, “especially when you and Jared were together twenty-four/seven.”
That was the crux. If they hadn’t worked together, it might have been just a little easier to accept his passing. The fact that they were always together, nearly attached at the hip, made the adjustment to being single even more difficult.
“There’s a difference between loneliness and aloneness, Joan. As your healing process takes root, you’ll find ways of belonging again, only it won’t be as it once was. I’m grateful you’re continuing with the group. Finding sources that help you grow out of your shell will offer new opportunities.”
Joan could see this was already happening.
“While you and Jared were together, there were times when you were apart, right?”
“Of course.”
“Even when you were alone you weren’t actually lonely because you had a partner. Someone to eat with, share ideas with; someone to help you make decisions. You had a social life together, friends, outings, vacations. You were a couple. Much of the loneliness after the death of a mate is the loss of identity. When it happens abruptly, as it did in your case, it’s only natural to feel disoriented and lost.”
Joan had never thought of this aspect of loneliness, but now that she had, it resonated deeply. Her identity had been shaken. She no longer knew who she was. After being a wife and coworker for all those years, abruptly she was neither.
“I read ahead in the workbook,” she admitted, fearing Dr. O’Brien might frown on her eagerness to move forward. “Is that all right?”
“Of course. Did you have a question?”
Joan nodded. “I noticed it mentioned helping others as beneficial.”
“It amazingly is. The more effort we put into others, the stronger we begin to feel ourselves.”
Joan let her mind soak in those words. Helping Maggie had been huge for her. It was as if her subconscious recognized this was beneficial for her as much as for Maggie.
Dr. O’Brien glanced at her watch and frowned. “Unfortunately, our time is up, but Joan, you’re doing exceptionally well. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you at the next group therapy session.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. Before you go, I’d like to recommend a book I feel you’ll find helpful.”
“Of course.”
“It’s C. S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed.”
Joan was willing to do anything that would free her mind and her heart. “I’ll order it right away.”
Dr. O’Brien led her to the door and Joan left. When she was in the parking lot, she slowly exhaled—so grateful she had taken these steps toward recovery. It was painful and traumatic, but then she remembered all that the butterfly had to endure to break free.
Chapter 21
Maggie finished an eight-hour shift at Starbucks, and while she hated to admit it even to herself, she was disappointed Nick Sample hadn’t stopped by. His loss. She hoped he went hungry. In the days since the movie and the confrontation afterward, her attitude toward him had shifted slightly. He was right to worry about his mother, but at the same time, he should trust Joan’s judgment.
She’d enjoyed his company when they’d attended the movie. They’d shared a large bucket of buttered popcorn and laughed together. Then as soon as he learned her father lived in the area, Nick had become wary of her and openly suspicious. Maggie had a lot to be grateful for, and she was deeply relieved that Joan had countered her son’s doubts with her faith in Maggie.
In the brief time since she’d moved in with Joan, Maggie felt a sense of home that had been missing ever since she’d lost her mother. She knew her presence had helped Joan, too. They’d needed each other.
Maggie intended to do everything she could to show Joan how much she appreciated becoming her boarder. She would rather be on the street than take advantage of Joan. That Nick would even suspect Maggie would use his mother for her own selfish purposes was an insult.
As she headed toward where she’d parked her car, Maggie reached for her phone and skimmed through emails. When she saw the one from Hurst Review, she went stock-still and held her breath.
For a long moment all she could do was stare at the heading. She’d applied for their nursing scholarship, along with several other scholarships and financial aid. Her best hope, she believed, was with Hurst. Their scholarship would be life-changing for her.
When she couldn’t stand not knowing any longer, she opened the email and quickly scanned the contents. She had to read it twice before she believed what was right in front of her.
She’d been awarded the scholarship.
For the next two years her school expenses would be paid as long as she maintained the conditions listed in the email. Overwhelming relief and happiness flooded her heart. Right where she stood, there in the middle of the parking lot, Maggie started laughing, jumping up and down, while pumping her fist into the air in a wild display of triumph.
This news was too good to keep to herself. The first person she thought to tell was Joan, who had encouraged her when the other scholarships had fallen through one by one. But Maggie remembered that Joan had an appointment with Dr. O’Brien that afternoon.
Almost against her better judgment, Maggie felt the need to tell her father. It was unlikely he’d be happy for her, but that didn’t matter. She felt it was important that he know all her hard work had reaped dividends.
It went without saying at this time of day her father wouldn’t be home. Most afternoons were spent at the local watering hole with his drinking buddy, Al.
Sure enough, that was where she found him, sitting at the bar at the Half Pint with his cronies, a beer mug in his hand. The interior of the room was dark, and the scent of beer and cooking grease wafted about the room.
“Maggie?” Roy Herbert spoke first, his greeting full of surprise.
“Hi, Dad.”
He frowned and looked worried. “You okay?” The question was full of concern, although his voice was gruff.
“I’m good,” she assured him. “More than good, actually.”
He turned around on his stool to get a better look at her. His brow had nearly folded in half, as if he couldn’t fathom what had caused her to seek him out.
“This your daughter?” the man on the stool next to her father asked.
This must be his friend, Al, that her father had so often mentioned.
“That’s Maggie,” her father said, as a means of introduction.
“She’s pretty.”
“She takes after her mother.”
“You should be thankful she didn’t take after your sorry puss.” Al laughed, as if he found himself hilarious.
“Shut up, Al.” Her father slid off the stool and led Maggie over to one of the empty tables, of which there were plenty. Business this time of day at the Half Pint was apparently slim.
Maggie took a seat and offered him a weak smile.
“What’s going on?” her father asked a second time. His look told her he was conflicted, still angry that she’d left him and at the same time concerned, but unwilling to show it.
She shrugged. “Nothing much.”
“You doing okay with that widow lady?” His eyes darkened, as if convinced she’d made a terrible mistake by leaving him.
“It’s working out.”
He accepted her words with a tight nod, but his look said he wasn’t sure he believed her.
“How about you?” she asked.
He glanced down at the floor. “Gotta say, it’s a bit lonely without you traipsing in and out of the house at all hours of the day and night.”
Wow. That he’d be willing to admit he missed her was huge, especially after the way he’d acted when she’d moved out. It sounded like a concession on his part, his way of saying how badly he regretted his actions. This was big. Double wow.
