39. Emily
Emily
Two Weeks Later
“ H i Mom,” I say into my phone.
The other end is silent until she speaks up. “Honey, it’s Gloria. She’s in the hospital.”
Tears instantly flood my eyes. For so long I thought that after James the people in my life were invincible.
“Is she okay?”
“No. Honey she didn’t want me to tell you, but she has cancer and it’s terminal. She doesn’t have long.”
I hold my hand over my mouth as I try to hold back a sob. It doesn’t work. I’m going to lose the final piece of my childhood.
“Where are you at?” I ask, breathing through the emotions.
“In New York. At Rutherford Hospital.”
Sitting on my couch I feel numb. Like I’m so numb to losing people but it still hurts.
I run my hand through my hair, stopping when I remember it’s in a braid. “Okay, I can try to be there tonight. I just need to pack and book a flight.”
“I can do that. You pack and I’ll send you your flight information.”
I blow out a relieved breath. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome, honey. I’ll see you soon.”
I stare at nothing on my wall as I come to terms with another loss. Picking up my phone I find Jax’s number and send her a text. Jax and I live in the same apartment complex but at different ends.
Me: Hey can I ask for a favor?
Jax: Sure, what’s up?
Me: I have to go to New York. I’m not sure for how long. Will you watch Biscuit for me? She just needs food twice a day and clean water.
Jax: Of course. I’ll head over now to get your key.
Me: Thank you.
I get moving and pack my suitcases. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there, so I pack for two weeks just to be careful. I’m putting my toiletries in my suitcase when I hear a knock on my door.
Checking the peephole I see it’s Jax and let her in.
“Is everything okay?” She asks when I close the door.
Shaking my head, I walk towards the bowl with my keys and fish out my spare apartment key. “No. Gloria is sick. She’s been sick. And she hid it from me.”
The anger I feel at being the last to know pours out as the tears fall down my face. Jax rushes towards me and holds me as I break down. It’s selfish to be angry over someone not telling you they were dying.
“Please don’t tell Kamryn,” I say through my tears.
Jax’s hands stop moving on my back and she pulls away. “I won’t lie to my sister if she asks if I’ve seen you.”
I nod my head because that’s fair.
Jax leaves and shortly after my phone dings with a message from my mom with my ticket confirmation and a notice that a car is here to pick me up.
I heft my suitcases downstairs and then I’m off to the airport with no idea what’s to greet me when I arrive.
The flight into New York was uneventful. But I was antsy the entire time. I have no clue what to expect. And the hurt and anger over losing another person I love, I can’t mask that.
When we deboard the plane, I follow the line right to the luggage carousel. While waiting I turn my phone back on and a message from Adam is waiting.
Adam: Hi sunshine.
Adam: Any plans this weekend?
Me: Hi baby.
Me: I can’t this weekend. I’m in New York.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call from Adam.
“Hi,” I answer.
“What’s wrong?” I hear the concern in his voice.
I step away from the crowd but still keep an eye on the luggage carousel. “It’s Gloria. My mom told me she has cancer and it’s terminal. She’s in the hospital. And I,” my voice squeaks out. “And I don’t know how to say goodbye to my childhood. To the last person who saw me when all I wanted was to be seen.”
The truth is she’s my last honest connection to James. She was there as we grew up and fell in love. Gloria was there for every milestone and she was equally devastated when he passed away. He was another grandchild to her and I could never try to understand the beautiful bond they had.
“Do you want me to fly out there?” Adam asks. And it’s sweet of him to ask.
“No, baby. You don’t have to. Being back here is hard enough for me. Plus I don’t want this to be the first time you’re meeting my family.”
“Okay. Well, I can be on a flight whenever you need me.”
“Thank you, baby.” The signal for the luggage dropping sounds. “I have to get my luggage, but I’ll talk to you later. I love you, Adam.”
“I love you too, sunshine.”
I hang up and collect my bags. My mom must have had a car called for me here because there was one waiting for me at the curb.
“Thank you.”
Walking through the hospital's sliding glass doors, I head for the reception desk to get Gloria’s room number, when my name is called out. Turning to the side, I see my dad by the elevator bay.
I rush over to him and fall into his embrace. Tears prickle the back of my throat, making it hard for me to swallow.
“Hi, pumpkin.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
He pulls back and presses the button to take us up on the elevator. My dad holds onto me as we enter the open car.
I have no clue what to expect. Gloria has been my grandmother in all the ways that counted since I was a kid. The bond we have. The love she so freely gave me.
When we get up to the sixth floor and turn to the left, I see my mom pacing in the hallway. My hands start sweating because I’ve never seen my mom act this way.
“Emily,” my mom greets me with a hug.
“Hi, Mom.”
“She’s in there.”
I look at the door nervously. But my mom wraps her arms around my shoulders. Resting her chin on top of my head.
“It’s okay to be scared, honey. It’s okay to be sad and angry.”
With a deep breath, I pull myself from my mom’s embrace and push through the door. And what I see breaks me down.
Gloria is lying in a hospital bed that’s three times too big. Her body frail and pale as she stares out the window. When the door shuts, her attention shifts to me.
“Come here, my sweet girl.”
I go to her instantly and climb onto the bed next to her. Settling into the bed, I wrap my arms around her waist and she runs her hands down my hair.
“Don’t cry.”
“You can’t leave me. I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.” I cry out.
“One of my greatest blessings in life was helping to raise you. I got to watch you grow up into a beautiful majestic bird. I got to watch you perform your heart out to a packed auditorium. I got to watch you fall in love.”
My childhood plays behind my tear-filled eyes. Every big moment, Gloria was there. When she goes, the best parts of that time in my life will only be alive because of me.
“Tell me about your life in Cincinnati.”
“I started dating someone,” I tell her.
“What’s he like?”
“Kind. Patient. He has a little boy who’s going into the second grade. He loves me.”
“What’s not to love about you?” She pokes as she continues to run her hands through my hair. “What’s his name? The both of them.”
“His name is Adam. And he’s thirty-eight. His son’s name is Dylan and he’s…they’re both amazing.”
I talk with her about how we met and how he never gave up on me when I was determined to keep him as a friend. I talk to her about how hard it was to love again but that Adam made it incredibly easy.
“Emily,” her breathing has become more labored. “I want you to promise me something.”
I swallow hard as the tears continue to fall. “What is it?”
“I want you to play again.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I admit. While I’ve long thought of picking my violin up again, I have no clue if the years of training I did are useful.
“You can,” Gloria weakly argues back. Her breath rattles out of her and it’s now that I realize she’s sicker than my mom let on. “Play something easy and go from there. It’s my final wish. I wish for you to play again.”
I sit in the pew between my parents as the priest talks about life and living it to its fullest. Gloria passed away in her sleep a few days after I got to the hospital. She was surrounded by her family and mine. Well, I guess you could say we were all family.
In the days since she passed, I contacted Amelia and asked if she would help me learn Ave Maria on the violin. It was the quickest I had learned to play a piece of music through the tears that never stopped.
I have a speech prepared and when the priest gives me a nod, both of my parents squeeze my hands before I scoot out of the row and up to the podium.
Unfolding the speech, I look out into the crowd. I look at Gloria’s family broken as they come to terms with the fact they lost a vital piece of their family.
Movement from the back of the church draws my attention and I see Adam looking every bit the man I fell in love with. Showing up when I didn’t ask him to. Sending me his strength when I need it most.
“When I think of my childhood, I can’t remember a time when that didn’t include Gloria. My first day of school, every year, she would hand me toast and a piece of bacon. It was such a simple meal. But she knew my nerves of starting something new got to me. So she gave me comfort in whatever form she could.” I close my eyes as I remember the painful moments. “Gloria was by my side for every moment. When my parents and I didn’t see eye-to-eye, she gave me her strength. She was there when I fell in love. She was there when I graduated and when I performed in front of a packed auditorium. She was there when I suffered a loss.”
I look back at my violin and bow sitting on a stand, waiting to be picked up. To let the music flow through the room with hopes that the notes will heal just a little.
“Before she passed, she told me her final wish was for me to play again. To be honest I haven’t picked up my violin since I was eighteen as I put that part of my life behind me. But I could never say no to Gloria. So that’s what I’m going to do for her. Play,” I can’t stop my voice from trembling or cracking as the tears that formed flow freely down my cheeks. “And I’m gonna say goodbye to one of my favorite people and my favorite part of my childhood.”
Taking a breath, I walk over to my violin and I take center stage. Placing my violin on my shoulder and the bow in the ready position I take several deep breaths before I close my eyes and play.
I had long thought that when I stopped playing that my memorization skills would disappear with it. But that’s not the case. Behind my closed eyes, I see every note. The crescendo, the decrescendo. The vibrato and trills. The runs and the long notes. I picture Gloria sitting and watching as I practice my piece for my recital. I see the smile and tears as I finish my piece flawlessly.
And when I finish this piece, there's nothing. No crowd cheering. No Gloria telling me I played beautifully. Just the sound of sniffles from the tears her family shed.
When the last note fades away, I open my eyes and place my violin back on the stand. Without another word or glance at the others, I clutch my speech and sit back between my parents.
More words are spoken about love and loss. The potential to make this loss mean something more than it being a loss.
The funeral ends with only immediate family allowed to head to the burial site. It hurt when my parents told me, but in the end, seeing the end to my childhood as Gloria is lowered into the ground may make me unrepairable.
We’re walking out of the church when I spot Adam standing off to the side and I rush to him. Flinging my arms around his neck as the tears come.
His hand cradles my head with his other arm wrapping around my waist, holding me to him, and piecing me together. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.” I cry.
“Where you go, I go,” Adam pulls back and looks me over. “I won’t let you face the hard times on your own. You’ve got me.”
Nodding my head, I wrap my arms around his waist. Nuzzling into his chest as I reality that he showed up when I needed him makes the love I have for him soar to the skies.
“Emily?” I hear behind me.
My body freezes as I remember my parents. Pulling back from Adam, I look up at him. “Ready to meet my parents?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” Adam places a kiss to the tip of my nose before I turn around and face my parents.
“Mom? Dad? I’d like you to meet Adam.”