Chapter 3
Three
Iris
I’ve been through some rough shit in my life, but this is one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever experienced.
My heart is shattered for Taylor, her children, Will’s parents and everyone who loved him.
I hold her through that long, awful night.
I’m there every time she wakes with a start to remember once again that Will has died, and the life she carefully rebuilt for herself and her children has died with him.
Gage stays, too, sleeping fitfully in the recliner chair next to the bed, there for us if we need him.
It means so much to me that he stays when he certainly doesn’t have to. I try to put myself in Taylor’s position, and I simply can’t let my mind go to a place where I’ve lost him, too.
When we were first widowed and coming to terms with our new realities, Taylor and I were introduced by mutual friends who thought we might take comfort in each other.
They were right. She and I made a pact. We swore to each other that we’d survive our losses, and we’d embrace optimism and hope as we guided our fatherless children through an uncertain future.
We vowed that we didn’t need a man to make us whole, but that we’d embrace and welcome a new love if it came our way.
Those were the central tenets upon which we founded the Wild Widows with Christy.
After Taylor married Will, she chose to move on from her active involvement in the Wild Widows, which I certainly understood.
Dwelling in that place of deep grief, reaching out to others in need of what we had to offer and guiding them through their widow journeys takes courage and fortitude.
Every time we encounter a new widow, we’re forced to relive the worst day of our own lives as we help them navigate their loss.
At times, I think about stepping back from active involvement in the group, as does Gage.
Then we consider the enormous amount of good we’ve done through the Wild Widows, not to mention the found family of fellow travelers who’ve become our closest friends, and we keep showing up for those who need us.
It’s almost like a calling at this point, and Gage feels the same way.
But this… How do I encourage Taylor to retain optimism and hope after tragically losing two husbands?
Where will she find the strength to go on, to rebuild yet another new life from the ashes of a life she loved with a man she adored?
Of course, like so many of us, she’ll have no choice but to go on for the sake of her soon-to-be three children.
And how will I support my other widow friends through the secondary trauma of realizing this terrible thing can happen again? So many of them have moved into new relationships with open and hopeful hearts that’ll be broken by Taylor’s unspeakable loss.
These are the thoughts that keep me awake for most of that long night, holding my sweet friend through the worst grief either of us has ever known.
When the sun comes peeking through the blinds, I’m no closer to answers to my most pressing questions.
A young female doctor comes by on rounds and notes that Taylor’s blood pressure has stabilized. She unhooks the fetal monitor and puts on gloves to remove the IV, jobs normally done by the nurses, but I appreciate that she does them herself to expedite things for Taylor.
“I’ll sign the discharge paperwork for you, but make sure you follow up this week with your OB.”
“She will,” I reply for her.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I say.
The doctor places a business card on the tray next to Taylor’s bed. “If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call. My cell number is on the back.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
She nods and turns to leave the room.
I rub Taylor’s arm. “Tay? She said you can go home. The kids will be looking for you.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
What can I say to that? I wouldn’t want to go home if I were her either.
When she gets there, she’ll confront the fact that the man she made that home with will never come walking through the door again.
She’ll have to tell her children that the daddy who helped to heal their broken hearts is gone forever, like their first dad.
It’s unfathomable.
We lie there for a long time without moving. I’m not sure if she’s asleep or awake until she suddenly gets up, moving slowly but steadily as she goes to the bathroom and shuts the door.
I turn toward Gage.
He reaches a hand out to me.
I curl my fingers around his and keep my gaze fixed on his, drawing strength from him the way I do so often these days.
When the bathroom door opens, I release his hand and sit up to figure out what Taylor needs.
“You guys should get home to your kids,” she says in a dull and flat tone. Her eyes are red, raw and swollen.
She opens the closet door to find her clothes.
“We’ll take you home,” Gage says.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“We know,” he says. “We don’t mind.”
Taylor returns to the bathroom to get dressed.
When she’s done, Gage and I each take a turn in the bathroom before we walk her to the nurse’s station to pick up her discharge paperwork.
They insist on giving her a ride to the exit.
Taylor takes a seat in the wheelchair and looks straight ahead, not seeing the sympathetic looks she receives from various staff members on the way to the main doors. By now, everyone has heard about the expectant mother who’s been widowed for the second time.
My heart is heavy as I walk beside her while Gage goes to get the car.
I can’t help but think of the first day after learning Mike was killed in the plane crash, and how surreal it was to have to deal with people and life things and hungry children as if my whole world hadn’t imploded.
That day, I had no idea how my widow journey would unfold.
Hell, I hadn’t even realized yet that my widowhood would be a “journey.”
All I knew then was that my heart was shattered, my children were devastated, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do without the man I loved with all my heart. I needed him to show me the way through, only he wasn’t there anymore, and I had to find my own way.
This time, Taylor knows what’s ahead for her and her children. She must feel like she’s standing at the base of Mount Everest, looking up at an impossible challenge, trying to once again find a way to the top.
When I offer her the front seat of Gage’s Range Rover, she declines, opting for the back seat as I direct Gage to her home in Falls Church.
For the first time all day, I check my phone and see a text from my mother, expressing heartbreak for Taylor and her kids. Don’t worry about a thing here. I can stay as long as you need me.
My eyes fill with tears as I’m overcome with gratitude for her and my stepdad, who’ve held me up through all the good times and bad. They’re always there for me and my kids—and now Gage, too—and I couldn’t do life without them.
Thank you, I respond to her. Not sure what Taylor needs today, but we’re taking her home now. Will keep you posted.
Give her our love.
I will.
At some point, I have to tell our Wild Widows about this, but I’ll take care of that dreaded task later.
Speak of the devil… I receive a text from my friend Roni, who asks what Gage and I are up to today, as we often spend time together with our kids on the weekends.
I leave the text unanswered for now.
Roni and Derek, two of our Wild Widows, are due to be married in the spring.
We’ve been looking forward to celebrating two people who’ve been to hell and back after losing their spouses, as they step boldly into their chapter two, creating a new family with the children they had with their late spouses.
Gage and I are getting married later this month.
Adrian and Wynter quietly tied the knot back in April and told us afterward when they hosted a party to celebrate.
Life is marching forward for the rest of us as Taylor’s falls apart once again.
Gage reaches across the center console for my hand. His warmth makes me realize how cold I am.
Thinking of Taylor’s sweet kids and the news she’s bringing home to them makes me sick to my stomach. I turn to her and see that she’s staring out the window. “Tay.”
“Yeah?”
“How can we help when we get you home? What do you need?”
“I have to tell the kids.”
“We’ll be with you for that and anything else that has to be done.”
“You should go home to your family. You guys don’t need to go through this with me. You’ve already suffered enough.”
“Unless you tell us to get lost, we’re not going anywhere for as long as you need us.”
“Don’t put yourself through it, Iris. I appreciate you being with me overnight, but you don’t need to walk this path with me again. You two are on your way to happily ever after, and that’s what you should focus on.”
“What would you do? If this had happened to me, what would you do?”
She has no answer for that.
“You’d come running, and you’d stay for as long as I needed you, regardless of how painful it was for you to relive it.”
A sob erupts from her chest. “No one should have to do this twice.”
“You’re absolutely right, but no one should ever have to do it alone. We’re here for you and the kids for the long haul.”
“I want you to promise me…”
“Anything.”
“If it’s too much for you, go home. I’ll understand better than anyone ever could. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
When Gage squeezes my hand, that small show of support is everything to me. I spoke for both of us, but I knew he’d understand. We don’t agree on everything, but in our interactions with other young widows, we’re usually in lockstep.
Several cars are parked outside Taylor’s home.
“Oh God, my sister’s here, too.”
“Do you want me to ask her to give you some space?”
“That’s okay. She wants to help.”
“Remember how this goes, Tay. You say what, how, when, who… You’re the boss.”
She nods and takes a deep breath before she gets out of the car.
Her kids must’ve been watching for her, because they come bursting out of the house in a flurry of arms, legs, light blond hair and freckled faces.
They both look just like their father.
Before disaster struck, Taylor had joked that she hoped there’d be a smidge of her in the new baby.
Her parents stand in the doorway, looking like survivors of the apocalypse, which is how this must feel to them.
“Mommy, is the baby okay?” Eliza asks.
“We’re both doing great,” Taylor replies with forced enthusiasm.
Miles holds up a blue balloon animal. “Look what Grandpa made for me. It’s an elephant. Can you tell?”
“I see it,” Taylor said.
“Grandpa is so silly.” Miles sees us there and smiles. “Are the kids here, too?”
“Not this time, buddy,” I tell him, trying to hold back tears.
“Where’s Daddy?” Eliza asks when she realizes Will isn’t with us.
Taylor puts a hand on each of them, directing them toward the door. “Let’s go inside to have a talk.”
Eliza glances up at her, taking a closer look at her mother and not liking what she sees. “What’s wrong?”
Her concern goes right over Miles’s sweet little head as he charges on ahead of them into the house.
“Mommy,” Eliza says.
“Did you say hi to Auntie Iris and Uncle Gage?” Taylor asks.
“Oh, sorry,” Eliza says with a small smile. “Hi.”
“Hi, honey.” I hug the child I’ve known since she was a baby.
We’ve celebrated every one of her birthdays together and had more playdates than I can count over the years.
They’ve been less frequent since Taylor and Will got married and life marched on for both of us, but Eliza knows I’m one of her mom’s special friends.
Our kids adore one another and are always happy to get together.
Miles is friendly and sweet to Gage and me as he shows Gage his trucks and the race car Daddy got him for his birthday.
Knowing what’s ahead for these precious kids, I’m gutted. Devastated. Wrecked.
I’d give anything to spare them from the pain that’s coming.