Chapter 19
Nineteen
Taylor
Ihaven’t been this exhausted since Greg was in hospice, but I can’t sleep no matter how hard I try to clear my mind and focus on keeping myself healthy for my children, especially the one who isn’t here yet and is still relying on me for everything.
The baby moves restlessly at night, as if he’s aware that his life has been altered irrevocably before he’s even born.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Will falling off that scaffolding, and I try to imagine what he must’ve thought in the seconds before he landed.
I know for sure that my face, the kids’ faces, the baby and our life together were foremost in his mind, as we always were.
As much as I ache for myself and my kids, I’m heartbroken for Will and the baby he wanted so badly and for the special relationship they’ll never get to have now.
We’ll do our best to bring Will to life for the baby, but it won’t be the same as experiencing him as a living, breathing, loving father.
I feel so cheated by his death on behalf of myself and all three of our children, and I’m honestly not sure if I can go on without him by my side.
Having that thought makes me sound like a feeble, helpless woman who can’t survive on her own.
That’s not me at all. I’ve already done this once before, and not only did I survive, but I thrived as a single mother for years before I met Will and took another chance on love.
It’s not that I can’t do it. It’s that I don’t want to do it on my own again.
Single parents are often lauded as heroes, and yes, that title is well deserved, but most of us would rather have a partner to help us raise our kids than be held up as heroes. I don’t want to be a hero. I want to be a wife and a mother and part of a family that includes Will.
How can he be gone forever? It makes no sense to me.
After having now been through both, I’ve decided the sudden tragedy is far worse than the long illness.
At least Greg got the chance to record videos and write letters to the kids to keep him present for them going forward.
He had the opportunity to say goodbye to me and the kids, to say all the things we needed to hear to live without him for the rest of our lives.
Will had no such opportunity before he was ripped from our lives forever.
We had time to prepare for Greg’s death, even if I wouldn’t wish his suffering on anyone. We knew for months that he was dying and planned accordingly to make sure everything was in order for the aftermath.
After we were married, Will and I updated our estate documents to make each other the beneficiary should the worst happen to either of us, but that process in no way prepared me for the reality of his premature death.
I turn on my side, seeking relief from the baby’s nightly soccer match, and come face-to-face with the framed photo of our wedding on my bedside table, illuminated by the nightlight I leave on in case the kids need me now that they’ve returned to their own beds for the first time since Will died.
God, he was so handsome and fun and funny and sexy and all the things.
After having zero interest in men or dating for the years following Greg’s death, I was a goner for him from the first minute we met.
Our wedding day was one of the happiest occasions of my life—and my kids’ lives.
From the minute I introduced them to him, several months after we met, they, too, were in love with him.
When he proposed to me, he also proposed to them, with gifts for each of them and a special, heartfelt promise to always be there for them and to be the best possible stepdad he could be.
We all said yes with no hesitation whatsoever.
My friends and family were thrilled for us, and I embarked on my chapter two with great excitement and anticipation for the future, largely leaving my widow life, which included active participation in the Wild Widows and other groups, in the past, where I thought it belonged.
How na?ve I was.
Since sleep isn’t happening, I decide to get up and take care of some things that are weighing on me and probably keeping me from getting the rest I need so badly.
One of those things is the dreaded task of writing my husband’s obituary.
His family offered to take care of it for me, but I said I wanted to do it with their input.
His mom sent their notes yesterday, and with the services looming this weekend, I need to get it published so people will know when and where.
I take my water bottle and reading glasses with me to the office downstairs, where Will used to do invoicing and paperwork for his business.
I haven’t yet figured out what will become of the business, but there’ll be time to worry about that later.
Bryan, Will’s foreman, told me to reach out when I’m ready to talk about next steps.
That’s on my to-do list, but not in the top ten until after the services are completed.
I trust Bryan and the others to keep things running until I have time to catch my breath.
Everything in this room reminds me of my Will.
From the faint scent of his cologne to the photos of me and the kids on the desk to the sports memorabilia he collected with such relish.
I realize that any time I want to feel close to him, I need only come in here and sit at the desk where he held court, as I liked to say.
With the computer powered up, I open the email from Will’s mother, which includes details from his life that save me the time of confirming the years he graduated from high school and college and started his business. I use the same file his mother sent me and start writing.
William Ellington Lonergan Jr., 38, of Falls Church, died on Friday, November 12, in an accident at work. He was the proud owner of WE Lonergan Construction for the last fifteen years.
He’s survived by his wife, Taylor Cummings-Lonergan, and their children, Eliza Cummings and Miles Cummings, as well as a much-loved and highly anticipated unborn son expected next month.
Will was an incredible husband, father, son, brother, uncle, friend and employer, who was loved by everyone who knew him.
He came into the lives of Taylor and her children several years after her first husband and the children’s father, Greg Cummings, died of brain cancer.
Will took on the role of husband and stepfather as if he’d been born to it, while always being incredibly respectful of Greg’s memory. We loved him deeply.
In addition to his wife and children, Will is also survived by his loving parents and grandparents, two sisters, a brother, four nieces and two nephews.
I insert the family rundown my mother-in-law sent with the correct spellings of names, which saves me from double-checking all that.
Will was a faithful, lifelong fan of all the Washington-area sports teams as well as his beloved Virginia Tech Hokies.
I include his school information as well as the wake and funeral details.
When I’m finished, I send it to his mother for her approval, asking her to send it back to me when she’s happy with it.
It’s not that I don’t trust her, because I do. I have no reason not to, but I’ve learned that grief makes people do things they wouldn’t ordinarily, such as possibly rewrite the obituary their daughter-in-law drafted for their son.
To avoid that, I make it clear in my message that I want to be the one to submit it to the funeral home, along with the photo I’ve chosen to accompany it.
With that dreaded task completed to the best of my ability, I leave the office and go into the kitchen, where I spend the early morning hours cleaning up after the wild influx of friends and family and food over the last few days.
My sisters have been tidying every day, so the kitchen doesn’t really need cleaning, but it brings me comfort to do a “normal” task at a time when nothing else feels normal.
What even is that anymore? And why do I have to keep redefining it for myself and my kids while others have the same husbands and fathers for fifty or sixty years?
I’ll probably spend the rest of my life alone, because who’d want a twice-widowed woman as a partner? Wouldn’t they be worried the whole time about a black cloud hovering over their own head?
Now that’s a morbid thought. But seriously, who’d want to be with me after the last two men I loved ended up dead long before their time?
I start to laugh, and the sound is maniacal as it echoes off the walls of the kitchen Will and I designed together before his workers gutted and fully renovated it to our exacting specs.
Before long, laughter turns to sobs, and I lean over the countertop we chose, remembering the day we spent “deep in the bowels” of the stone emporium, as he’d so eloquently put it.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect. We often disagreed about little things, such as whether the bed needed to be made the minute we got up (me: yes, him: no) or how to load the dishwasher or why every sock he owned was always inside out.
But the rest of it… That was as close to perfect as any two people could get while still being flawed human beings.
I’ll miss him forever.
Iris
“Will’s obituary is online,” I say to Gage when he comes downstairs, fresh from the shower on Friday morning.
He leans in for a good-morning kiss, and I breathe in the unique scent of body wash, shaving cream and cologne that comes with him.
“I sent you a link.”
“Thanks.”
“Taylor did a nice job with it.”
“I can’t imagine her having to do that twice in one lifetime. Once was more than enough for me.”
“Me, too.”
“Have you heard from her today?”
“Just a quick text to let me know she’s still alive and breathing, which is what I most wanted to know.”
“I wish there was something more we could do for her and the kids.”
“As we both know, the most important thing we can do is continue to show up long after the hoopla has died down.”
“Yes, and we will. I talked to Mimi today,” he says of his former mother-in-law, who, along with her husband, Stan, is still close to Gage and now to me and my kids, too. “They’re excited to get here next Tuesday and for Thanksgiving and the wedding.”
“I can’t wait to see them.”
He puts his arms around me. “I know you’re exhausted in every possible way, so let me know what I can do to help. You don’t have to power through what’s supposed to be a happy time for all of us.”
“Thank you for saying that, because I’m all over the place right now, emotionally and physically drained and not sure how I’m going to pull off the next week of houseguests and holidays and a wedding on top of it.”
In one of the strangest developments since becoming widowed, I’m close to Eleanor, the woman my late husband, Mike, had another son named Carter with.
Mike’s deception cut me—and Eleanor, who had no idea we existed—deeply, but the kids and I have come to love Eleanor and Carter, and they’ve become part of our lives and family.
Life is so weird—and beautiful—sometimes.
They’re flying in for the festivities, and Eleanor had wanted to get a hotel because she thought I had enough going on. However, I insisted they stay with us so the kids could have more time together.
“Ask for help, Iris. Ask the Wild Widows to pitch in. They’d do anything for you, and you know it.”
“They have their own families and holidays to tend to. I wouldn’t feel right asking them for help at such a busy time for everyone. I’m still not even sure we’re doing the right thing, having a wedding the same week Taylor buries her second husband.”
“The wedding was planned months before Will died. Taylor knows that, and she loves you, Iris. She wouldn’t want anything to stand in the way of your happiness.”
“No, she wouldn’t, and I know that for certain, but I’m struggling with the timing of it all just the same.”
“I understand, love. And I’m sorry you’re struggling.”
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a lot all at once.”
“Yes, it is, and we’ll get through it together. I’m right here and will do anything I can to make this time easier for you.”
“And you wonder why I love you so much.”
“I don’t wonder.”
I laugh—hard—which makes me feel better right away. He’s magic that way, in how he can always find a way to lift me up when I need it.
“Will you do me a favor?” he asks.
“Anything for you.”
“Will you try to enjoy this time? I know your heart is heavy on Taylor’s behalf, and mine is, too, but you and I deserve this, Iris.
After what we’ve been through and all we’ve tried to do for others in the same boat…
We deserve to celebrate our love and to move into this new life together with joy and true happiness.
I don’t want anything to take away from that for you. ”
“And I don’t want anything—especially me—to take that away for you. No one in this world deserves happily ever after more than you do.”
“More than we do.”
“Right. We all deserve this, and it’s going to be an amazing week of friends, family, holidays and celebration.”
“I don’t want you to fake it until you make it. If your heart is aching, I want you to talk to me. Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise. I don’t have to fake being happy with you, Gage. You know that. And the kids are out of their minds with excitement. I’m going to stay focused on you and them and enjoy the moment. I’ll be okay.”
“I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you and our kids.”
“I can’t wait either.”