Chapter 17
seventeen
Rosalie
Our flight lands in Colorado, and my brother Jeremy is there to pick us up at the airport. He sent a text letting me know Carter was staying with our dad for a few months and was packing up some of his things from his apartment to bring to our house.
Jeremy wraps me in a big hug. “I love you, Rosie,” he says, words tight with emotion.
The sound of my family nickname from his lips has me simultaneously aching with grief and sinking into the comfort of home. The easy familiarity is like a sucker punch, reminding me there’s one less person on this earth to call me Rosie.
“Love you, too,” I say, choking back the immense wave of emotion that’s threatening to spill out.
Paige hasn’t really asked many more questions about my mom’s passing, but I know if I break down here, it will cause her to do the same. I just want to get home, where I have the support of my dad and brothers, before that happens.
“Hey, squirt,” Jeremy says to Paige.
“Hey, Uncle J,” Paige responds.
“Are you ready to head to the car?”
“Yep,” Paige says, grabbing her suitcase and rolling it toward the first exit.
“Whoa there,” Jeremy says, latching on to Paige’s backpack and rerouting her toward the correct exit. “We’re parked over here.”
Paige giggles, and I can’t help but let a soft smile cross my face; it’s exactly the sound I need to hear right now.
After getting Paige into the back, I slide into the passenger’s seat and reach for my seat belt.
As I do, my phone dings with a text notification.
I wiggle it free from the confines of my back pocket and look down to see a text from Cameron.
CAMERON
Hey. Did y’all make it okay?
Shit. I promised I would text him when we landed.
Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry! I freaking forgot! Yes, we made it. My brother Jeremy picked us up and we’re headed to my house now. Thanks for checking.
CAMERON
Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you made it safely. Text me if you need anything.
Thanks, I will.
The driver’s side door closes, and my gaze swings to find Jeremy looking at me solemnly.
“You ready to head home?”
My insides tighten at the simple question as reality slams back into me. This isn’t a leisurely trip back home to visit my family. I’m heading home, and my mom won’t be there. My mom is gone, and everything has changed.
I nod. It’s the only thing I can do without sobbing.
***
We pull up to the house, and Jeremy immediately climbs out to help unload our stuff from the trunk, followed by Paige, who is ready to get inside and see everyone.
I, on the other hand, need a moment. The outside of the house looks exactly the same.
I mean, why wouldn’t it? It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here, but it doesn’t feel the same.
There’s an emptiness radiating from our home, and I know it’s coming from what’s inside, or rather, who’s no longer there.
Jeremy looks back at me through the windshield, giving me a small understanding smile and a nod as he guides Paige into the house.
I take another few moments to fortify myself before climbing out of the car and heading inside.
Ignoring the unusual quiet of our family home, I set off to find my dad.
He isn’t on the main floor of the house, so I quietly head up the stairs, where I find him in his bedroom.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed that, up until yesterday, he shared with my mom.
His elbows are on his knees, head in his hands.
He looks older, like the past twenty-four hours have aged him.
His posture looks defeated and undeniably sad.
“Dad,” I say softly, not wanting to startle him.
He lifts his head and turns to face me. “Hey, Rosie.”
I don’t try to stop myself. I let myself break and rush to him.
Dropping to the floor at his feet, I rest my head on his lap and wrap my arms around his waist. My grip on him is tight, and sobs wrack my whole body.
And even though I know he’s in more pain than I am, he comforts me in the way only a parent can.
His hand falls to the top of my head, gently pushing my hair from my face before he continues to stroke the top of my head.
He doesn’t say anything. Neither of us can speak past our grief. We simply exist in the space he shared with my mom, both of us consumed by the fact that she will no longer be here with us.
Eventually, the tears stop, and his hand stills. I unwrap my arms, moving to sit next to him, and look into the eyes of the man who loved my mom so thoroughly, with the only kind of love I could ever want for myself, and he gives me a watery smile.
“Oh, Rosie, what are we going to do without her?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I honestly don’t know. But we’re here together now, and that’s a start,” I say shakily, before wrapping my arms around him again and saying “I love you” into the crook of his neck.
***
The first half of the week is filled with the planning and logistics of Mom’s funeral and the gathering afterward.
If it were up to me, it would be small and just family.
I’m not really up for the socializing and reminiscing part of this process yet, but my dad insists it’s what my mom would have wanted.
My parents have such a great community here, and I know he’s right; their friends would want to come and pay their respects and honor her with those who loved my mom most.
My siblings and I have just finished picking out the songs we want played during the service and finalizing the pictures we want printed in the program when I hear my phone ding in the other room.
I go to grab it and see it’s a message from Cameron on the screen. He, Elodie, and even Kara and Dr. Thatcher have checked in on me this week, and it feels good to have their support.
CAMERON
Hey. Still hanging in there?
His messages are always short and sweet, never prying, like he’s simply just checking in. I appreciate the way he leaves them open for me to dive right into conversation if I need to, but there’s no pressure if I’m not in the mood. Today, though, I need some of Cameron’s wisdom.
Yeah, mostly. My dad would like me to talk at the funeral, but I don’t know if I can make it through without breaking down.
CAMERON
I get it. I spoke at my wife’s service, and it was one of the hardest moments of my life.
Trying to put the enormity of the impact they had on your life into a few paragraphs is nearly impossible.
All while trying to hold it together. I filled mine with funny anecdotes about Julianne and stories that made me smile.
She would have wanted people to remember her that way.
This is the first time Cameron has spoken in any depth about his wife and her death.
He’s given me glimpses here and there, but most of what he’s shared has centered around Addison.
I have so many questions, the main one being how he seems so well-adjusted to a life without her.
I can’t imagine myself ever getting to that point.
But his simple advice has eased my nerves.
That’s soooo helpful. My mom would want the same thing and I have plenty of funny stories that will remind everyone of the exuberant, fun-loving person they all knew.
CAMERON
You can always call me if you need to run it by someone. I’m well-versed in the tone of funerals and know how to infuse just enough humor that others don’t think you’ve lost your mind with grief.
I snort a laugh, impressed Cameron can make me laugh about this topic. The mood around our house this week has been so heavy, it’s nice to have this moment of levity.
Oh, I’ll definitely take you up on that if I need morose jokes!
CAMERON
You’ll soon find out I’m a regular comedian and bad jokes are my specialty. Good night Rosalie. Text or call if you need me.
Honestly, who is this man, and how on earth did he come into my life at the exact moment I needed him?
I head back to the kitchen, where my brothers are still poking through old pictures, and we spend the next hour reminiscing over moments of our childhood, captured forever on film, and it gives me plenty of ideas for how to honor Mom tomorrow.
Later that night, when everyone’s in bed, I sit down to write what I want to say at the service, and my mind is spinning with so many memories.
An overwhelming combination of feelings swirls within me.
Love and appreciation, sorrow and grief, regret, and even anger—a potent mixture that has me staring at the cursor on the screen, not knowing where to begin.
Dropping my face into my hands, I take a deep breath and try to focus, but when I bring my gaze back to my laptop screen, it catches on my phone.
I reach forward, open the screen, and scroll to Cameron’s contact. In a relationship based on distress calls, why not add one more? Hitting the call button before I can second-guess myself, I bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” His voice is groggy, and I realize it’s well past any reasonable time to call.
“Oh shit, Cameron, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even check the time before I called. I’m just trying to write this impossible speech, and you told me I could call if I needed you and—”
“Rosalie,” he cuts me off.
I blow out a breath, embarrassed I not only woke him up but immediately started rambling in his ear.
“Yeah?”
“Hi. I’m glad you called.”
“You are?”
“I am. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”
“Okay.” That single word bleeds out all the relief I feel at his willingness to help.
I hear rustling in the background paired with a gentle creak, and I imagine him sitting up in bed, leaning back against the headboard, and settling in to help me.
The mental image makes my heart feel full, and warmth spreads throughout my body.
“So, what have you written already?”
The rich sound of Cameron’s voice through my speaker brings me back to the reality of our phone call.
“I have nothing,” I say, the words sounding dejected.
“That’s okay. Why don’t you tell me about her, and we’ll see what we can put together?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, fortifying myself for this conversation.
Likely hearing my breath, Cameron continues. “Or not, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Rosalie.”
“No, I want to. I need the help, and I’ve always loved bragging about how amazing my mom is…
was…” The lump in my throat grows bigger, and I swallow it down and push forward.
“My mom never met a stranger. She had the biggest smile and the loudest laugh, the kind that was embarrassing on occasion, making me want to cover her mouth with my hand.”
I hear Cameron quietly chuckle, but he doesn’t interrupt me.
“She immediately made people feel comfortable. Like they’d known her for years.
When I was younger, my friends and I always hung out at our house, and sometimes I wondered whether they shared more with my mom than with their own parents.
She was creative and could turn any mistake into a success.
She has close friends from every time in her life—young, old, and every moment in between—because she valued relationships and friendships immensely. ”
Cameron’s voice is quiet when it comes through the phone. “She sounds like an amazing woman.”
Tears drip silently down my face and catch on my lips that are surprisingly turned upward in a smile. “She really was.”
Now that the dam is broken, stories flow out of me. Cameron helps me organize my thoughts, telling me when I’ve taken my morbid sense of humor a little too far for the general public, and encourages me to throw in bits and pieces of the memories I’ve shared with him tonight.
When we hang up thirty minutes later, I’m both physically and emotionally exhausted, but when my head hits the pillow, a feeling of hope swells in my chest that I might just make it through tomorrow after all.