Chapter Forty-One
Back home, Grace sat in Frank’s study and forced herself to remember how she felt when Frank died and the space he left behind swallowed her whole.
It was only eighteen months ago. Months, not years.
His DNA would still be in this chair. She stroked the arm, her breath catching at the thought of his hands resting on the material.
The fact she’d allowed herself to recover from forty-six years of marriage in the space of a few months made her stomach churn.
As memories of their time together tripped across her mind’s eye, she asked herself whether she’d fabricated their happiness, whether grief made her romanticize their relationship and really, it hadn’t been the best thing about her life at all.
If it had, she wouldn’t be able to confine it to the past so easily, would she?
Frank’s journal sat on the coffee table, black and heavy.
She’d been so busy in recent weeks that she hadn’t picked it up once.
She thought of her copy of Because of Miss Bridgerton sitting at the bottom of her tote bag in the hall and a new wave of self-loathing cascaded through her.
What had she been thinking, buddy reading romance with another man? What would Frank think of that?
She took up the journal and opened the pages.
She would go back to letting Frank recommend her books.
No one else. Her tears made the handwriting blur before her eyes.
She wiped them away and turned over the pages of reviews and the comments on life her thoughtful, considerate, ever-curious husband had written.
The loss of the man who lit up her life flooded her anew and she was glad of the pain.
It signified her love for Frank was real and she hadn’t just dismissed him and everything he meant to her.
The tears flowed freely now, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away.
Eventually she came to the place in the journal where all the words were new to her. The title at the top of the page said, Anxious People, Fredrik Backman. She rubbed the sleeve of her top across her eyes, not caring that she left mascara smears on the pale grey linen and started to read.
This book made me think about what it is to be human, sharing a planet with other flawed people, all just doing their best. It’s warm and funny and it made me laugh out loud so many times.
Gracie actually came running into the study when I barked out a particularly loud laugh.
I think she thought I was shouting for help.
That got me thinking about Gracie.
Her heart flipped in her chest.
The connections made between this seemingly disparate group, taken hostage during a botched bank robbery, is what brought her to mind.
I loved each and every character by the end of the story, partly because they reminded me of all the different people at book club.
We’re a real hotch-potch, but that’s what makes us special.
We were brought together by a love of books, not a failed heist, thank goodness, but like with most people I’ve come across in this lifetime, I find there’s more that connects us than divides us.
We all have people we love, and we’d do anything for, and that love is what motivates most of our actions.
Human connection is everything, in my humble opinion, and I’m afraid Gracie won’t have enough to sustain her if anything ever happens to me.
I wish Gracie had a group like the one I belong to, not because I want to change her, and God knows, I’ve benefitted from our family being the centre of her world, but because I worry that if anything ever happens to me, she might be lonely, like Estelle in Anxious People.
Loneliness is the very worst feeling, and I can’t bear to think of Gracie alone in this big house without me.
I probably sound maudlin. My mortality has started to hang over me, recently.
I wonder if it’s health anxiety. It’s not uncommon in people with ADHD, from what I’ve read.
It’s all tied up with over-thinking and intrusive thoughts.
I’ve been having pains in my chest, but now I’m looking out for them, so I’m not sure what’s normal and what’s in my head.
I haven’t told Gracie because I don’t want to worry her, and I will go to the doctors if I feel I need to …
Grace dropped the book on her lap and covered her eyes with her hand.
Frank had never mentioned chest pains to her.
He’d been more tired than usual, and a little breathless in his last months, but he’d assured her it was simply a sign he was getting older and he felt absolutely fine.
If he’d told her about these pains, could she have insisted he was seen earlier? Could his life have been saved?
When she could bear to, she lifted the journal again.
I might suggest Gracie reads this book. Perhaps that would be a way of showing her how valuable a community can be.
She might recognize the danger of becoming isolated without me having to bring it up.
The last thing I want to do is hurt her feelings.
If these stupid pains are sinister, then I hope she will find happiness and companionship in a future where I might not be there for her.
She’s got so much love to give and deserves so much in return.
The words were like a bolt through Grace’s heart.
Her wonderful Frank had known what she needed all along.
Even when he was worried about his own health, he still thought about her.
He knew she needed company and community to truly enjoy her life, even when she didn’t.
Through his journal he’d led her to find solace in reading and to meet his wonderful book club and be wrapped in their welcoming fold.
But more than that, he thought she had more love to give, and deserved to be loved in return.