Chapter 6 - Andie
Chapter Six - Andie
Moving forward with life seemed like the logical next step.
The temp job at a local hospital has become my new obsession.
I’ve been throwing myself into work as a way of coping.
Hoping that getting back into the hustle might return my life to some semblance of normal.
An escape from the thoughts that overwhelm me on a daily basis.
Spoiler alert: it hasn’t worked.
Don’t get me wrong, the paychecks have been amazing with all the overtime I pull, but my happiness has filed a missing person’s report with no leads so far on where it went.
Memories of laughing at work and socializing feel like they belong to someone else.
Those stories with friends where we’d bond over the oddly humorous traumas of nursing.
Gone. The once cheery demeanor has been replaced with an I-don’t-give-a-shit-attitude.
My expression screams less come-talk-to-me and more approach-at-your-own-risk.
A carefully designed deterrent to keep people from getting too close.
Can’t lose anyone else if no one gets in, right?
Smiles become less frequent and fade more each day.
There’s no more happy-go-lucky Andie. She disappeared the minute her husband died, but I do miss her.
I miss dancing around the kitchen, singing in the car, or in the shower.
I would give anything to keep making those weird, goofy faces at Cody.
The ones that would make him laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe.
Or the random times I’d pull him into my embrace, swaying to silence in the kitchen.
The music stopped, and those goofy faces got replaced with an expressionless mask that gives a whole new meaning to RBF.
Cody wasn’t the only death that day. When he died, he took every ounce of joy I had with him.
A piece of me is forever missing. Uncertainty clouds whether it’ll ever return.
Work was supposed to be a distraction from loss.
Sometimes it works, but other times, pity parties for one become the evening entertainment.
Wine, take-out, and television have become my new holy trinity.
I’m like Wednesday Addams at a rainbow festival, unsure if I’ll ever get my life back.
Sometimes, I wonder if I really want it back. What kind of existence awaits without the love of my life? Is that even worth pursuing?
Charlie comes over each night when he’s off and stays with me.
Socializing, talking with people, and even leaving the house has zero appeal.
He doesn’t push though, which makes his presence bearable.
His embrace and tenderness toward my feelings give me a slight sense of comfort, preventing me from completely losing every ounce of my soul to this darkness.
Shocking, I know. How does someone keep moving forward with a crushed heart?
Empty and broken don’t begin to cover it.
Repair seems impossible. On really bad days, cleaning becomes an obsession.
Scrubbing until every surface gleams, and my hands turn raw, just to feel something other than heartbreak’s constant ache.
Charlie never witnesses this though. That pain is reserved for when I’m alone.
No matter the effort, no matter the strategy, loneliness and despair cling to me. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever be whole again or if I’m destined to be heartbroken and miserable.
Charlie’s eyes carry pity most days. It’s a look I’ve become all too familiar with. I’m sure it’s hard to watch your friend drown in her own misery. Almost like he has some sort of guilt wrapped up in what happened to Cody.
Knowing Cody, he probably made Charlie promise he would always look after me if something ever happened.
Classic Cody—always with the contingency plans.
Countless nights, Charlie sits on the couch, letting me lay my head on him as I watch my shows and drink my wine.
Never letting me go until I fall asleep.
He’s tried to call Maddie on a few occasions, but I refuse to let him.
The last thing I need is for Maddie to uproot her life for me.
It’s just another night of Charlie holding me until I finally let my thoughts loose and allow myself to sleep.
His shifting and hesitation signal something wrong like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to drop whatever bomb he’s been carrying.
I continue to stare, zoned out at the television, when his courage finally strikes.
His steady breath beneath my head quickens, nerves evident in every exhale.
Whatever he’s holding back wages war inside him—the struggle between speaking the truth and risking further damage plays out in real-time—with me as the unwilling audience.
Silence finally breaks when Charlie takes the leap.
“Andie, I know I told you that I would let you grieve however you need, but this is killing me.” His fingers pause mid-stroke through my hair. Another deep breath tightens my chest in anticipation. “Watching you lose yourself each day, watching nightly tears—it hurts. Cody would hate this.”
Motionless doesn’t begin to describe my frozen state. Eyes glued to the television, a single tear threatens escape. Don’t you dare! One tear means floodgates and strength for that kind of breakdown doesn’t exist right now.
“You had dreams and plans. He loved seeing you happy and working to achieve all that you wanted out of life.” He’s right, I did, but I gave those up instantaneously when Cody died. I’m trying to pace my breathing, so I don’t give my emotions away.
“Instead, you’re sinking yourself into misery.
I want to help, I just don’t know how. I barely recognize you anymore.
That day was hard for all of us. I’m not downplaying it, but I lost my best friend, my brother.
I can’t lose you too. I miss your smiles, jokes, and your energy.
I just want you to get that back. I love you, Andie. I just don’t know how I can help you.”
No response leaves me. In fact, I close my eyes to pretend I’ve fallen asleep. I feel his eyes upon me as I continue to lay there, still and silent. Hoping he’ll finally leave for a moment like he does when I fall asleep other nights.
Charlie slides out from under my head, carefully transferring it to a pillow. The couch blanket gets pulled over me, tucked in like a child being put to bed. The silence stretches as footsteps move toward the door.
“I hope you come back to us, Andie. You have no idea how much you’re needed.” His final plea hits both ears and heart before the click of the door.
As the door shuts, putting a barrier between Charlie and myself, the barges on my emotions break.
Starting as a small stream, one drop at a time, until tears streak makeup and soak the pillow beneath.
The buildup of every word that Charlie said digging into me till I cave, allowing my body to shake from the effort to contain what can’t be contained.
My knees pulling up to my chest in a protective curl.
The final emotional stone hits the wall, the dam finally breaks, and every held-back thought, emotion, and tear comes pouring out.
Clenching into a tight ball, pressure might provide the comfort of a much-needed hug.
Vision blurs, but that does little to phase the breakdown in progress.
Tears continue as my breathing picks up, and pain around the eyes and mouth kicks in, but nothing stops this full-scale emotional collapse.
Chest pressure makes catching my breath nearly impossible, hyperventilation taking over.
But even through the tears and the gasping breaths, I can hear my mother’s voice in my head, as a familiar timer starts to click.
One minute, Andie, that’s all you get before you have to shut the emotions off.
Sixty seconds of emotional expression, that was the childhood allowance. After that, all those emotions were to be compressed. According to my mother, they’re a sign of weakness and defeat. Mother’s voice repeats even now.
No one wants an emotional trainwreck. Your feelings must be in check at all times. If you need to break down, cry, show anger, anything that would be considered unladylike, then you must do so in private. One minute, then collect yourself and go back as if nothing hurt you.
Thanks for the therapy bills, Mom.
It’s not right, or normal, but that doesn’t matter.
I’ve been conditioned to be a compliant and numb woman.
Happiness is the only acceptable response in this family.
I allowed myself to cry a lot when I first found out, but it’s still a bit of an awkward feeling for me.
So even though my sadness comes and goes frequently, I just have to try to work on containing my feelings, else I won’t be able to control this emotional break, and I will never hear the end of it from my mother.
Maybe someday I’ll say fuck everything and just allow the years tears I’ve suppressed let slip and see how that feels. But for now, I remain curled into a ball. Eventually, the tears stop, my eyes glaze over, void of any emotion.
The silence in the house is deafening. Even with the television on, the words are mute in my mind.
My depression is sinking to new depths and dragging me down as its victim, and the only escape route my scrambled and emotional mind can come up with involves sorting through the chaos of my thoughts.
A daunting and terrifying task, but somewhere in the whirlwind coursing through my mind Charlie’s words won’t leave me alone.
“I can’t lose you too.”
They replay in the silence as the veil begins to lift allowing me to work through fog. I lie there emotionally drained, but unable to sleep as everything Charlie said begins to hit me differently. He’s afraid of losing me the way I lost Cody.
Slowly, I begin to piece the jumbled fragments together, not because I’m ready to face them but because they won’t stop haunting me.
I need to change my ways, or he’ll face another tragic loss.
Fear creeps in as I consider accepting this new path.
But I’m not one to back down from a challenge, from a struggle.
That’s exactly what I’ve been doing—putting my life on hold.
Honestly, zero effort has gone toward reclaiming any semblance of myself after Cody’s death. I’m not sure if it’s due to fear of the unknown or if it’s because I was so young when we married that I don’t truly know who I am without him.
Flashes of my dreams come into my mind as I take a mental inventory. Oh, right, those things. Motherhood topped the list, despite Cody showing zero interest in kids. The dream of nursing? Gone. It was more a dream of leaving, to expand and begin working with others on personal health and nutrition.
My desire to help people is still there, but I want the flexibility to be with my family, which I don’t get with my current job.
I thought my dreams were gone, but it wasn’t until Charlie released his fears for me that I realized my dreams are still there.
Those desires haven’t disappeared; they’ve just been buried under grief and anxiety.
The fear of creating new dreams without him has me hesitating, especially when it comes to starting a family.
I couldn’t imagine raising children with anyone other than Cody.
Maybe that particular one needs permanent retirement.
New passions or old passions—either way, I owe it to myself to figure out my new vision and go for it.
Cody wouldn’t want me to live secluded and depressed.
He wouldn’t want me to give up the future, I imagine; instead, he would want me to be happy and find a way to love again.
But how? How do I take that step? Charlie’s been great, but I can’t ask him for help with this.
He’s hurting, he’s still healing and finding his own way without his best friend by his side.
I need to do this without Charlie —solo mission style. Because in the end, he’s right, it’s time to reinvent Andie and figure out who I am now, without Cody. Otherwise, this pit of misery keeps getting deeper until recognition becomes impossible.
But how? How do I begin to rebuild a life I don’t remember how to live?