End of a Beginning

The ache moved slowly from the pit of my stomach into the rest of my tired body as an icy burn rushed from my toes to the top of my head.

I tried in vain to hold it in while the sweat began to run rapidly from my pores, soaking my hair to my head.

The children were sitting in the back seat, quietly, longingly, staring out the windows of the truck.

As I am sure they are each lost in a bittersweet memory of him the ache in my heart spasms, reminding me of it's iron grip.

Thinking of the last time we made the journey over this mountain pass I am saddend that it will never again be the exciting carefree trip that they had always loved. No more fishing, camping and bonfires to sit by while telling korny stories that none of us could get enough of, I feel the tears threaten to start up again and choke them back.

No,it is forever lost to us, to all of us.

My mother has been a rock through all of it, I think to myself worrying about her. I know it's going to get worse before the day's over and I can't help but feel guilty about depending so much on her, I'm 36 years old for Christ sake.

Looking over at my mom I see what I want to be to my kids, she’s so strong, seeming unaffected, God it's so unfair, I wasn't supposed to be here!

This is not what we had planned, I whisper through choked sobs, again trying so desperately to hold on, to just make it through the next six to eight hours and then the worst part of it will be over.

Suddenly the muscles in my throat start to tighten and I know it's coming, I can't hold it back. " MOM, Pull over! Please hurry! I beg while my stomach begins to bully it's way into my throat.

God! I curse at myself as I dry heave the last of the sour bile that had been eating away at my stomach for the past six days, I didn't want to do this. Not in front of the kids, they've been through so much, seeing their mother fall apart can't possibly be helping them.

I rest my head against the cold dirty steel of the truck bed and find the coolness comforting. Looking down at the tire, I think for a moment about that summer when we were driving across the old river road. He had looked back just in time to keep our beloved dog Boz from falling out of the back of that old Ford pick up truck. Tears start to well up again, "fuck" I say a little to loud through my teeth". Even a tire provokes a memory, how is it that anyone can ever expect anyone to move on from something like this?". Mom yells out the window asking if I'm okay, “yeah mom, I think I'm alright now” I holler back and start making my way back up to my seat. I walk past the kids and see the concern in their innocent eyes, after climbing into the truck I pivot around to face them taking my daughters hand in mine and placing my other hand on my sons knee I try to reassure them that I am alright. "Just a little car sick" I lie.

Okay? mom asked as she handed me the wet wipes and a few paper towels "I don't know, I guess" was the only reply I could offer while I dug around in my purse for a piece of gum. Saying much more would be risking the little bit of control I was still able to hold on to. Being strong was getting old and quickly wearing thin and I felt as though I was coming up on the end of my control rations.

Finally, we pulled into the parking lot of the church. I looked around at all the people, the family, his family. Some of these people I hadn't seen in years I thought as I reminded myself of the last time we were all together.

The kids jumped out of the truck first with my mom quickly chasing after them. It's been a long drive and I know they need a distraction from their grief. They'll find their cousins, it's a big family and I know the kids will be looked after. The mother in me want's to keep them close but the grieving wife in me desperatly needs to be alone.

I jumped as I startled at the sound of tapping on the window and looked up to see my sister Leslie and her husband Jamie standing there looking at me with the same concern in their eyes that I've become so accustomed to seeing. I've noticed pity makes it harder for me to hold it together and anger seems to dull the pain. I've had to make a concious effort lately to keep from making eye contact with anyone for too long. I tell myself to forgive the pity in their eyes and roll down the window. I ask Leslie to find mom for me, she turns to her husband and asks "Jamie, will you grab mom please, I'll stay with my sister" Jamie smiles, as forced of a smile as I had managed to conjure up for my kids after my bout of "car sickness" then he went off in pursuit of his mother in law.

"Ya alright?" Leslie asked, " I don't think I can do this", " yes you can, you are strong and once you get through this, it's over, we can go home" she said as she opened the door to the truck. "Now c'mon, you can't hide in here your kids need you". I closed my eyes and inhaled as deep of a breath as my lungs could manage, as if it was the last one to be had until the service was over. Accepting my sisters hand I made my way toward the church, making a deal with God that if I could just get through this somehow without really going through it I would devote the rest of my life to him. Anything, just get me through this I prayed.

I saw our mom just inside the entrance of the church looking toward us. I felt like a child again as I hurried toward the safety of my mother.

I entered the building and immeditatly noticed the rest of his family had arrived. I wanted to turn and run, I couldn't take anyone being kind to me. I knew one kind word, one grieving tear and I would lose it. My sister who had looped her arm through mine must have sensed what I was thinking because she leaned over and whispered "it's okay, we are almost there" then she tightened her hold. 'Damn her' I thought, I just want to disappear.

Everyone turned and looked at me at once, as if on cue. I watched in horror as they all headed my way, with their words of sympathy practiced and prepared in an effort to show support. I had always wondered why everybody always said the same things, like " Oh you poor thing, I can't imagine what you must be going through". As if those words can somehow magically ease the pain, like the grieving person would suddenly feel lightened of the burden they carry just by simply knowing people truly felt sorry for them. Now I know why, I thought ironically, because you have to say something, something safe and those words seem to be what's tried and true. The words are safe so people stick with them not even realizing that what they are saying comes out like a tape recorded message. Like a grocery store greeting card, cold with sincere intention.

"I will never again say that to someone" I promised myself. I felt sorry for their predicament, I knew they were grieving too and wished they wouldn't make a fuss over me. Briefly I wondered how a person might politely ask to be left alone without causing any hard feelings or embarassment. The last thing I wanted was to hurt the people who loved him, who loved us.

I saw my mother coming to my rescue and felt relief.

Once again good ol' mom, my rock, my savior in so many ways, to my rescue.

People who don't know her think she is uncaring or unfeeling but they have no idea, my mother has managed to make it through crisis after crisis and come out on top every time because she does keep it together. Some of my husbands family think she is calloused but if they knew the truth of it, if it wasn't for my mother I would be in a hospital for the emotionally damaged right now instead of standing in this fucking church getting ready for my husbands funeral service.

"Okay everybody, it's time to take our seats" a stranger called out in a sing song tone. The moment I’ve been dreading and anticipating has finally arrived. "I can't!" I say in a panic as I turn to my mother, "ssshhhh it's okay, you don't have to" she soothes, "but I do have to, I can't come all this way and then not go in!". For the first time since I got the call informing us of his death I see my mom crack, her eye's fill with tears and threaten to spill. I feel for her, it must be terrible to see your child suffer like this on top of dealing with your own grief. "Okay, when you’re ready we will go in together" she says. I know I have to go in, I know I will never forgive myself if I don't "OH GOD MOM!" I cry out in a desperate shrill voice, causing everyone to stop and look at me as they begin to enter the cold impersonal room where the service is to be held. I scream out to my mother, totally oblivious of the stares "THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN, THIS IS NOT WHAT WE PLANNED, WE... GENE AND THE KIDS... AND... ME! WE WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!" Tears stream uncontrollably down my face, the make up I had appied earlier in an attempt to camoflauge my red swollen eyes leaves black trails of grief on my wet cheeks, making me look even more pathetic and broken. The room begins to spin, I reach out for my mother, grabbing a hold of me she leads me to a chair and stands guard while I fall apart. "OH MOM, MAKE IT GO AWAY! PLEEEEAAAASE" I weep uncontrollably, like a small child begging for her momma to fix it. My mother stands silent, tears streaming rapidly down her stoic face as she is helpless to provide her child with any peace or any comfort. "Come on, we have to go" she quietly whispers, I stand up, my body is racked with pain, I shake uncontrollably and my knees feel like jelly. My mother bravely leads the way as we make our entrance into the dreaded room. I stare at the floor as she guides me to our seats, she gently signals me to slide into the pew first. I take my seat and look up, seeing my son and my daughter I say quietly to nobody in particular " My God, our children are burying their dad". It's then I notice that I feel like I am disconnecting, like maybe it's all been a dream! Hope rushes through me as I laugh wildly at the whole awfull nightmare, I reach out knowing that if I can just grab a hold of Gene I will wake up next to him and he will hold me as I tell him all about the horrible dream and all the people, afterwards we will laugh at the absurdity of it and fall asleep in each others arms and then… I feel nothing.

"Nicky?" someone is saying my name. Are you alright? There it is again.

What has happend? I wonder for a blissful second. I open my eyes and realize I wasn't a dreaming, I had passed out. Seeing all the people standing around me I feel foolish, like I am somehow letting my kids down, embarassing myself and them. 'Why can't I be as strong as my mom' I think chastising myself. I look to my left and see my mothers blue eyes, calm and in control, I wonder who it is that she gets to lean on?

She hands me tissue and promises once again that it would be okay if I chose to leave and once again I think for a second that I would like nothing better. Then I remember my kids, no, my children need this time to say goodbye.

It comes to me at that moment... I too sacrifice for my children; I too can be a strong parent and raise these kids on my own.

The rest of service I sit quietly sobbing into wet tissues, thinking of so many things, my husband and the memories we were blessed with, my mother and her strength, my sister and her family with all their stability and my children, our children, my little pieces of him. So many wonderful things, I think as I smile through the million tears of crushing pain.

On the way home my son finally speaks. I hadn't heard him say much since his dads murder and I had been up nights worried about him, but hearing him talk about his dad now I know it will be okay, someday.

I glance back at my little girl and she smiles and says, hey mom remember that time when dad...

Everyone laughed at her story, her memory; I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer, asking God to keep him close until I get there.

Then, with the sound of my family laughing and sharing their memories of the man we loved I leaned my head against the window and looked out at the landscape. Relaxing I exhaled for what felt like the first time since I climbed out of the truck at the church. I closed my eyes and thought about everything he would be saying to me right then, and as I envisioned the last time he held me I fell asleep dreaming of once upon a time...