Comes a Time

“You’ve been gone so long. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”1

I wake up and his side of the bed is still empty and cold. The dream tonight was more real than most nights and I am left with a gaping hole feeling right in the center of my chest. My insistent bladder refuses to allow me my moment of grief. Careful not to lose my balance, I ease out of the bed and pad to the toilet.2

When I am settled back in bed and trying to get back to sleep, the baby starts kicking. I guess she thinks it’s time to get up since I am awake. It feels like she’s invited some friends to join her, too. I throw back the covers and watch by the moonlight as my swollen belly jiggles and bumps on its own accord. I wonder if she will be a soccer player.3

It is not until I wake up again that I realize I had fallen asleep. Morning light is playing through wind-spun leaves creating a dazzling light show and the cat is curled tight in his bed. Again I have the seemingly never ending urge to urinate, but I have no motivation to leave the bed. I wish I could just stay here until he comes back even though I know that would do me no good.4

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“It’s not possible. No, you’ve got to check again. She was just playing last night!”6

The horror settles in as the mid-wife shakes her head and puts the wand on my stomach. She moves it around until I see the little hands with five fingers and the little feet with five toes. I see the little alien head, too. What I don’t see is the heart. No longer beating, it blends with the rest of the murky image. The shriek that tears from the base of my soul brings a flood of well-meaning nurses running into the room. Decorum be damned – this can NOT be happening to me!7

My sister holds my hand as they perform the operation. My mother could not handle it – she broke down and had to be sedated. Too bad it’s not that simple for me – there is no simple remedy. Just sedate me enough so that I don’t have to wake up.8

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“Pack it in, boys. We’re headed home!”10

I imagine that’s what he said right before they boarded the flight. He liked to say cheesy things like that with all the seriousness he could muster. He would throw out clichés all day until someone caught him at it.11

I’ll get to see him today. He’ll be dressed in his best. He’ll get to meet his little daughter for the first time, too. My body will be there, held up by best wishes and regretful friends. Perhaps I will be their model for, “I guess I don’t really have it that bad after all.”12

The caskets my father chose are matching hues of green. I think my husband would have approved, except for the part about him being inside one of them. I named our little girl so her headstone wouldn’t be blank. That way I can always find them when I come to visit for some family time.
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