Page 108 of Forget Me Not

“I’m really sorry, Cody.”

He shrugs, sniffling.

“Were you close with your grandpa?”

He nods.

“You know,” I start, sucking in a deep breath and plopping down on a storage box in the closet. He steps in, leaning back against the door, but he won’t look at me. “I lost someone, too. Someone really close to me.”

He chances a peek at me, still frowning. “Your husband.”

Well, shit.

“I heard my mom and dad talking about it.”

I should have assumed. The Latterie’s are always in everybody’s business.

“Yeah, he was my husband,” I say softly, pushing my own feelings of grief and guilt down because, well, this kid needs me to. “It was really, really hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I thought I would never be happy again. I know you’ve probably heard this a lot, recently, but your grandpa is in a better place. Somewhere he won’t be sick or be in pain. He’s happy. I’m sure he would want you to be happy, too.”

Cody starts crying, sucking in a shallow breath and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“And I know it hurts. Sometimes it’s hard to breathe because you miss them so much. But I promise you, things get better. You won’t forget them, but you’ll be able to focus on how much fun you had when they were here. I bet your friends would make you laugh. Help you get through this.”

I’m not exactly the poster child for leaning on friends after loss. Of the people Jack and I were friends with, I still talk to a whopping zero of them. It became too hard, once he was gone, to go out with them. The one time I tried, I ended up chickening out because what recently widowed woman wants to hang out with a bunch of couples? Especially couples that were more Jack’s friends than mine. Not me. Eventually, they stopped trying to reach out and I all but disappeared from their lives.

“Mom said he had cancer and he was old.”

“It sounds to me like he lived a long and happy life. I mean, he got to spend time with you, right? You guys were close. I’m sure that time meant the world to him.”

“Do you think there’s a heaven?”

Oh, shit. Abort.

I’ve never had this talk with anyone and there are lines, as a teacher, I can’t cross. Still, the kid needs something and I can’t let him walk away still questioning whether his grandpa is really in a better place.

“I think no matter what you believe, there’s a place where everyone goes that’s full of happiness. Heaven is whatever you want it to be. What did your grandpa like to do for fun?”

“Fish.”

Should have seen that one coming.

“So, maybe he’s somewhere fishing. Every time you think about him not being here with you anymore, just picture him out on his boat, doing what he loves.”

“Grandpa’s fishing.”

I nod. “Yeah, I bet he’s searching for that blue lobster you and your dad caught.”

He smiles, chuckling quietly. “Gonna be hard to find him.”

“I know,” I agree. “Things that rare are hard to find, but once you do, you want to hold onto them forever. Kind of like the memories you have with your grandpa.” Standing from the box, I hold out my pinky to him. It’s stupid, but it’s what I’ve got. “Pinky promise you’ll let me know if you need to talk. I’m always open.”

He’s reluctant at first, but after a moment, he wraps his little pinky around mine with a smile. “Thanks, Ms. Fischer.”

“Of course. Now, why don’t you help me get this box of paints for our next class and then we can all go play basketball outside? It’s a cool day.”

“Okay.” Lifting the box, he eyes me like I’ve lost my mind. “This box isn’t that heavy, Ms. Fisher.”

I smirk behind his back as he leads me back to the classroom.

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