Page 90 of Make It Without You

“One of my greatest blessings in life was helping to raise you. I got to watch you grow up into a beautiful majestic bird. I got to watch you perform your heart out to a packed auditorium. I got to watch you fall in love.”

My childhood plays behind my tear-filled eyes. Every big moment, Gloria was there. When she goes, the best parts of that time in my life will only be alive because of me.

“Tell me about your life in Cincinnati.”

“I started dating someone,” I tell her.

“What’s he like?”

“Kind. Patient. He has a little boy who’s going into the second grade. He loves me.”

“What’s not to love about you?” She pokes as she continues to run her hands through my hair. “What’s his name? The both of them.”

“His name is Adam. And he’s thirty-eight. His son’s name is Dylan and he’s…they’re both amazing.”

I talk with her about how we met and how he never gave up on me when I was determined to keep him as a friend. I talk to her about how hard it was to love again but that Adam made it incredibly easy.

“Emily,” her breathing has become more labored. “I want you to promise me something.”

I swallow hard as the tears continue to fall. “What is it?”

“I want you to play again.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I admit. While I’ve long thought of picking my violin up again, I have no clue if the years of training I did are useful.

“You can,” Gloria weakly argues back. Her breath rattles out of her and it’s now that I realize she’s sicker than my mom let on. “Play something easy and go from there. It’s my final wish. I wish for you to play again.”

I sitin the pew between my parents as the priest talks about life and living it to its fullest. Gloria passed away in her sleep a few days after I got to the hospital. She was surrounded by her family and mine. Well, I guess you could say we were all family.

In the days since she passed, I contacted Amelia and asked if she would help me learnAve Mariaon the violin. It was thequickest I had learned to play a piece of music through the tears that never stopped.

I have a speech prepared and when the priest gives me a nod, both of my parents squeeze my hands before I scoot out of the row and up to the podium.

Unfolding the speech, I look out into the crowd. I look at Gloria’s family broken as they come to terms with the fact they lost a vital piece of their family.

Movement from the back of the church draws my attention and I see Adam looking every bit the man I fell in love with. Showing up when I didn’t ask him to. Sending me his strength when I need it most.

“When I think of my childhood, I can’t remember a time when that didn’t include Gloria. My first day of school, every year, she would hand me toast and a piece of bacon. It was such a simple meal. But she knew my nerves of starting something new got to me. So she gave me comfort in whatever form she could.” I close my eyes as I remember the painful moments. “Gloria was by my side for every moment. When my parents and I didn’t see eye-to-eye, she gave me her strength. She was there when I fell in love. She was there when I graduated and when I performed in front of a packed auditorium. She was there when I suffered a loss.”

I look back at my violin and bow sitting on a stand, waiting to be picked up. To let the music flow through the room with hopes that the notes will heal just a little.

“Before she passed, she told me her final wish was for me to play again. To be honest I haven’t picked up my violin since I was eighteen as I put that part of my life behind me. But I could never say no to Gloria. So that’s what I’m going to do for her. Play,” I can’t stop my voice from trembling or cracking as the tears that formed flow freely down my cheeks. “And I’m gonnasay goodbye to one of my favorite people and my favorite part of my childhood.”

Taking a breath, I walk over to my violin and I take center stage. Placing my violin on my shoulder and the bow in the ready position I take several deep breaths before I close my eyes and play.

I had long thought that when I stopped playing that my memorization skills would disappear with it. But that’s not the case. Behind my closed eyes, I see every note. The crescendo, the decrescendo. The vibrato and trills. The runs and the long notes. I picture Gloria sitting and watching as I practice my piece for my recital. I see the smile and tears as I finish my piece flawlessly.

And when I finish this piece, there's nothing. No crowd cheering. No Gloria telling me I played beautifully. Just the sound of sniffles from the tears her family shed.

When the last note fades away, I open my eyes and place my violin back on the stand. Without another word or glance at the others, I clutch my speech and sit back between my parents.

More words are spoken about love and loss. The potential to make this loss mean something more than it being a loss.

The funeral ends with only immediate family allowed to head to the burial site. It hurt when my parents told me, but in the end, seeing the end to my childhood as Gloria is lowered into the ground may make me unrepairable.

We’re walking out of the church when I spot Adam standing off to the side and I rush to him. Flinging my arms around his neck as the tears come.

His hand cradles my head with his other arm wrapping around my waist, holding me to him, and piecing me together. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

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