Page 95 of Survival

When we reached the last page she’d filled out, Izzy looked over at me. “It doesn’t seem right that we never got to finish this for her. Or that she’ll never get to read it.”

“I still think she knows how much we love her. She had to have felt it with the way you were when you were pregnant. She was lucky to have you for a mom. Even if that time got cut short.”

Izzy smiled, and a single tear dripped down onto the blank page. “Thank you, Tucker.”

I picked up the book and set it gently to the side next to a framed sonogram picture and a little outfit Izzy had chosen. The letter Patrick had written was tucked away safely in the box so it wouldn’t blow away in the wind. Half our candles were out now because of it.

Once everything was to the side, I stretched out across the blanket and opened my arms for Izzy to join. She smiled and crawled over to nestle close, hooking one of her legs over mine as she draped an arm over me, her head resting on my chest. I curled an arm around her back, my fingers twirling the ends of the long chestnut strands that fell against her lower back.

Laying with her hadn’t felt this peaceful in ages, and after some time passed, I shifted, moving to my side so I could kiss her lips. I looked into her bright eyes,finding a hint of something lingering there on the surface. “How are you doing?”

“Much better. I promise.”

“But you’re not really at peace yet, are you?”

“No,” she admitted with a sigh. “But there are definite improvements.”

“What can I do to help you get there?” The peace was great. An amazing relief, but I couldn’t really enjoy it until I knew she’d pushed through everything, too. I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “What do you think’s still holding you back?”

ISABEL

I looked into the deep, swirling whiskey that was watching me with so much concern. Breaking the dam earlier had done wonders, revived parts of me I’d thought were lost forever, but truly letting go of Zoey was proving harder than I’d hoped.

I sighed, wishing I knew what to tell him. “I don’t know, Tucker. I don’t know what else there is to say. We’ve talked through our issues, we’ve gone over and through the things I kept of Zoey’s, we’ve cried ‘til our heads hurt. Maybe we’re just pushing it.”

Tucker shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. You’re ready for this.”

“Tell that to my head. And my heart.” I rolled to my back on the blanket, frustrated. “I mean, what else can I do? I feel like we’ve done everything.”

The wind blew up from the water then, extinguishing another candle beside me just as Tucker’s brow furrowed, and he turned, grabbing the baby book to hold it up over me.

“Closure.”

I adjusted to rest back on my elbows, frowning up at it. “We’ve already gone through the book.”

Tucker grinned, ever patient with me. “I know. What I mean is that you said it doesn’t seem right that we never got to finish this. So, let’s do it. Let’s finish it, and when we’re done, we can close it up and put it back in the box where it belongs.”

“I don’t want to just shut her away,” I snapped. “We have to remember her.”

“I know, princess. And we will. But this is us moving on. She’ll always be there for us to remember. Just because her book is put away doesn’t mean it can’t ever be pulled out again. But we have to be able to pull it out to remember the good things, not the bad.”

So much of what he said made sense, but it still hurt.He’s right, though. Putting her book away doesn’t mean we won’t remember her.And as I thought about it, I had to admit that finishing the book would be the perfect way to say goodbye.

“Alright.” I nodded, still convincing myself as I got up to retrieve a pen from the truck.

I settled back down beside Tucker, and the pen flew across the pages, the two of us telling our daughter how sorry we were that we lost her, that we’d never get the chance to know her and watch her grow. We told her how much we’d miss her and promised that she’d always be in our hearts.

We wrote about the pain of losing her, how we’d fought it, but now, it was time for us to let her go, and not to worry because she’d be a part of us forever.

Love, Mommy and Daddywas how we signed it at the end, and when I closed the book, a tear dropped from each of my eyes. I rested my head against the pink surface and inhaled as the ache in my heart relaxed, finally allowing me to breathe. It was as though Zoey was telling me she understood. That it was okay to move on, and to show it, she placed a balm on the last of my pain.

It felt so perfect, I couldn’t help but cry.

Tucker flipped me to my back and knelt over me, placing his knees on either side of my thighs, his torso was so much taller than mine, and he brushed away my tears before sliding his fingers through the hair by my face. “I promise you so many babies.”

I giggled at the promise. Damn right he was going to give me more babies…someday. “Good,” I told him. “Because Zoey could use some brothers and sisters. I think she’s getting spoiled from all the attention.”

He kissed me at that remark, and his fingers tangled in my hair. I was back. We both felt it. Sure, it would still hurt to remember our baby. No parent should ever have to outlive their child. That was something that made permanent changes to the soul. Closure and acceptance may have helped us to heal our wounds, but there would always be an irreversible mark.

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