Page 11 of All Your Firsts Without Me

“What do we do? Do something! We need to do CPR!” I’m frantically trying to position my husband so we can help him.

Kaden pulls me into his lap. “Stop, April. He’s gone. He’s gone.” Kaden begins to rock us back and forth as I meekly fight him. Both of us cry like inconsolable children.

We sit with David for a long time. Each of us reach out from time to time to touch him. His body grows cold fast… so fast. “I’m going to call Teresa,” he tells me as he gently pushes me off his lap to pull his phone out of his back pocket.

She answers on the first ring. “He’s gone,” is all Kaden can get out. A few minutes later Teresa and Jeff are kneeling by our sides.

“I called…” Teresa sniffles, trying to keep her voice calm, “the funeral home. They will be here to get him any minute.”

That’s when my heart cracks, my mouth falls open, and the pain retches free from my lungs in a loud gasp. I jump to my feet, glancing around the empty beach. I don’t know what to do. I can’t let them take him. He can’t go with strangers to a strange place. No. This can’t be happening.

Jeff wraps his arms around me. “Why don’t we go back to the house,” he says quietly. “I have something I can give you that will help.” Jeff is a doctor. A wonderful doctor. He brings life into this world. He’s an obstetrician.

“I… I c-can’t l-leave,” I stutter. It’s so hard, so hard to speak. Maybe I’ll go back to the way I was. Will my words die with David?

Kaden stands in front of me. “April, go with Jeff. I’ll stay. I’ll make sure they take good care of him.”

The thought of outsiders touching my husband, placing him in one of those black bags makes my stomach churn. He hugs me tightly and then pushes me into Jeff’s arms. I stare down at David.

He isn’t here.

This isn’t my David.

Where did he go?

Jeff guides me away from the beach and into the house. He hands me a glass of water and two tiny pills. “Take these, April. They will help you sleep.” I do as he says and then I lie back as he covers me with the bright yellow starburst quilt that David bought me all those years ago. The one he lost his ability to walk for. Closing my eyes, I repeat over and over and over.It’s all a bad dream. It’s all a bad dream. It’s all a bad dream.

CHAPTER SIX

April

The minute consciousness comes to me, the heavy weight of David’s death sits on my chest, suffocating me. His side of the bed is cold, empty. The clock on the bedside table tells me it’s five am. How do I go about beginning my first day without him?

I drag myself out of bed and peek in Kaden’s room, finding him passed out on the bed, an open bottle of Jack Daniels precariously hanging from his hand. Carefully, I pull the bottle away and cap it, taking it with me to the kitchen. The house is so quiet. I set the bottle on the counter and decide to start some coffee. Kaden is going to need it once he wakes.

Leaning against the coffee maker is a letter with my name on it. It’s written in my husband’s handwriting. My heart thumps in my ears as I break out in a cold sweat. I grab it and hold it to my nose, hoping I can smell him on the paper. Dropping to the floor, I rip open the seal.

Good morning, little diamond,

You didn’t think I would leave you with nothing did you? So, here is what you are going to do on your first morning without me. First off, finish making the coffee. Put extra sugar in it. I have a confession to make. You know how you complained that my coffee was always better than yours, no matter how hard you tried to do it just like I did. Well, I added a spoonful of sugar when you weren’t looking. Sorry, not sorry. Hey, you loved it, but now you know… so don’t forget… one extra spoonful of sugar… every day. Okay, get busy on the coffee. When it’s done, continue reading.

I laugh sadly and pick myself up off the floor. I make the coffee and add one extra spoonful like he said. I pick up the letter and continue to read.

Take a nice long drink. Good, isn’t it? Lesson number one. My death did not take the goodness out of coffee. Don’t forget that. Anyhow, let’s move on. Open the door and take a step outside.

I grab my cup and head out onto the front patio. It’s still dark outside, the sun still hiding its light and warmth from me.

Have a seat, and let’s wait for the sun to rise. I hope you were able to sleep. Jeff told me he would take care of you the first night. That can’t be a habit though. You will need to learn to fall asleep on your own. Anyhow, take a deep breath. Lesson number two. You can breathe. Breathe deeply every day. Sometimes, this will be all that you can do. That’s fine. It will take time, but always, always, remember to breathe.

Okay, now look around. Tell me everything you see, say it out loud so I can hear you.

I laugh, brushing the tears from my cheeks with the bottom of my palms. This is silly.I look around to see if anyone is near, but I’m all alone. It’s just me and the musings of my late husband. “I see the birds pecking around, searching for their breakfast. I see weeds blowing in the wind. I see the ocean waves crashing against the sand. There is a pink tinge to the sky as the sun begins to rise.” I stop and look back to the letter.

I am all of those things, April.

My eyes raise and I take another glance, a closer one.

The next few days, weeks, months, will be tough for you. I know this. Later today, you will be receiving a box of letters. Letters for all the firsts you will have without me. There are other letters in there as well, don’t be greedy with them. They will not last forever but remember that you can read them over and over again. By the time the ink fades, I know in my heart you will have found peace. I haven’t left you. I will never leave you. I’m now in a position to watch over you and watch over you I shall. Do not doubt that.

---