Page 66 of Falling Inn Love
I sling my backpack over my shoulder. I didn’t pack much because I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with packing before my flight. I head outside to wait for Cara, who pulls up in her white SUV within minutes. I jump in and lean over to hug her tight.
“I’ve missed you,” I tell her.
“We’ve missed you. The twins are excited you’re coming.” She sizes me up. “You look sad but good.”
It’s been over a year since Cara, Steve, and their twin girls visited Logan in Boston and I joined everyone for the weekend. This is the first time I’ve been back to Austin in a very long time.
I slide my glasses back up my nose and we drive for a while. The closer we get to our small town, the stronger the magnetic pull I feel toward them. I need her to stop.
“Can we make a stop?” I ask.
She looks over at me and quietly nods. “Of course.”
I don’t even have to tell her where she needs to stop, because sometimes you have friends that just know. And Cara knows; she always has. She pulls into the cemetery and drives until she gets to where they are.
She unbuckles her seatbelt, but I put my hand on hers. “Can I do this alone for a minute?”
“I’ll be here.”
I find the Covey headstone with John Michael on one side and Emilia Grace on the other. I run my fingers over the letters and tears slide down my cheeks. I kneel in front and smooth the flowers. Cara has told me that many of John’s former players, students, and parents have visited. This makes me feel worse that I haven’t been here.
“I’m so sorry. I love you both so much.” My voice trembles.“I’m so sorry I haven’t been back. I’m just so sorry. I’m sorry this happened. I wish you were both here.
“I miss you so much,” I whisper. I sit and pull my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, pulling them closer.
My mind goes back to that day again. My heart in my chest feels like it’s going to explode as I allow the memories to flow in instead of avoiding them like I’ve done a good job of doing for the past six years.
My mind goes back to the highway that day when we came upon the wreck. I remember getting out and running up to the EMT who was blocking traffic with his ambulance. I looked inside the ambulance, expecting to see my family, but it was empty. I asked him who had been involved in the wreck. I explained frantically that I couldn’t get ahold of my husband because he wasn’t answering his phone but his last location was here on this highway.
I’ll never forget the EMT’s face as he looked over to the county deputy standing nearby. He was young and scared. He wouldn’t look directly at me. I stared hard, searching his face, hoping he’d finally acknowledge me and tell me that it was someone else, but he couldn’t meet my eyes.
Finally, the deputy approached, a grave expression on his face. That was the moment that changed my life. I knew.
I can still remember the sharp pain in my chest. The way he looked at me, I’ll never forget. He knew there were no words he could say to make this any easier. There was no easy way for him to tell me what I needed to be told. My heart still breaks for that deputy.
I remember the air leaving my body as I tried to keep from falling apart. I tried to look around him, but he moved to block my view so I couldn’t see. I remember asking him, “Is it bad? What happened?” I pleaded with him for any information.
I mentally prepared myself for whatever we needed to do—rehab, a long hospital stay, we’d do whatever it took—but nothing could prepare me for what he was about to say.
“We found no survivors, ma’am,” he answered solemnly.
“Can you keep looking? I can help you,” I had answered, not understanding.
“I’m sorry, they’re gone. Is there anyone we can call for you?” he asks, his face trying to be strong, but I could tell this was very hard for him.
Cara ran up at that moment and I collapsed to the pavement next to her. That moment rocked me to my core. It broke something in me that I don’t think I can ever get back. My family was gone. My entire world. My reason for living… Gone. That day, that moment, everything changed for me. Some things you just never get over.
I sit and pull my knees to my chest. I remember walking into our home after that and it suddenly felt like someone else’s, like right out of a nightmare. Like seeing our home from a different person. Which makes sense now, because I was a different person after that. Emmie’s stroller was still in the front hallway, parked and ready for her next evening walk that John and I took every night with her. There were reminders everywhere I looked. I just wanted the pain to go away.
I packed the pain away and ran for six years.
And now, I’m home again. And I think it’s finally time to heal.
I cry until I feel exhausted. I needed this. I feel them with me wherever I go, but I don’t feel them here at the grave as I thought I would. It makes me feel better to know that they have been with me the past six years no matter where I’ve been.
“John, I hope you’re taking care of our baby girl. Give her a big hug and kiss for me. I miss you. Coming back here is hard. I see all the memories we made together, and I would give anything to have you here.”
After a while, I head back to the car, knowing I’ll be back often while I’m here in Austin. “Thanks,” I say as I slide in and shut my door.
