Digging In

by Loretta Nyhan

So I gave no thought to what “parted” really meant. How unfair it was, how permanent, how out of our control. At his service, everyone said he was still with me, but the truth was that not only was he gone, parts of me went with him. I missed them, too, and like Jesse, they weren’t coming back.

Forever. Till death do us part. The thing is, no one tells you what to do when the parting happens. And they forget to explain that when death is sudden, the parting is actually a ragged tear, not a clean separation. It leaves all the ends unfinished, and they just unravel and unravel and . . .

“I want to know what the other kind of change is. The kind that isn’t slow.” Tears burned at my eyes, hot and quick. “It’s the kind that pulls you by the hair. The unexpected jolt. It’s merciless, and it doesn’t allow you to change cell by cell, cushioning the blow with time. It smacks you into a new reality. It forces you to examine things you’d rather leave under a

rock.”

“Sometimes the brain takes a while to catch up with the heart.”

He told me that it was okay to be new with someone and that growth was the natural by-product of change. He said I shouldn’t fight it or taint it with guilt or wish I’d been more like this new self with him, because it would discount the beauty of what we’d had. He said I should be open not only to life but also to love.

I’d mourn him every day until I drew my last breath, but I had to stop obsessing over the unfairness that he was taken and focus on the wonders he’d given us.