Making Faces

by Amy Harmon

He said Bailey taught him to love and to put things in perspective, to live for the present, to say I love you often and to mean it. And to be grateful for every day. It taught him patience and perseverance. It taught him there are things that are more important than wrestling.”

“We were robbed. We were robbed of Bailey’s light, Paulie’s sweetness, Grant’s integrity, Jesse’s passion and Bean’s love of life. We were robbed. But I’ve decided to smile, like Bailey did, and steal something from the thief.”

Fern walked to the hole and crouching down she pulled a handful of rocks from the pockets of her black dress. Carefully, she formed the letters B S at the foot of the grave. “Beautiful Spider?” Ambrose said softly, just beyond her left shoulder, and Fern smiled, amazed that he remembered. “Beautiful Sheen. Beautiful Bailey Sheen. That’s how I’ll always remember him.”

“Ambrose, Fern already sees who you really are. That’s why she loves you.”

“I love you Fern. And I want you to marry me.” “You do?” Fern squealed. “I do. It doesn’t get better than Fern Taylor.” “It doesn’t?” Fern squeaked. “It doesn’t.” Ambrose couldn’t help laughing at her incredulous little face. “And if you’ll have me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, and when you get tired of looking at me, I promise I’ll sing.” Fern laughed, a watery, hiccupping sound. “Yes or no?” Ambrose said seriously, reaching for her hand, the ultimate either/or question hanging in the air between them. “Yes.”

And sometimes they met somewhere in between and lost themselves in each other for a couple of days, making the most of every second, because seconds became minutes and minutes became precious when life could be taken in less than a breath.

“True beauty, the kind that doesn’t fade or wash off, takes time. It takes pressure. It takes incredible endurance. It is the slow drip that makes the stalactite, the shaking of the Earth that creates mountains, the constant pounding of the waves that breaks up the rocks and smooths the rough edges. And from the violence, the furor, the raging of the winds, the roaring of the waters, something better emerges, something that would otherwise never exist. “And so we endure. We have faith that there is purpose. We hope for things we can’t see. We believe that there are lessons in loss, power in love, and that we have within us the potential for a beauty so magnificent that our bodies can’t contain it.”