Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“I was driving by Milner Lake the other day and it just broke my heart,” Connie reminisces. “All the times you two would hang out there in the summer. I remember the day you got engaged… that look on Missy’s face when you got down on one knee was priceless. You were at the end of the dock with the sun setting behind her…”
I close my eyes and settle back into my chair, listening to Connie recount the memories. Melissa and I dated all through high school, and I spent a lot of time over at her house. Connie and Andrew Waite became second parents to me. I invited them to be there when I proposed, along with my parents. I loved them. They were going to be my parents through marriage, so I wanted them to share in the joy.
“… so I went in,” she continues, having sunk deeper into her sadness, “and rearranged the furniture in her room. It made me feel close to her.”
Melissa was twenty-seven when she died, and we’d been married and living together for six years, but Connie never changed her bedroom.
Now it’s a shrine.
“Cannon… I know how difficult this time is for you. I know how hard you try to move on, and I know you’re having the same struggles that I am. Just know I’m here for you because you’re still like a son to me.”
I take in a shaky breath. Connie lives in a fantasy land. I am not struggling to move on, and the anniversary of Melissa’s death will not send me into an abyss of grief next Wednesday.
That’s not to say I didn’t have debilitating grief after she died. There were weeks where I was beyond lost on how to escape the pain, then things gradually got better.
I most certainly moved on because every person in my life who loved me—friends, family, teammates—wanted me to move on. I choose not to stay in the darkness, and I do that by focusing on the very special memories we had together. That’s particularly so because Melissa and I didn’t have a very good marriage in the end.
Yes, I’ll be sad next week, and the day will be tough… but it won’t debilitate me like it will Connie.
I take a moment when she pauses and attempt to change the subject. “What’s Andrew been up to?”
Connie sighs with exasperation. “Oh, you know him… traveling all over the country taking depositions. I think it’s an excuse to get away from the pain, but we all grieve differently.”
My heart breaks she doesn’t have her husband to lean on. I would never in a million years tell Connie this, but I’m quite sure Andrew travels so much to keep some distance from his wife. Like me, he’s been able to process his grief in a healthy way, but he’s had a tremendously difficult time dealing with a wife who can’t move on. Frankly, I’m surprised Andrew has not divorced her, but maybe guilt keeps him there.
I know all about guilt keeping you in a marriage. I could write a fucking book about it.
“Listen, Connie… I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got a team meeting I have to get to. Would you like me to call you later tonight?”
Connie sniffles again. “Oh, you don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”
“I’ll call you tonight,” I promise her. I won’t enjoy it, but I’ll do it. It’s part of the continual commitment I have to Melissa to not leave her parents behind.
“Oh, that would be wonderful, Cannon. I was going to pull out picture albums and look at them tonight. We’ll have some good memories to talk about.”
I smile into the phone because that actually sounds nice. I never mind talking about the good memories of Melissa and hopefully Connie will be able to keep it to that. But deep down, I know she’s going to end up losing control, and I’ll end up listening to her pouring out her grief to probably the only person who will still listen.
Unfortunately, by letting this go on for so long—letting Connie use me as a sponge for her melancholy—I haven’t been able to tell her my true feelings. It would kill her to know that I left that part of my life behind.
Not just Melissa, but my hockey career, and the almost daily fights we’d have over said hockey career. I left behind the months where I took care of Melissa, and I most certainly let go of the horror of watching someone you love die.
Connie would probably have a heart attack if she knew how bad our marriage had become before Melissa got sick, but it might help ground her in reality. It’s a fucking mess, and while I’ve had plenty of counseling to help me process my feelings over losing my wife, I have no clue how to handle Connie’s, so I just sit and listen when she needs to talk.