Undream the Echoes

Elle
04.30.2005

I don’t know it quite yet, but today is Liam’s last day.

He has been hospitalized for the past week. We were lying in bed last Monday night and he had started complaining that the pains in his chest were getting worse and worse; I told him to take an aspirin and maybe call his doctor as I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. When I returned to the room I found Liam collapsed on the floor.

He’s been confined in his measly white cot with his IV wire acting as a chain that imprisons him. He hates it. He wants to go out and see the world once more before he dies, to breathe the fresh air and to see the clouds and to feel the sunshine…but he can’t. He can hardly walk by himself to the bathroom, that’s how weak he’s gotten.

I don’t let him see me cry. I force myself to stay up longer than him so that he doesn’t have to hear me sob myself to sleep. And I force myself to wake up quite early in the morning, so I have time to wipe my tears and to get coffee so he can wake up to see me smiling.

The act doesn’t work very well, though. “We’ve been married for almost five years,” Liam had told me as he brushed off a tear I had accidentally let slip down my cheek. “I know when you’re upset. It’s okay, Elle. It will all be okay.” He smiles but I can see through his act too.

He may be the one on the deathbed, but in reality we’re both dying.

It’s sunny outside on the morning of his death. He had asked me to open up the blinds for him as soon as he woke up, and now the room is filled with the golden sunrise.

“You can probably go outside, if you really want to,” I say as I stick my head out the window and let myself enjoy the blissful weather. “They’ll probably make me wheel you around in a wheelchair, but whatever. It’s so nice.”

“I don’t think I want to. Not today.” His voice is tired and scratchy; this is the worst I’ve heard him. I know something is not okay, because Liam had been itching to go outdoors since he got trapped in the hospital. I turn around slowly, dreading the site I’m about to see. Liam’s eyes are closed. He’s lying perfectly still, and his breathing is so shallow I wouldn’t have known he was alive were it not for the fact that a monitor is beeping with the pace of his heartbeat.

I walk over to his bedside and sit down in a chair. “Why not?” I ask softly, even though I know the true answer. I reach a hand up and move a single black curl from his forehead. I trail my fingertips down his cheek and rest them on his lips. His face is rough because he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his cheeks are hallowed and his skin quite pale.

He turns his face slightly to face me and kisses my fingers lightly. “I’m tired today,” he answers, cracking his eyes open only slightly. The brilliant gold that once made his irises glow is now a dull copper. “So tired.”

I lean up in my chair so that my face is close to his. I kiss him softly on the lips, then the nose, and press my forehead against his.

“Elle, I don’t think…I won’t…”

“I know,” I whisper. I climb into his bed and get as close to him as I can, which is sort of difficult with my huge stomach in the way. It’s only him and me now, with the baby in between, cushioned by our grief-filled bodies. She kicks and Liam smiles; he must have felt it.

“What are you going to name her?” he asks.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I say back miserably. I had wanted to talk about names with him, but I kept on waiting to bring it up. And now…now it is too late. The monitor is beeping slower and slower. I know there’s not much time left.

“You always liked the name Marilyn,” he suggests.

But I shake my head. “I was going to name the first baby that…the one we lost. I don’t want to reuse that name. It’d be weird…wrong.”

Liam nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I like the name Soleil, though.”

He smiles. “My mother’s name.”

“Do you like it?”

“I like it.” He turns his head and kisses my cheekbone. “But what if you’re wrong? What if it’s a boy?”

At this I smile wryly, despite everything. “We’ve been married for almost five years. You should know I’m never wrong.”

He laughs lightly. “Well, you never know. But just in case…I like the name Andrew.”

“I like Soleil better,” I insist. “It will be a girl, I promise you.” The baby kicks again. “See? She agrees.”

“I hope for the baby’s sake you’re not as stubborn as you are now,” he chuckles. “It would be depressing if it’s born a boy and you name it Soleil anyway.”

“Oh, shut up. You just like picking fights with me. You know it’s a girl.”

He doesn’t laugh this time. Instead he just smiles; the fatigue has overtaken him again. The room is filled with silence and even the quietest sounds – the beeping, our breathing, the birds and the cars outside – create echoes that bounce off the sterilized white walls. And oh god, the echoes are so eerie. I think about how quiet my life will be once Liam is gone. My house will be so silent, and I’ll have no one to talk to, no one to whisper to as I lay in bed… Thoughts like these make me want to go to sleep so I can ignore reality. I dream of a place where everything is okay and Liam is alive and we can be together with our child. I dream of a place where the silence is gone. All I want to do is to undream these echoes. I want to undream the pain and I want to undream the loss and I want to undream everything.

“Liam,” I say, and my voice creates a new, vibrant echo that resounds in the room.

“Hmm.” His own voice is too scratchy and soft to even bounce off the walls.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He turns his head so that he’s looking at me straight in the eye. “I love you too.” I can feel my eyes tear up and I try to blink them away, but to no avail. “You will be happy without me, Elle. You will be. Don’t tell yourself otherwise, okay?”

“But Liam,” I say, and my voice comes out in an uncontrollable sob. “I don’t want you to leave me! I’m scared, okay? I don’t want to be alone. What if I don’t raise the baby right? What if I can’t do it without you? What if – ”

“Hey. Hey,” he says firmly and somehow finds the strength to place a hand on the back of my head. He makes me look at me and he’s giving me a serious look. “We live. We die. It’s not fair sometimes, but that’s how it happens. I will see you again someday, no matter what it takes. I will see Soleil too. Or Andrew. Or whoever this baby ends up being. I don’t want you to be sad when I leave, okay? Because I’m not. I know you’re strong and I know you will be okay. And you and the baby will have beautiful lives.”

I let out a shaky sigh as more tears stream down my face. “What if I’m not brave enough?”

“We’ve been married for almost five years. I know you, and I know you will find a way to be happy. You’re my Elle. You can do anything.”

I open my eyes and blink away the blurriness. I kiss Liam firmly and when I pull away, he looks more tired than ever before.

“It’s all right to cry, you know,” he hoarsely whispers and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “You just have to remember to laugh too. Okay?”

I let out another choked sob. “Okay.” I kiss him again.

He smiles faintly, but he’s so close to gone now that he doesn’t even have the strength to lift up the corners of his mouth. “I still think it’s going to be a boy,” he says and places a hand on my stomach. He closes his eyes.

And with a sigh and a whisper of a laugh, he fades away.

Elle
08.01.2006

“Happy birthday, Andrew,” I croon at the baby kicking and squirming in his crib.

At the site of my face, he immediately giggles and shoves a tiny fist into his mouth. The babysitter looks relieved as she accepts her pay and walks out the door, and for a good reason. Little Andy’s a spoiled little brat and he only behaves when his mommy’s around. I’ve gone through sitter and sitter; they never return my calls after dealing with my son for one day, because all he does is cry whenever I’m not around. He’s a pain in the ass, just like his father. But I don’t mind. I love my spoiled little brat.

“Ready to go visit Daddy?” I ask and pick him up, making an ‘oomph’ sound as I realize how heavy he’s gotten. He’s kind of fat for a one year old. But he’s still pretty damn adorable, if I don’t say so myself, and we can’t go anywhere without old ladies stopping and crooning over his chubby little face. I’d like to thank my side of the genes for this unbearable cuteness. He’s got curly black hair, just like Liam’s, but big blue eyes and a few freckles like my own. Sometimes I think his smile is exactly like mine, but whenever Andy gets in trouble, he has a mischievous smirk on his face that I didn’t even know infants could express – a smirk just like Liam’s.

The day is sweltering hot, but Andy seems to enjoy the weather. He’s screeching like a dinosaur from the seat of his stroller as I push him along. Normally we’d have to take a cab to go visit the cemetery, but it’s such a nice day out that I figure I can walk. Andy could use a bit of fresh air anyway.

I promised myself that I wouldn’t dwell over Liam’s death too severely. For the first four months after his death, I couldn’t keep that promise even if I was paid a hundred billion dollars. But then Andy was born. Having him was the most terrible experience of my life – I was so frightened, and I was in so much pain, and all I wanted was to have Liam by my side to comfort me. But then the doctor announced, “It’s a boy!” and I got to hold my baby in my arms for the first time.

He was screaming bloody murder until he was handed to me. Then he felt the familiar heartbeat in his ears, his lullaby of nine months, and he fell silent immediately. He made a few grunting noises and slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes for the first time. His deep blue eyes met my identical ones, and in that moment I fell in love all over again. In that moment I knew that Liam was right about everything; it would all be okay. “Andrew,” I murmured. “Andrew Soleil Berkshire.”

Okay, so I had kind of been stuck on the name Soleil. I liked it a lot, all right? I don’t really care that Andy is just going to have to suffer having a girl’s middle name for the rest of his life. So I’m stubborn. Sue me.

When we get to the cemetery, the air is significantly cooler, which is an enjoyable feeling against my sweat-misted skin. There are large oak and willow trees all around this place, creating a heavy canopy that lets little sunshine through. The leaves whisper against the wind as a breeze swooshes by, and birds flutter in and out of the tree tops. Andy squeals excitedly as a squirrel darts across our path. “Da!” he grunts.

“No, Andy, that’s not a dog. That’s called a squirrel.”

“Da!”

I know the babble da is an actual word for him because he always says it when he sees a dog (though sometimes he just says it to mean any sort of animal in general). Unlike most babies, however, the word da does not imply ‘daddy,’ which tends to be a child’s first word. It’s heartbreaking that he doesn’t know the word yet, because he doesn’t even know what a father is. And I don’t mention Liam too much around Andy. (Which is why we only visit Liam’s grave every few months. I try not to overdo it.) I will tell Andy someday…just not now. If I’m going to tell him I’m going to tell him the full story, so he can truly understand what his father was like, and how much of an incredible man he was. I’ll probably tell Andy when he’s actually old enough to understand English. It will be bit by bit, like a bedtime story. And I’ll make sure he learns the same thing that I had to learn: That not having Liam does not mean we won’t be okay. We can still be happy.

“Say hi to Daddy,” I murmur as we stop in front of a gravestone. In engraved black letters, it says:

LIAM JONATHAN BERKSHIRE
MARCH 03, 1975 – APRIL 30, 2005
A LOVING HERO, HUSBAND, AND FATHER

“He was a soldier, you know,” I tell Andy as I bend down and pick him up out of his stroller. “He was very brave.”

“Da,” Andy says again and removes his fist from his mouth to point at the tombstone. I place him on the ground and, while holding his hands for support, he walks over to it. I let go of his hands and he rests them on the top of the cool granite, then looks up at me with wide eyes and repeats, “Da.”

“Daddy. Yeah,” I nod solemnly, wondering if he really knows the word or if he’s just cooing nonsense. I bend down next to my son and place a hand next to his. “Well, Liam, here we are.”

I let out a long sigh that is filled with so many things that words simply cannot express. “Andy is one today. He’s beautiful; I wish you could see him,” I go on. “It’s been lonely without you, but we’re okay. At least I think we are. I’m getting better, at least. I’m happy. And I love Andy more than I thought could ever be possible.” Andy’s looking up at me with a somewhat worried expression because my eyes are watering. “It’s all right, Andy,” I whisper and give him a reassuring smile. “Mommy’s just saying hi.”

I turn my attention back to the grave. “Thank you, Liam. Thank you so much. Thank you for Andy, because without him I really would be alone. And thank you for telling me that everything would be okay. Because you were right. Without you words, I would never be able to push through. I cry a lot still, but that’s okay. Because I remember to laugh, too. Just like I promised.”

I smile and wipe my tears. Finally I stand up, picking up Andy with me. “Well baby,” I say, looking at him, “it’s just you and me now. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

I put him back in the stroller and head towards the exit of the cemetery. Behind me, Liam’s grave fades in the distance, and the past and the pain and the memories are nothing more but echoes in the wind. Ahead of me, a sunny August day awaits me. Andrew is beginning to cry and I know it’s time for him to eat. I move forward, staring straight ahead except once; I glance backwards at Liam’s grave one more time, just as a reassurance that all that happiness really did happen. I will miss him, but I will not dwell in our memories. I have a baby to raise, and I have made a vow that Andrew is going to grow into a man that will make his father proud.

It’s just like Liam had said: With death, comes life. And we have a hell of a lot more to live.