A Song for a Heart So Big

I opened my eyes slowly, waiting for my eyes to focus. Once they did, I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

“Knock knock,” My dad said softly, opening the door. “How’re you feeling?”

I stared at him, debating on whether or not to lie. Considering that I loved my dad, and he knew me very well, I opted out on the truth. “Honestly? I feel like my heart has been run over by an eighteen wheeler. Over. And over. And over.”

Dad sighed knowingly and looked at me. I knew that he was going through the same thing I was. “I visited yesterday. I can’t handle it today, but you can go if you’d like.”

I nodded numbly. Most of what I did lately had involved me being numb. “I’ll take some flowers,” I said softly.

He nodded and left me alone. I sat up in bed and stayed there for what felt like ages. Just staring. At the walls, the floor, the ceiling. The places she had been. I finally got up, pulled my clothes on, then hurried out of the house as fast as I could, grabbing an apple on the way out. I couldn’t stand being in the house. Everything reminded me of her. Her smell, her laugh, her eyes, her hair, her voice. When I got up, I’d think of her making breakfast. When I went to bed, I thought of her singing me to sleep.

I drove to the nearest florist shop and bought a small bouquet of daises. They had been her favorite. I thanked the cashier and walked to my car. I drove to my destination, trying to keep my mind on the road at all times. When I reached where I had been going, I got out of the car and straightened my shirt and jeans nervously. I walked slowly, weaving around the trees and flowers. When I reached her, I sat down in front of her. I could feel my eyes tearing up, as though they hadn’t cried enough in the past week.

“Hi, mom,” I whispered, voice cracking, and I reached out and trailed my finger along the curve of the top of the headstone. I traced the letters that spelled out her name, birth and death date, and the proclamation of how much she would be missed by her patients, friends, but most of all, husband and daughter. Tears trickled down my face and I looked down. “I brought you flowers.” I placed them in the middle of the many bouquets that were already sitting there.

I realized that my legs were going numb and shifted so I was sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the grass. The grass tickled my ankles, and the sun shone on my blonde hair. It wasn’t fair that the day was so beautiful while my mother was dead.

I heard the birds chirping, and I inwardly cussed them out for sounding so cheery. “I… I miss you.” I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “I bet that you’re in Heaven, laughing at the irony of the fact that you save…” I paused, “saved people from long-term illnesses, and yet when you got hit by that car, you were gone. Instantly. No pain. No suffering. I’m…” Tears slid down my face, but I didn’t bother o wipe them away. I knew more would soon follow.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could manage to get out past the lump in my throat. I sat in front of her headstone for hours in silence. By the time the sun was setting, I started singing. “There’s no one in town I know… you gave us some place to go. I never said thank you for that.” I took a shaky breath. “Thought I might get one more chance…” I looked at the sky, trying to blink back tears. But this was helping. I could feel it, feel it in my chest, in my throat, in my soul. “So what would you think of me now? So lucky; so strong; so proud. I never said thank you for that… now I’ll never have a chance.” I reached out and stroked the petals of the daisies. I could feel Mom when I touched them. I could feel her love, her warmth. “May angels lead you in. Hear you me, my friends. On sleepless roads, the sleepless go, may angels lead you in. So what would you think of me now?” My soprano voice soared through the air, into the sky, the tune and octave higher than the original song. Mom had always loved it when I sang an octave higher along with songs. “So lucky; so strong; so proud. I never said thank you for that. Now I’ll never have a chance.”

The sun was almost done setting, and I continued to sing, knowing, feeling, that she could hear me. I closed my eyes, and my voice wrapped around me in a breeze, lifting into the sky, past the sky, past anything any science could ever go, and into a place of pure love.

I took a deep, slow breath. The euphoric feeling was slinking away little by little, as I arrived back on Earth and began to remember. “And if you were with me tonight… I’d sing to you, just one more time. A song for a heart…” My voice cracked, and the lump in my throat returned, bigger than ever. I tried again. “A song for a heart so big.” My voice wavered, and the silence set it.

“God couldn’t let it live,” a soft voice continued for me.

I turned my head slowly, and my eyes spotted a pair of Vans. They traveled up until they reach a pair of soft brown eyes. “I’m Chris,” the boy told me softly. He had brown hair and tan skin. “Do you mind?” He gestured to the ground beside me.

I patted the space beside me. This was the first contact I had had in a while with a person other than my dad. “I’m Emily.”

Chris sat down beside me. “Here.” He put a jar full of fireflies in front of me. “When my dad died, I spent about every day here. But one day, an old woman came over to me and told me that she had noticed me, and that I couldn’t spend my life in mourning. I told her that I couldn’t find a life worth living for, and she just about hit me with her cane. She came back later that night with a jar of fireflies and told me to open them when I felt like it. She left, and I never saw her again.”

“So… did you open the jar?” I asked curiously.

He nodded. “Hours after she left, I opened the jar, very curious about how this would help me at all. When I let them free, the air was filled with millions of little fireflies, creating beauty in their dance. And I couldn’t help but think, ‘Times like these make life worth living for.’ And I realized that I had to move on, ‘cause that’s what Dad would’ve wanted me to. He would’ve smacked me upside the head and gruffly told me to move the hell on, because he loved me and he didn’t spend sixteen years raising me just so I’d kill myself.” Chris studied the fireflies in the jar, then raised his eyes to meet mine. “This might be slightly inappropriate, but if you ever want to get in touch…” He placed a piece of paper on the lid of the jar.

I nodded slightly, smiling at this wondrous boy. I grabbed the slip of paper and slid it into my pocket.

Chris leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Bye, Emily.” He smiled at me, got to his feet, and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

I looked at the jar. It illuminated the gravestone and flowers in the black night. I stared at the jar for ages, until curiosity overwhelmed me. I placed my hand on the lid of the jar. Suddenly, I felt panic surge through me. What if it couldn’t help me? What if nothing happened, no epiphany, no magic feeling happened? What if I walked away from it all feeling worse than before?

You’ll never know if you don't try.

Heart pounding, I wrenched the lid off the jar, eyes closed, and it was as if the sun exploded behind my eyelids. All I saw was white light. I opened my eyes and studied the scene before me through my eyelashes. What I saw awed me in spite of my fears, and I opened my eyes fully, stupefied at the scene before me.

Millions of fireflies danced through the air. They lit up the night, looking like little firecrackers in the night. I looked down at gravestone, and I heard my mother’s voice in my head. I closed my eyes and relished in her voice, sighing out loud at the familiar sound. I saw bright white lights dancing behind my eyelids as my mom told me that everything would be just fine. Then she sang, in her rich alto voice, sang me the song she used to as a child, and I laid down on the grass, feeling warmth spread through me.

When it was over, I opened my eyes. Most of the lightning bugs had fled into the darkness, though some lingered. I smiled to myself and leaned down to kiss my mother’s headstone. “Bye, mom,” I said softly, and stayed still for a moment, then stood up. I turned around and felt my worries, my sadness, unravel, and I walked above the Earth in my euphoria. I was no longer numb. I could feel again.

I could live again.

I got my keys out and felt a piece of paper. Chris. I took the slip out and smiled, clutching it in my hand. I didn’t let go of it, not even when I got home. My dad was asleep, so I snuck in quietly. I peeled my clothes off and pulled on an over-sized tee, then crawled into bed.

I fell asleep with the piece of paper in my hand.