8. GOODBYES

JULIET, GOODBYES

Luke and the others end up staying with us for three days before they’re able to return home. We don’t get a lot of snow but what there is gets blown around excessively for days, making visibility poor and causing large drifts. I easily adapt to cooking for a larger group again and with Luke’s help in the kitchen, every meal prep goes quickly and easily. He volunteers to help, insisting it is the least he can do and a couple of the other guys insist on being the clean-up crew which makes it nice for me. I’m always happy to take a break from doing the dishes!

Luke and I spend a lot of time together while they’re here – he’s wonderful with the girls and they both take to him, asking to be picked up and carried all of the time. We play card games when the girls are asleep and talk casually about… everything. I think I now know more about Luke than I ever did about Markus – as odd as that is to say.

I never knew who Markus’ third grade teacher was – but I know Luke’s.

It is a tremendous time and I enjoy spending it with him immensely – in all we have a great few days and it is hard to see them leave. In theory, none of them will be back for a third of a year, when they’ll return for their next supply pick up but Luke promises to visit sooner - I guess we’ll see.

It is a harder goodbye than it should be.

The days and weeks following their absence are filled with chores and other make-work projects as winter refuses to release her grip. The temperatures plunge to colder than I’ve ever experienced before and there are days that pass where the girls and I don’t bother leaving the cabin – it’s just too cold to worry about taking them out. Quentin takes care of the few tasks needed to keep the lodge going while the girls and I hunker down in our cabin.

We mark the one-year anniversary of the worst day of our lives quietly and alone, with no ceremony to mark the occasion or even flowers on his grave since we’re not there to place them. Believing he’s with us at all times in our hearts, I do my best version of Markus’ favourite dinner on my hot plate – spaghetti and meat sauce with tossed greens and homemade cheese toast. The toast turns out half dough and half burned but the girls love the pasta and the subsequent bath that is required. After I put them to bed, I take my glass of cider – no wine yet since I’m still nursing – and sit by the fire.

“Oh honey, I can’t believe you’ve been gone a year already,” I whisper to the flames. Tears are flowing freely down my face and I make no move to brush them away. I sit quietly and cry for awhile before finding my words again. “I miss you so much, Markus. Do you know we have two beautiful daughters? I named them Sophia and Bridget – just like we talked about,” I tell him and I swear the fire grows larger briefly in response. Hopeful that my husband has seen his girls or at least knows of them, a small smile finds it’s way onto my face while I continue to cry. Whether Markus knows of them or not, my girls will never know their father, they will always be denied that privilege and that breaks my heart. I sit quietly for awhile, crying and drinking my cider. It is a while before I am able to speak again.

“I love you Markus – I always will. The girls are going to know about who their father was – I promise,” and they will. I have spoken of him since the day they were born, they will always know of the father that was unfairly stolen from them. Markus and I had been together forever – since I started dating – he was my one and only, there was never anyone else.

I never needed anyone else.

“You’ll always be in my heart, Markus, and you’ll always be a part of our lives but I need to let you go my love,” I sob, my heart breaking as I betray the only man I have ever loved. How can I even think about possibly dating someday? I committed my heart to Markus – I promised to love him forever, never expecting that death would in fact part us so fucking soon… but it has. I have lived this past year existing for my daughters and nothing else – if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be here.

I know this to be fact.

I also know this isn’t healthy.

As impossible as it seems, as painful as it is – I need to let my grief and guilt go. I’m a twenty-three-year-old woman, I can’t and won’t spend the next – hopefully – sixty years of my life alone or living solely for my children.

It isn’t fair to them and it isn’t fair to me.

They deserve better and so do I.

I’m not saying I want to get remarried tomorrow – of course not! And I will be cautious about who gets to see the girls – I know not everyone is going to make the cut and I’m going to need to protect them, my babies will always remain my number one priority.

“I know that if the day comes and I love another it doesn’t mean I love you any less Markus, it just means I have finally come to love myself more.” I break down entirely, relieved to have the words said because I was having a difficult time admitting them to my own self, until I heard them. Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting the past – that will never happen. I only need to look at either one of my daughters to be reminded of the husband and love that I lost and I hope someday it’ll comfort and soothe, instead of hurting and ache.

“I love you Markus,” I whisper softly, closing my eyes in a ridiculous attempt to stem the tide of tears. This is the downside of true love – the grief is so all-encompassing it will eat you from the inside out if you let it. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I bend over in the chair and hug myself as I wail silently – sorrow for the loss of what should have been but also joy for the time we did have and the two miracles that resulted. So much pain,

so much grief,

so much loss,

so much sorrow – it’s time for it to end.

“Goodbye, Markus.”