by Marie Force
Thank you, Darren! He can’t wait to meet you, too.
Darren has been a good friend to me since I lost Patrick. He’s one of the people who has surprised me in a good way, unlike many others who’ve surprised me by keeping their distance.
“Mom, will you watch him for a minute while I take a quick shower?”
“Of course, honey. Take your time.”
Even though I’m so sore I can barely breathe, I rush through a shower, blow-dry my hair and put on a bit of makeup so I won’t look too awful when they come. I dress for comfort in a pair of Patrick’s sweats and one of his T-shirts.
Since I’ve taken a tiny bit of care with my appearance, I ask my mom to take a picture of Dylan and me that I post to Instagram and Facebook, tagging Patrick’s still-open accounts with this caption: Welcome to the world, Dylan Patrick Connolly, born on your daddy’s 32nd birthday and weighing in at six pounds, two ounces and nineteen inches long. We are so in love with you, Dylan.
For a long moment, I stare at the words that will come as a shock to ninety percent of the people we know, most of whom have no idea I was even pregnant before I attach the picture and post it to both platforms. “You’re Facebook and Insta official now,” I tell my son, who looks up at me with big eyes that remind me so much of his father’s.
The flood of comments is immediate and full of surprise and congratulations.
I get a text from Sarah. Oh my God! You had a baby!?!? Way to keep secrets! Congratulations! I love that he was born on Patrick’s birthday.
Me, too, and thanks.
I change and feed him so he’ll be ready to meet his other grandparents. By the time they arrive, he’s sitting with his back against my thighs, gurgling and gnawing on his own fingers.
My mom lets in the Connollys, who greet my parents like they’re old friends. I give my parents credit for keeping things cordial, even though they’re angry about what Susan said to me.
“Come in.” They both look stricken to be walking into Patrick’s home for the first time since the dreadful week that followed his death. “Come meet Dylan.”
Susan sits next to me while Pete bends over the back of the sofa for a closer look at his grandson.
“Oh my,” Susan says softly. “He looks just like Patrick did as a baby. Doesn’t he, Pete?”
“He sure does.”
Mom comes to sit on the arm of the sofa, next to me. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Yes, he is,” Susan says as she contends with a waterfall of tears. “I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s so hard to meet Patrick’s son when he isn’t here.”
“It sure is,” I say. “But I feel like he’s close by, keeping an eye on us.”
“Do you?” Susan asks. “I never feel him around me.”
“It’s more a sense of his presence than anything concrete.”
“You’re lucky to have that and to have his son as a daily reminder of him.”
“We’re all lucky to have Dylan,” Mom says. “He’s a lovely gift in this difficult time.”
I feel like I should hold my breath as I anticipate an explosion from one or both of my parents if Susan so much as hints at Derek and me being inappropriate in any way. That she could even say a thing like that is appalling.
He and I haven’t been in any way inappropriate, but there’s no way I can convince her of that. She’s going to believe what she wants to, regardless of the truth. As these thoughts cycle through my mind, I’m as angry as I’ve been in a very long time.
Dylan begins to fuss, so I take him from her and get up to move around with him.
Words are burning on the tip of my tongue, words that once spoken can never be taken back. Old Roni would’ve kept the peace at all costs. Widowed Roni isn’t quite so willing to accommodate the feelings of others at her own expense.
“I need to say something.”
24
Roni
All four of them look at me. Before I can lose my courage, I look directly at Susan. “What you said earlier hurt me very deeply. You made it seem like I’ve been behaving inappropriately as I mourned the tragic and sudden loss of my husband. The truth is every single day I have to force myself to get out of bed, to keep breathing, to keep moving forward, to find joy anywhere I can and to remain hopeful despite the aching absence of the person I love best in the whole world. I had to go through an entire pregnancy without the father of my child to hold my hand, to rub my back, to indulge my cravings, to tell me I’m beautiful even when I felt horrible.”
I look Susan directly in the eye. “Your loss is unbearable. I’ve had one day with Dylan, and I already know that if anything ever happened to him, it would break me in a way that even losing Patrick didn’t. But for you to judge how I or any other widow or widower chooses to handle the loss of the person we expected to spend the rest of our lives with is just grossly unfair, especially as you sit by your husband of thirty-something years, having never experienced widowhood.”
My dad, who’s standing off to the side where the others can’t see him, raises his fist in support of me.
“I have loved your family like my own for all the years I spent with Patrick. I want you to play a huge role in the life of our son, but you’ll never again judge me for the choices I make for myself as I try to rebuild my life without my husband. Are we clear on that?”
“Yes,” Pete says while Susan weeps silently. “We’ve always loved you, too, Roni, and we very much want to be part of Dylan’s life.”
“To be part of Dylan’s life, you have to be part of mine, which means accepting my choices. If Patrick hadn’t died, I never would’ve looked at another man for the rest of my life, and you know that.”
“Yes, we do,” Pete says. “We know that.”
“Susan, tell me you know that.”
She nods as she wipes away tears. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but it hurts me to see you with someone else.”
“I understand, and I’m sorry it hurts you. But having Derek’s support through the worst year of my life has been instrumental in me surviving it. He’s been where I am. He knows what it’s like, and his friendship, and that of all the other widows and widowers I’ve met, has been a lifeline to me.”
“Are you two… Are you together?”
“Not yet, officially, but we will be eventually. We're taking things very slowly. I still have significant healing to do."
“You know for certain you’re going to be with him?”
“Yes. I know it the same way I did when I met Patrick. Some things are just that simple, Susan, and that complicated. I certainly didn’t go looking for a new relationship. What I have with Derek has grown from a place of intense grief and sorrow and has given me hope that not every day for the rest of my life is going to hurt the way the last eight months have.” A surge of emotion threatens to cut me off at the knees, but I’m determined to get through this without losing my composure. “No matter what happens with Derek, or anyone else, for that matter, nothing will ever change or diminish the love I have for Patrick. I’ll take him with me everywhere I go forever. I’ll never stop saying his name or honoring his memory. You have my word on that.”
“Thank you,” she says softly. “Thank you for remembering him.”
“Always.”
“About his things…”
I’ve avoided going through anything of Patrick’s because I just haven’t had it in me. “What about them?”
“There are a few things we’d like to have. Kristy would love to have some of his records, and Kelsey wants one of his shirts.” They’re his older brother’s daughters. “The boys would probably like his some of the baseball cards.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t gotten to dealing with his things before now. Why don’t we pick a Saturday in the next few weeks and go through everything together? Would that work?”
“Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”
I sit next to her with Dylan cradled in one arm and put my free hand on top of hers. “Let’s keep talkin
g, okay? There’s no need for us to be on opposite sides of this awful loss. Patrick wouldn’t want that for any of us.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
* * *
I feel so much better after clearing the air with them, and over the next few weeks, I talk to Susan more often than I have since the first week Patrick died. The Wild Widows are proud of me when I tell them how I stood up to my mother-in-law and called her out for judging me.
“I just want to say that without you guys, I never would’ve had the language I needed or the courage to tell her how much it hurt me,” I convey to them when I return to a meeting for the first time since Dylan was born. Most of them have been to visit us, however.
“We’re so proud of you, Roni,” Joy says. “That’s the way to set your boundaries and let people know your expectations.”
“It felt good to speak my truth.”
“You’re amazing, Roni,” Brielle says. “It takes a lot of guts to speak up like that.”
“My knees were shaking the whole time, but I didn’t cry. That was important to me.”
We move on to other people after that, but I bask in the glow of their approval. I’m totally slaying this widow game, which is a sentence I never expected I’d say or think, but alas, here I am, getting it done and even figuring out single motherhood. It’s easier at the moment because I’m on maternity leave until Labor Day. The real test will be when I go back to work full time, but Shelby Hill’s nanny has agreed to care for Dylan, too—with a nice pay raise. I’m thrilled that Dylan will be upstairs while I’m at work and will have Shelby’s kids to play with.
That night is the first I hear of the Wild Widows retreat weekend in Bethany Beach, Delaware, that Iris and Brielle are planning for late October. They’ve rented two houses next door to each other right on the beach, and everyone is excited about the prospect of getting away together.
I glance at Derek and find him looking at me. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am—a weekend away, perhaps kid-free…
I squash that thought into the back of my mind where all such thoughts about him will reside until October 10 has come and gone, marking a full year without my beloved husband.
On a gorgeous late-June Saturday, Patrick’s family comes to help me go through his things, to take what they want and to help me complete the dreaded task of packing up a life that ended far too soon. I went through everything before they came and boxed up the things I wanted for myself and Dylan, so I tell them they can have anything that’s left. Derek and Maeve have been in Vegas with his parents visiting his brother’s family this week and are due home later today. My parents have taken Dylan for a few hours so I can devote myself to my in-laws.
Patrick’s younger niece Kristy is in tears as she meticulously packs the record collection into special boxes she bought. “He’d have slapped my hand if I ever touched his records,” Kristy says, smiling through her tears.
“Oh, me, too,” I tell her. “I always did it wrong. I put him in charge of all record handling so I wouldn’t have to hear his critique of how disrespectful I was.”
“That sounds about right,” Kristy says.
Kelsey comes out of the bedroom wearing one of Patrick’s favorite flannel shirts. “Remember the time he showed up to the black-tie fundraiser wearing this shirt?” Kelsey asks.
“As if I could ever forget,” Susan says. “I was mortified.”
“‘No one told me it was formal!’” we all say together before dissolving into laughter that’s followed quickly by tears.
“Tell me it’s going to get easier someday,” Kelsey says as she hugs me.
“I wish I could promise you that. I think there’s always going to be a sharp ache where he used to be.”
“Yeah, probably so.”
We force ourselves to go through everything, and when we’re done, there are twenty boxes stacked in my dining room that’ll be picked up by a local charity on Monday. Susan orders pizza, and we end up telling funny stories about Patrick that cap off our day with laughter and more tears.
“Thank you for this,” Susan says when she hugs me goodbye. “It meant so much to us to have this time in the home Patrick loved so much, with the woman he loved so much.”
“I appreciate the help with a task I’ve been putting off.”
“Understandably so.” Susan glances at the boxes in the dining room. “I remember when we did this after my mother died, how I felt then as I do now, like we’re erasing someone’s life like it never happened.”
“As long as we continue to talk about him, he lives on in all of us.”
“That’s very true,” Susan says with a sad sigh.
“I admire how you’ve handled yourself this year, Roni,” Pete says. “It can’t have been easy.”
“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of wonderful support that’s been critical. The new job has helped, too.”
“We’ll see you for Kelsey’s shower, if not before?” Susan asks.
“I’ll be there.” I was dreading Kelsey’s wedding in November, but after being with them today, I feel better about a lot of things.
My parents bring Dylan back, and I’ve just finished nursing him when Derek arrives an hour later.
I rush into his arms, thrilled and relieved to see him after a seemingly endless week apart. “Missed you guys so much.”
He hugs me tighter than he ever has before, and I can tell he’s dying to kiss me. “We missed you guys, too. Longest week ever. Next time, you and Dylan have to come with us.”
“We’d love that. Where’s Maeve?”
“My parents wanted to see her, and I wasn’t sure how you’d feel after the job today. How’d it go?”
“Not bad, all things considered. It’s amazing what I can do in months nine and ten that would’ve been inconceivable in months one through six.”
“Grief is like fitness—the more you do, the better you get at it.”
“That’s an interesting metaphor.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is.”
“I remember my mom and I packing up Vic’s things. It was brutal—and far too soon for me to be doing it, but I just wanted it all gone so I didn’t have to see it every day. With hindsight, that was a mistake. I wasn’t ready.”
“I’m sorry that was hard for you. I’m glad I waited. It felt right to do it now.”
“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about the other night?”
“Refresh my memory,” I say, smiling, as if I’ve thought of anything else since he first pitched the idea of us getting a place together for the four of us when we were on one of the marathon phone calls that got us through this week apart.
“It went something like this—your lease is up at the end of the year. I’d like to move out of the place where my wife was murdered. Maeve and I would like to live with you and Dylan so I don’t have to constantly hear how she wants to go to Ron’s to see Dyl. It’d be so much easier if we all lived together. Oh, and I love you and want to be with you every minute that I can.”
I feel the same way I did the first time he pitched this idea to me—excited, happy, optimistic and a little bit afraid because loving someone means worrying about losing him. Since it’s happened before.
“Earth to Roni. Come in, Roni. Are you with me?”
“I’m with you, and I think we should look around and see what’s available.”
“You do? Really?”
“Yes, really.” I smile at the excitement I hear in his voice even as I ache at the thought of leaving the home Patrick and I made together. “But we need to stay in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. I love it here.”
“I do, too. We’ll find something close that works for all of us.”
“Will you bring your meal-planning skills to our new home?” I ask him. He’s been making dinner for all of us for months, usually at my house to accommodate Dylan’s erratic schedule.
“Do I have to?”
“Oh yea
h, you’ve got me spoiled.”
With a deep, overly dramatic sigh, he says, “All right, then. I’ll do that and the grocery shopping if you’ll do the laundry.”
I hold out my hand to him. “Deal.”
He takes my hand and kisses the back of it, sending a zing of sensation all the way through me. “Deal.”
“Are we really doing this?”
“We really are.”
“What if…” I bite my lip as I try to find the courage to ask the question that’s been on my mind a lot since we began stumbling our way toward a more permanent arrangement.
“What? You can ask me anything. You know that.”
I do know that. He’s so easy to talk to, which is one of many things I love about him. “What if things between us don’t work out? We haven’t even slept together, and we’re talking about moving in. What if we’re a bust in the bedroom?”
His cackle of laughter is the best thing ever because it takes a lot to get him to really laugh, although he laughs more than he used to.
“I’m serious!”
“We’re not going to be a bust in the bedroom, Veronica.”
“How do you know that, Derek?”
“You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. How many more months until we can find out?”
“Three, or is it four?”
“I’m going to spontaneously combust before then. That’s how I know we’re going to be fine.”
“In case I forget to tell you, I appreciate that you’re giving me this time and waiting for me to be ready.”
“In case I forget to tell you, I have a feeling that waiting for you is going to be the smartest thing I ever did.”
* * *
Derek
I’m going to die from wanting her long before October rolls around. I’ve never been a guy who was led around by his dick until I had to put my feelings for Roni on ice so she could see through her year of mourning for Patrick. I totally get why that’s important to her. I waited for more than a year after I lost Vic before I went out one night looking to get laid and got exactly what I wanted, even if I was heartsick for days afterward.
