Megan's Way

by Melissa Foster

  “When did she tell you that? That’s pretty deep,” Holly said.

  “Not for Megan. Remember who we’re talking about here,” Jack said, and they all agreed with a little laugh. “We must have been about twelve or so. It was at summer camp. The camp mascot was this dog, a huge newfoundland that had thick chocolate brown fur.” He looked in the mirror at Olivia again. “Its fur was exactly like your mother’s hair.”

  Olivia smiled.

  “Anyway, the dog had been there every summer, for like a hundred summers. That summer, it died. We were all really sad. He was the biggest, happiest dog we had ever seen! His name was Lacky, like the camp, Lakamar. Anyway, when he died, all of us kids got together and held a ceremony for him. Megan, of course, was the leader. Even back then she could hold a wicked ritual!” Jack adjusted himself in his seat and took a deep breath.

  “So there we were, all gathered around the bonfire by the lake, and your mother, Olivia, was hosting this service.

  She took us back through each summer with Lacky. She must have talked for forty or fifty minutes, way too long for a bunch of kids, but she held our attention like she was a real live movie. Anyway, she described the summers with him and how wonderful he was, and in the end, when everyone was brought to tears, she put her hands on her hips and said, ‘We can’t sit and cry over Lacky! Why, he’s still here with us! Don’t you feel him?’ And everyone concurred, nodded, and she dove right in again. ‘His soul is right over there!’ Jack pointed for emphasis. ‘His body might be lifeless, but it’s just like an empty peanut shell. His soul has already moved on! His soul is everywhere!’ everyone cheered and laughed, and suddenly Lacky’s dying wasn’t so bad anymore. We all felt like he was right there with us, thanks to your mom.”

  Olivia imagined her mother at twelve years old, taking charge of the group and making everyone see the bright side of the dog’s death.

  “That sounds like Megan!” Holly said with a smile. “Livi, are you okay with our decision to hold a small ceremony now and a private ceremony later?”

  Olivia looked up from her lap, “Yes. That’s what I want. I think everyone who knew Mom needs to be able to say goodbye,” she looked out the window again, “but I think she would have wanted us all to say goodbye privately, too.”

  Peter straightened his tie and tried to mentally prepare for Megan’s ceremony. He still could not believe she was gone. It was as if her life had happened in fast forward, at least that’s how it felt to him. He felt cheated, ripped off, like he didn’t get enough time with her, but then he felt guilty for feeling that way, after all, he was not Olivia, the one who really deserved more time with her.

  There was something about Megan, something more alive than he’d ever felt in any other human being. She had kept her eye on what she had wanted out of life, and had never let people dissuade her from following her dreams.

  Peter inspected his face in the mirror, which to his surprise, looked to him much as it did when he was younger. He put his face closer to the mirror, peered deeper into his own eyes, and wondered why he saw emptiness there. It was no wonder at all, really, he mused. He knew why he saw emptiness in his own eyes when Megan’s reflected a full life up until the moment she died.

  “Damn it,” Peter murmured as he walked away from the mirror. On his way to the door, he passed by a photo of himself and his father. He picked it up and touched the delicate lines of the antique frame. He remembered when the picture had been taken, a few months before his mother left him and his father. He looked closely at his father in his white t-shirt, khaki pants, brown shoes, and full head of hair which was slicked back with something like Brylcreem. Peter wondered why his mother had left them. Was it really so bad for her, taking care of them? He peered into his father’s eyes for the answer, but saw nothing of consequence. He saw a contented man.

  Peter had few memories of his mother. Sometimes he couldn’t decipher what was real and what was merely hope. She had not been beautiful, that he remembered. She had been an average-looking woman with short dark hair and a fine figure. He didn’t remember her hugging him much, though he remembered his father’s full embrace, long, strong, and often. His mother, it seemed to him, was always milling around the kitchen or ironing. He remembered that sometimes she read books to him.

  Peter did remember longing for a real mother, though, and the memory was painful. He remembered visiting his friends’ houses where the mothers were always baking cookies, setting up crafts for them, or playing games. He remembered long hugs his friends would receive, with a firmly planted kiss on his forehead; his friends always cringed and tried to pull away, and all the while Peter was hoping the mothers would grab him and slather him with that kind of love.

  “Why’d you do it, Ma?” Peter whispered, though he knew he could ask the question one hundred times and never receive an answer.

  He had asked his father once, and only once, “Dad, why did Mommy leave us?”

  His father’s stern response had told him the subject was off limits, “Your mother didn’t leave us, son, she was running away from herself.”

  That answer left Peter wondering how someone could run away from herself, and why she would want to. He pictured someone running in circles while peeking behind her, like a dog chasing its tail. For years this vision haunted him.

  His grandmother wasn’t much help, either. “There are just some people in this world that weren’t meant to be tied down,” she had said, “and your mother was one of them.”

  That comment left him with even worse visions of his mother tied down somewhere in the house when he wasn’t around, which led to him worrying that his father was some kind of monster that he hadn’t found out about yet. But that fear faded fast, as his father always woke him with a kindness that lingered through the days and into the nights. It was a kindness that permeated his being. When he went to school, he knew his father would always be there upon his return. He didn’t worry that he might disappear as his mother did.

  His father’s job at the steel mill was flexible, so he could work while Peter was at school, and then again at night after Peter was in bed sleeping, when Mrs. Waters would come and sit at the house, but Peter hadn’t known about the latter. He hadn’t known that his father went back to work while he slept. He was told after a few years had passed since his mother had left. His father had mentioned it in passing, having assumed it was prior knowledge for Peter.

  At first it had scared Peter a little to know that his father had left him at night, but then, he came to revel in the fact that his father always came back, which was something his mother never did.

  As his mind vacillated between thoughts of Megan and of his father, he realized that he had been living his life just as Megan had pointed out. He’d been afraid to commit. Peter placed the frame gently back on the table and whispered, mostly to himself, “Goodbye, Mom.” He then picked up the phone to call Cruz.

  Megan hovered above and watched the small gathering take shape. She was pleased that they had chosen the nauset Lighthouse property to hold the gathering. Never one for conventional religion, she would have been disappointed if the ceremony had been held at a temple. Megan held her breath as Holly and Jack arrived with Olivia in tow. She was so beautiful, and yet her face, her eyes, looked as though she had aged five years in a few short days.

  Oh, my baby girl. I am so sorry. Megan reached out, yearning to touch Olivia, to make her feel safe and happy once again, though she knew it was a hopeless feat. She could not touch Olivia from her new world.

  Sadness permeated Megan’s form, as if a heavy cloud had overwhelmed her and weighed her down. Tears streamed from her eyes as she realized that her lower form was rapidly turning a sad shade of gray. She somehow knew this was reflective of Olivia’s sadness. She also knew that she could not fix her daughter’s despair. She was gone. gone! Her tears turned to sobs, and were quickly swept away into a path as rough as a raging river, snaking its way to a nearby cloud. She watched the sun disappear and felt
, more than saw, Olivia look up toward the sky.

  Megan didn’t know what remained in her form that was now her body, but if she had a heart, it was lifted at the thought of Olivia finding her above.

  Holly and Jack were unaware that Olivia had stopped walking, and they continued toward the lighthouse. Olivia, however, stood in the dune grass, just past the parking lot, and looked up at the shadowy cloud, unable to put her arms around the emotions and feelings that swam within her. Sad? nervous? Angry? Mostly, she just felt empty—empty as a dark well with no water to fill it up. Somehow, she thought she would be prepared for the day. She’d seen the need to say goodbye, and she had thought she’d be strong enough to see it through without hysterics. She knew it would be hard, but she hadn’t imagined the despair that she now felt; nausea, pain, and tumult boiled in her belly.

  The sky changed from a gloriously sunny day to suddenly murky and gray. Funny, that’s just how I feel, Olivia thought to herself. She felt her mother’s presence. She could not say why, or how, or even what made her feel that it was her mother. Yet somehow she was certain that her mother was near. She looked to the sky and mouthed, Mom. She knew, then, that she was not alone, and her pain subsided. She was not empty. Her mother was nearby.

  Peter reached his hand across the front seat and said, “I’m glad you are here.” He smiled and squeezed Cruz’s hand.

  As they rounded the curve into the parking lot, they saw Olivia standing alone in the grass, looking up at the sky. Peter maneuvered the car into a parking space.

  Cruz’s voice was deep, reassuring. “Of course, Peter.”

  His eyes peered directly into Peter’s heart. “I’m always here for you. Don’t you know that?”

  Peter could not bring himself to speak. His heart was soft, his emotions raw. He had lost one of his best friends, and because of her, he had begun to open himself to another. He stared into Cruz’s eyes for a full two minutes before Cruz broke the gaze and nodded towards Olivia.

  “Do you think she’s okay?” Cruz asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’m not okay, I can’t imagine that she is,” Peter said.

  “Let’s go. She needs someone right now, and you are special to her.”

  Cruz’s understanding warmed Peter, who realized he’d made the right decision to trust Cruz. He hugged Cruz, thanked him.

  Together they walked toward Olivia, who looked as though she were in a trance. She stared up at the clouds, her long thin arms hung loosely at her sides. The wind blew wispy strands of her hair across her face. She looked surprisingly peaceful on what was sure to be a heart-wrenching day. Peter caught a glimpse of Holly walking toward Olivia and held his hand up as if to say, “I’ve got her. It’s okay.” Holly smiled, waved, and walked back toward Jack.

  “Hey, baby girl,” Peter said gently, placing his hand on Olivia’s shoulder, and turning his own eyes up toward the sky.

  Olivia’s body stiffened. “That’s what Mom always called me,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry. I just say what I feel when I see you,” Peter said with a soft smile. He reached out and took Olivia’s hand. “Are you okay? is this going to be too much for you?” he asked.

  “She’s here, Peter. It’s okay,” Olivia said and looked again toward the sky.

  Cruz and Peter exchanged a look of concern.

  “Of course she is,” Peter said gently. “She will always be here, Olivia. She is part of you now. You carry her in your heart.” He reached up and carefully wiped a tear from Olivia’s cheek.

  Olivia, still looking up toward the sky, said, “Peter, she’s here. That’s her,” she pointed to the gray cloud. “She took my feelings and made them real. She made today gray instead of sunny.”

  As Peter opened his mouth to speak, Cruz tenderly touched Peter’s arm and shook his head. He moved closer to Olivia and looked up at the sky with her.

  “You know, honey, I think you’re right. Peter’s told me about the connection you two have always had.” Cruz kissed the top of Olivia’s head and put his strong arm around her lower back. “She loves you, sweetie,” he said.

  Olivia curled into him, and let her tears fall onto his white shirt. She looked up, sniffled, and cracked a slight smile. “How come I only see you a few times each year,” she asked, “and you still know how to make me feel better?”

  Peter placed his arms around her, and together, Cruz and Peter embraced Olivia. They absorbed the impact of her sobbing body, hoping to lessen her pain.

  Megan felt her energy drain as her form returned to its previous color. She felt light headed and could only liken it to the way she felt after being ill and not eating for a day or two, the listless, weak feeling that kept people in bed for an extra day. Was this what it would be like? As she eased into the other realm, would she simply become less there? She feared this, though she knew it was inevitable.

  Below, Peter, Cruz, and Olivia slowly parted. Each gazed up at the sky with wonder as the cloud changed from gray to white. The sun peeked out just slightly from behind. A knowing look passed between the two men.

  Hand in hand, they walked toward the lighthouse where friends and family had gathered. The tears on their faces slowly dried from the cool ocean air. Peter and Cruz guided Olivia to a seat between Holly and Jack who immediately reached out to her. Jack put his arm around her shoulder and Holly squeezed her hand. Peter and Cruz settled in next to Jack. Jack took Peter’s hand in his own.

  Jack smiled at Peter and pulled him closer. He leaned down and whispered, “It’s about time he became one of us.”

  A flush rushed up Peter’s chest to his face, and he smiled. Peter glanced at Cruz, who was still wiping tears from his eyes, and he took Cruz’s thick, strong hand in his own. Warmth ran through Peter. He knew he was in the right company. He had done the right thing.

  Megan watched her friends from above, linked like a lifeline, and reveled in her daughter’s safety. She shed tears of happiness, a gentle trickle across the sky, above the clouds, for only Megan to see.

  She marveled at how many people had shown up for the gathering. Throughout her life she had believed that she’d been somewhat invisible. She had lived her life in what felt like a closed circle of people. She couldn’t imagine that she’d touched so many lives, that she was memorable to so many.

  Megan spied Lawrence Childs amongst the crowd. A rush ran through her like a school girl waiting to be asked to dance, bringing new energy to her tired form. Touched that he would come, her hand instinctively covered her heart.

  She was surprised to see two of her college professors and many of her high school friends. She wondered how they could have heard so quickly of her passing. Moreover, she wondered why, after so many years, they would make a special trip to bid her farewell.

  Various relatives had come to say goodbye. Uncle Carl and Aunt Bettie, Uncle Mark and Aunt eva, and their children sat teary-eyed and sullen. Almost all of Megan’s cousins were in attendance. They whispered amongst themselves, wiped their sad eyes, and took turns paying their respects to Olivia.

  Megan’s biggest regret was that her mother was not there. Her mother’s health was not strong, but her love beat on like a bass drum. The three-hour trip would have been too much for her mother’s frail body to take. At seventy-five, she was cruelly stricken with Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis which caused her great pain. When Megan had swooped down the day before, she had found her mother completely fatigued, in great pain, and grasping to stay coherent. Her cognition had become even more fragile. Seeing her had made Megan weep so hard that she had ached, she had stayed a deep shade of gray all night. Megan’s newfound knowledge that her mother would soon be with her, and that her mother’s deteriorating body and pain would vanish, as hers had, lessened her anguish and helped to bring her form back to its transparent state before the arrival of her family and friends.

  Holly stood before the group to begin the ceremony. When she opened her mouth, however, she had to close it and swallow back the tears that vi
ed for release. She looked down, curled her lips inside her mouth and clenched them with her teeth. Do this for Megan. She took a deep breath and began, “Thank you all for sharing in this special day with us. Megan would be so pleased to see each of you.” A forced smile appeared and quickly faded to a quivering lip. “I’m not sure I can put into words what I feel for Megan. She is like my other half. She is my true sister. I will not say ‘was’ because, to me, Megan lives on. She lives on in Olivia.” Holly took another deep breath and gave in to her tears. “She lives on in me, and Jack, and Peter, and I am sure she lives on in each of you, as well.” Holly paced slowly by the rows of flowers at the base of the lighthouse, her fingers trailed along the petals. When she began again, her eyes sparkled behind her tears. “Megan is life itself. That’s how I think of her. She was a whirlwind when she was on earth, and I’m sure she is creating something wonderful in her afterlife. Megan grasped each day. Even when we were little, she lived each moment as if it were an adventure, a blank page in a book waiting to be filled with something exciting.” Holly stopped to catch her breath and looked at Olivia, who was holding Jack’s hand while tears streamed down her face. Holly cocked her head and furrowed her brow, as if to say, I know, honey. I’m so sorry.

  Holly spoke softly, “Once Olivia came along, Megan lived every second of her life for her. It started before she was even born. Megan inherently knew how to be a wonderful mother and gave her free time up to Olivia without concern for herself or her own needs. She relished her. Every breath she took, she took for Olivia, and it paid off, because Olivia is a vibrant, wonderful young woman.”

  Olivia flushed, openly crying.

  “I’d like to thank Megan for letting me be part of her wonderful world, and part of Olivia’s.” Holly raised her eyes toward the sky, and reached her arms up, as if by doing so she could embrace Megan one last time. “I love you, Meggie! Thank you for being you!”