“I love Mom and Annie, so, no,” I answer simply. It hurts to know they’ll never know the truth, but I understand that going through half your life and then learning that the one person who always cared for you withheld the truth about who you are, might be too painful to comprehend, no matter the reason. I have to live with this fact, but no one in our family deserves any more pain after the suffering that’s already been done.
“Thank you,” Grams says. “You are just like me, you know that?”
I smile, unable to respond with words that will do justice. I don’t think I have done enough to deserve a comparison to her strength and greatness, but the fact that she thinks I do, means everything to me.
“Mom and Annie are supposed to be here in a few minutes,” I tell them.
“I’m your grandmother’s close friend from before the war. We grew up together, and I happened to see her name on the wall as I was visiting another sick patient,” Charlie says.
“Close friend?” Grams asks him. “That part is the truth. The part where we fell in love and had a daughter together is something we’ll just keep between us,” Grams says as she beams with utter happiness.
“You’re sure about this surgery tomorrow?” I ask Grams one last time.
“Yes, and I need you to back me up with your mother and aunt, all right?”
“I promise,” I agree.
As expected, Mom and Annie walk in with coffees in hand.
“Good morning, Mom,” Annie says, before noticing a man sitting in the visitor seat. “Oh, who’s this?”
Charlie is gazing at Annie and Mom. He clears his throat after a long second. “I’m—I’m Charlie,” he says, standing from his chair to offer his hand to each of them.
“Charlie,” Mom says as if she’s running the name through her head, trying to place it. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.” She reaches over for his hand, looking at him quizzically as if she’s trying to dissect his thoughts. Next, Mom glances at me questioningly, but I shrug.
“Are you a friend of my mom’s?” Annie asks.
“Indeed. Amelia and I are old, old dear friends. I saw your mother’s name on the wall as I was visiting another patient, and it seemed too good to be true.”
“Sure does,” Annie says with a bit of apprehension. “Mom has mentioned a ‘Charlie’ several times in the past week. Is this the same Charlie, Mom?” She’s studying Charlie intently but doesn’t haven’t much else to say. Annie has no idea she has met him before.
“Yes,” Grams says without elaborating. “What a coincidence, huh? This is Charlie, and he’s right; we go way back. He’s a dear old friend, and I’m glad he found me today.”
Annie takes a moment to look between Grams and Charlie again, and I can tell she’s more curious than she’s letting on. “Oh, that explains it. She must have seen him walking around the hospital,” Annie says. “Well, it’s so nice to meet you, Charlie. Any friend of Mom’s is a friend of ours, of course.”
Charlie is quieter than he’s been since we picked him up, and I feel a need to leave the room before I give anything away with my facial expressions since Mom knows me too well, but I promised to help Grams with this battle about the surgery tomorrow.
“Girls, take a seat,” Grams tells them.
They look at her warily for a moment before sitting down. “What’s going on, Mom?” Mom and Annie peer over at Charlie next, maybe wondering why someone who’s practically a stranger is standing there when they are about to have what sounds like a serious conversation. I would feel that way if I didn’t know better.
“I’m going to have the surgery tomorrow. I have to give my heart one more chance, and there’s nothing either of you can do to talk me out of it.” Grams gets right to the point.
“Mom, Jackson said it was dangerous, and it could kill you,” Annie says, immediately upset—obviously against the idea, and Mom is right behind her. There’s no winning with this. It’s a gamble either way.
“Clara and Annie, I’m going to die anyway. If it’s my time, then it’s my time. Let me die when I choose to die, okay?”
Annie and Mom give each other a knowing look, silently agreeing that there is no arguing with Grams about her health. She has always overseen her own life, and it will continue to be like that until the day she dies.
We’re all gathered in Grams’s room this morning at six o’clock since Jackson scheduled the surgery for seven. He said it could take several hours, and he wanted to start as early as possible. I’m stealing half of Grams’s bed, resting with her, needing to be as close as possible. Annie and Mom are sharing the space on her other side, and Charlie is beside me with his hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to make it,” Charlie says. “You’re a survivor, Amelia. You know that.”
“I know,” Grams says. She doesn’t seem like herself today, kind of like the day when she was telling me she was going to die, and it scares me.
“Do you think I’m doing the wrong thing?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her. “If you have a chance at more, I say take it.”
I must be able to live with the outcome if today doesn’t go well, but Grams has always focused on living in the moment and taking risks so she never had to wonder what could have been, except for with Charlie. In any case, if this is what she believes is right, then I have to be okay with it.
Jackson knocks on the door and walks into the crowded room. He’s in his scrubs with a surgical cap already in place. “Good morning, Amelia,” he says.
“How is my future grandson-in-law?” she asks, teasing him with a pointed finger.
Jackson laughs. “I’m doing well. I’m ready to save a heart today. How are you doing?”
“I’m scared,” she says honestly.
Jackson moves in slowly as we all part ways from Grams’s side to give him space. “You’re going to be set up in just a few minutes, but I wanted to make sure you don’t have any last-minute questions or concerns.”
“I don’t think so,” Grams says. “I’m ready to get this over with.”
“Understandable.” He places his hand on Grams’s shoulder and smiles at her, looking calm and relaxed, which is exactly what she needs. I appreciate it, especially since we all know how risky this surgery is.
“I’ll give you all another minute before the nurses come in to get you,” Jackson says.
He looks at me and subtly asks if I’m okay with a gesture of his raised brows. I nod and shrug, unsure how to respond. “I’ll take good care of her,” he mouths before leaving.
It’s hard to imagine saying goodbye, but how can I not prepare for the worst? I lean over Grams and wrap my hands around her face, staring into her hazy eyes as she gives me the same look in return. No matter the outcome, I need to remember this moment for the rest of my life. I need to remember everything about her because I’m so much a part of her. She can’t leave me…she can’t. I break my gaze for a moment, looking up at the ceiling to stop the pooling tears from falling down my cheeks. I exhale slowly, pleadingly for this pain in my chest to go away. Right now, I feel like I need a heart doctor too.
“I love you so much, Grams, and you are going to make it through this, okay?” My chest is tight, and my throat is dry. My heart hurts, and I’m not going to be able to keep it together much longer.
“I know you love me. You will always be my sweetheart, Emma. Always.”
“And my girls…you are my special, special girls. You have made my life worth living. Every moment. Every single moment has been worth it for you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t,” Grams tells them.
“Don’t talk like that, Mom,” Annie says. “We love you. You’re going to make it. You have to.”
Mom and Annie release an ocean of tears as they hold each other, walking out of the room. “Charlie, are you coming with us?” Mom asks him through a hiccup. They haven’t asked him many questions, which I find odd, but at the same time, I’m grateful.
“I’ll be right there,”
he says to them.
Mom and Annie offer each other a look, and I can’t decipher the exchange. Maybe they know something, or maybe I am truly the only one who knows. Maybe none of us are meant to ever speak of it with one another. It’s so confusing, yet I understand it all so clearly.
Charlie is the only one left beside me, and he sits down on Grams’s bed and leans back into the pillow with her.
“Amelia, we’ve made it this far. I know this is what’s right. I still love you, darling, just as much as I did all those years ago.”
Grams reaches up and touches Charlie’s cheek with the tips of her fingers, gazing at him as if she were a young girl in love for the first time. “You know what my biggest regret was, Charlie?” Grams asks.
With a small smile on Charlie’s face, he presses his fingers gently through Grams’s hair. “What’s that?”
Grams shakes her head from side to side with small movements. “I never got to tell you how I truly felt that day when you saved me, Charlie.”
With his hand now cupped around her chin, forcing her to focus on his face, he smiles. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. Charlie’s eyes well up, but it looks like the tears are made from contentment and joy. He lays his head on Grams’s chest and holds her tightly. “I could die knowing you never said those words because I knew how you felt, and that was enough for me.”
Grams pulls in a deep breath and holds it for a moment. “Charlie, it’s not enough, and if this is it for me, I need for you to know—”
“No,” Charlie says as he places his finger over Grams’s lips. “You don’t owe me that. Love isn’t words, Amelia. Love is so much more than letters and sounds, and we know that.”
“Yes, that’s true, and I was sure if said those deadly words to you, then you would be the next person taken from me. Before I met you, I lost everyone I loved. I couldn’t bear to take a chance on that with you, as well. However, now that I might be the next to go, you should hear those last words.”
“Don’t say your last words, Amelia. Don’t.”
“Charlie, I have waited all these years to tell you what I couldn’t say back then.”
“Don’t say it,” he croaks, sounding as if he may shatter. His face crumples with pain and anger as he continues to plead. “Please, don’t. Save them for later.”
“I love you, Charlie. I have loved you since the beginning of our time together, and if this is it for me, then these words—‘I love you’ are my last words, and they will always belong to you.”
EPILOGUE
The chairs are all aligned in a row, one after another, filled with friends and family. I’ve learned a lot over the course of my life, and I know there are many beginnings but only one end. Life has its path set out for us, and whether we try to change it or just understand it, we’ll never have everything figured out. That’s just the way it is.
Everyone is gathered in their best attire, waiting silently for the ceremony to begin. Tears that have been waiting a long time fall from my eyes as Jackson walks with me down between the rows of chairs. My heart pounds heavily, reminding me of the journeys I’ve been through as Jackson helps me down to the seat in the front row. I pull a tissue out of my purse and hold it against my chest, knowing it won’t be long before it has soaked up all my falling tears.
Debussy’s Reverie chimes from the small three-piece orchestra in front of me, and I turn to watch the others walking in my direction.
As the rows are filled and silence washes over the enclosed area like a breeze on a beautiful summer’s day, my attention is drawn toward the most beautiful vision.
Charlie’s arm is looped through Emma’s as he escorts her down the aisle toward the love of her life. Knowing he has had the privilege of walking his granddaughter down the aisle is more than I could ask for, other than the little more time I’ve been gifted. It will be the best memory of my whole life.
Jackson has a tear rolling down his cheek as he smiles wider than I’ve seen him smile in the last year. He sees his forever walking toward him, and he told me yesterday that if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be the luckiest man in the world today.
They promised me they would marry before I died, but Jackson gave me the gift of more time, so not only do I have the pleasure of watching my only granddaughter entering into a life of happiness and joy, but I have my Charlie by my side—the way it was always meant to be.
Annie and Clara accepted me—their old mother—dating a man at ninety-two and didn’t put up much of a stink. Charlie has added laughter and love to our lives, and it has felt purely instinctual the way both girls warmed up to him without knowing the true connection between us all. To me, it’s just another way of witnessing the depths to which love travels.
With my life’s truths floating from secret to secret, Charlie and I found it suiting to privately sneak away to Ellis Island a few months ago and marry one another in front of the Statue of Liberty. It was a day to celebrate, but just for the two of us. It’s still a secret, but it’s our secret now instead of just my own, although I think Emma suspects something. I know it was our destiny to live until we found freedom and each other.
I’ve seen it all. I’ve been through more than I want to remember some days, but my stories and memories made me who I am. I can speak freely about the difference between love and hate, peace and war, and I don’t feel the need to keep it tucked away in my diary under my bed any longer—most of it, anyway.
Charlie and I may not have all the time in the world, but we have the rest of our lives together, and we intend to make the most of it.
I never gave up.
He never gave up.
We’re survivors from opposite sides, brought together through the enemy who only believed in hate.
Charlie promised he’d come back for me. He kept his last words, and I will keep mine.
In the end, we won our war.
AFTERWORD
I love you.
Three simple words, never spoken by my flesh and blood.
Thirty-three years came and went, and I never heard those words from my grandmother. I went through life wondering if she loved me at all, wondering if I wasn’t adequate or worthy enough, wondering if I was a disappointment. Her feelings came to me in waves of confusion—explanations of why she was the way she was—who she was and who she had been.
My grandmother was a survivor in every sense of the word. She lived through three years of torment during the Holocaust at Theresienstadt, a concentration camp in what was then Czechoslovakia. The conditions in the camp were horrendous, even worse than what I wrote about in this story.
Writing this book was a journey for me—it was a way for me to heal and understand who my grandmother was. After thirty-three years of pushing away and blocking out the historically terrifying stories she willing shared with me, she passed away. Now, all I want to do is ask her questions, learn more about her life, and find out about the monsters under her bed. It’s too late for that, but the information is still there even though it has been denied and erased by so many people. That saddens me.
I was in pain after she died, but I could not show it. She told me crying was not a way to express emotion, but instead, it was a form of weakness. We weren’t supposed to cry at funerals. Instead, we should always remember the good times.
No one cried at my grandmother’s funeral. It was out of respect for her.
We all told her we loved her, knowing we would never hear the words in return. It took the writing of this book to help me understand why she couldn’t say it.
My grandmother lost her brother, her father, aunts, uncles, and cousins in the Holocaust. Everyone was gone except for her mother. She carried on through life—existing, learning, teaching, researching, and writing. Unlike Amelia, she didn’t want to forget. She wanted to remember. She carried it all with her—the habits she learned in the camp, and the way of life no one should willingly choose. It made me angry and upset, and I couldn’t understand why she was cold when I was
so warm. Now, I finally understand. What she experienced at that camp had such a profound effect on her that it became part of who she was.
She may be gone, but I hope she’s watching over me and knows how much of my heart I put into this book to honor her. I hope that if she were still here, she would feel a sense of peace and pride to know that I understand why she was the way she was, and that I accept, appreciate, and respect her and the unique ways she chose to live life.
If she didn’t fight to survive, I wouldn’t be here. I’m grateful for her strength and courage, and I hope I’ve inherited just an ounce of her passionate spirit.
About the Author
Shari J. Ryan is an International Bestselling Author of heartbreakers and mind-benders. Shari was once told she tends to exaggerate often and sometimes talks too much, which would make a great foundation for fictional books. Four years later, Shari has written thirteen novels that often leave readers either in tears from laughing, or crying.
With her loud Boston girl attitude, Shari isn’t shy about her love for writing or the publishing industry. Along with writing several International bestsellers, Shari has split her time between writing and her longstanding passion for graphic design. In 2014, she started an indie-publishing resource company, MadHat Books, to help fellow authors with their book cover designs, as well as assistance in the self-publishing process.
While Shari may not find many hours to sleep, she still manages to make time for her family. She is a devoted wife to a great guy, and a mother to two little boys who remind her daily why she was put on this earth.
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For more information:
www.sharijryan.com
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Last Words: A Diary of Survival Page 29
