Always Forward

by Ginny Dye

  “When you gonna stop feelin’ sorry for yourself, Miss Carrie?” Annie’s voice was not harsh, but it was blunt.

  Carrie gasped as if Annie had punched her, and whirled around, fury loosening her tongue. “What would you know about what I’m feeling?” she snapped. Annie narrowed her eyes, but she remained silent. As Carrie glared at her, the understanding that Annie could understand better than anyone filtered through her bitter defiance, but the realization did nothing to make her feel better. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? Slowly, the compassion filling Annie’s face broke through her defenses. As her walls lowered, the pain she had been holding at bay crashed through like towering waves and seemed to swallow her. Carrie doubled over as a ripping pain shot through her.

  Then she turned and ran.

  ********

  Carrie didn’t know how much time had passed before she heard light footsteps. She wanted to jump up and run again, but she was too exhausted. She had run all the way here, and her tears had left her drained and empty. She wanted to tell whoever it was to go away and leave her alone, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. She remained silent and waited to hear the words of whoever had come to pass judgement on her for being cruel to Annie. There was some part of her that recognized she had not been kind, but she couldn’t find enough energy to care. She was becoming quite adept at shutting out the world. She could certainly do it one more time. She was puzzled when she heard the crinkle of paper and then the sound of departing footsteps. When the expected voice didn’t come, she finally looked down beside her and saw an envelope.

  Curious, Carrie picked it up and stared at it, recognizing the handwriting immediately, but not seeing a postmark. How had Biddy sent a letter to her? She imagined Rose had followed her through the tunnel down to the river, but a quick glance told her she was nowhere in sight. There was a part of her that resisted opening the letter, and the very sight of Biddy’s spidery scrawl evoked memories of the daughter named for her, but she loved the old woman far too much not to read what she had written. She opened the envelope carefully, pulled out the thick sheaf of papers, took a deep breath, and began to read.

  My Dearest Carrie,

  I have asked Abby and Rose not to give you this letter until the end of July because I don’t believe you will be ready to hear anything I have to say until then. You may still not be ready, but I fear waiting any longer would not help you.

  Carrie frowned. Days had come to mean nothing to her so she had to struggle to determine the date. She vaguely remembered seeing a newspaper lying on the dining room table on her way to the kitchen this morning. Her eyes had landed on the day, July twenty-fourth. Her father always sent the newspapers to Felicia within a few days, so the best she could calculate, it must be the end of July. Her heart quickened as she realized it might even be July twenty-seventh, the third month anniversary of the deaths. She wasn’t sure when she had begun to refer to them in her mind as the deaths. It somehow seemed easier than thinking of both Robert and Bridget dying separately.

  Rose would be as aware as she was what day it was. That thought filled her with an instant remorse. She had been avoiding her best friend as much as everyone else. She couldn’t face the sympathy in her eyes. The only peace she felt was when she was with the horses because they had no understanding that her whole world had been ripped into shreds.

  Carrie shook her head and turned back to the letter. At this rate, it would take her all day to read whatever Biddy had to say. Just holding the pages in her hand, though, made her feel closer to the wise-eyed woman that had grown so dear to her.

  You know my story, so there is no need to remind you while you are buried in your own grief.

  Carrie stared out over the water, thinking of all Biddy had lost—her husband, all her sons, and all but one of her grandsons, most of them swallowed by the war. She had felt sympathy and horror before, but now the reality of her own loss had given her an understanding of how unbearable it all must have been. She could not imagine how Biddy had survived it.

  I’m sure at this point that you are wondering how I survived it all, because you are questioning why you should survive your own loss.

  Carrie gasped as the woman anticipated her thoughts from afar, and then she read on, suddenly desperate to hear what Biddy had to say. The words were clearly coming from someone who had walked where she was walking.

  No one’s grief is alike, Carrie. All of us have a different life, and we are all different people. We all lose our loved ones in different ways. There are many who are certain they understand your grief, but those are the ones who probably understand it the least. I certainly understand grief, but I’m not so arrogant to say I understand your grief. You do not need to explain your grief to anyone. It is mostly important for you to know your pain is unique to everyone else’s. You can merely do the best you can to survive it.

  Carrie sighed as she lowered the pages. She should have known Biddy would give her the space to do things her own way. She was also uncomfortably aware that neither Abby nor Rose had tried to tell her they understood her grief, or thought it should be a certain way. She had blocked them out, when there may have been no reason to block them out.

  There will be people in your life who may feel you have grieved long enough, or that it is time for you to move on with your life. They will think about the strong Carrie they know and expect you to behave in a certain way. Sometimes, my dear, our very strength means our grieving is even deeper because our hearts are so passionate about everything. It can be both a blessing and a curse. Most days, four years after the loss of my final grandson, I can walk through life fairly normally, but then something will happen that awakens all the pain and makes it all seem fresh and new. All I can do is grit my teeth, wait for the worst of the agony to pass, and pray for my breath to come a little easier. Carrie, no one can dictate how you deal with the loss of Robert and Bridget. We all must find a way to embrace life again, though I’m quite certain that seems impossible to you right now. For so long I simply didn’t care to try to make meaning or sense of all the death. There is no real sense in it, after all, but humans strive to find a way to move on since we are the ones still alive. You never truly get over it because the deaths leave a hole in your life that nothing else can fill.

  Tears filled Carrie’s eyes as Biddy spoke the words screaming in her soul. The conversation with Annie and Polly had seared her heart this morning, but there was also a part of her that realized Annie, because she was a slave, had barely had time to feel the grief of her losses because her life was not her own. She understood loss, but she had never had a choice to do anything but pick up the pieces and move on. Perhaps that was better, Carrie mused, but that was not her life, and not her experience. Biddy promised her that was all right.

  There are people who will tell you that you have to let go of your loved ones. What rubbish!

  Carrie couldn’t help the smile that trembled on her lips as she envisioned Biddy’s bright blue eyes snapping with indignation. She could hear her Irish accent clearly through the written words.

  I’ve never told anyone that I have Faith fix birthday cakes every year for my husband, my sons, and my grandsons. The children in Moyamensing have no idea why Faith bakes so many cakes, but they know what the smells from the kitchen mean, and they are always lined up to eat them. Many would tell me I’m being maudlin, but it is simply my way of honoring their existence in my life. I treasure the memories of each one, even while I strive to live life each day and move into the future, however much more of it I have left. The day is coming soon when I will be with all those I have lost. You do not have that same knowledge, so do whatever feels right to you to honor the lives of Robert and Bridget.

  Carrie lowered the pages again, thinking of her decision to carry on Robert’s legacy with the horses. It was the only way she knew to live with her pain today, and it was the only way she knew to honor his existence in her life. She pushed aside the uncomfortable thought of how much he h
ad supported her being a doctor. She wondered what he would think of her decision, but he hadn’t known that the day would come when it was impossible for her to save her husband and her daughter. She swallowed hard to push down the bile of burning guilt that rose up in her throat to choke her. She turned back to the letter to escape her own thoughts.

  Now I’m going to tell you something I am quite sure you don’t want to hear, and you may not be ready to hear it, but still I am going to say it. We are enough alike that I know your first thought is to shut everyone out and endure the pain on your own. Carrie, my dear, you will never move through your grief unless you experience it. Hiding it or denying it will only prolong it. Talk about it, Carrie. Talk about it with Abby. Talk about it with Rose. Talk about it with anyone who will listen—even Granite, who may be the best listener of all!

  Carrie could not believe it when she chuckled. She chuckled. It was the first thing resembling laughter that had escaped her mouth since she had seen Mark Jones’ grim face on the train platform. She sobered quickly as the memory that had started this long nightmare rose up in her mind. Biddy was right that she didn’t want to hear what she was saying, but there was also some small part of her that felt there might be truth in it.

  Talk, Carrie. Talk about Robert. Talk about Bridget. Talk about the pain ripping through you. Talk about how you feel like you are a failure for not saving them. Talk about how you believe it is your fault.

  Carrie gasped and put down the letter with trembling hands. How had Biddy known? Had Abby told her? She tossed the question aside as soon as it rose in her mind; Abby would never have done that. Biddy must know because she had felt responsible herself. But how could she? None of the deaths had been her fault. She had lost her sons and grandsons to a terrible war that had ripped the country apart.

  I already know what you are thinking, Carrie. How do I know you believe it is your fault? I know you, dearest one. I’ve watched you go long, sleepless days and nights to save everyone you can possibly save. I’ve watched you fight the grain of society to help others because you believe it is the right thing to do. I watched you save so many here in Moyamensing from cholera. How it must ache that you could not save your husband and daughter. I’m not going to try to convince you it is not your fault, though it is most assuredly not. I’m just going to tell you to talk about it. Every time you do, you will breathe a little easier. It’s okay that you don’t believe me, but I urge you to at least try. You have so many people who love you so deeply. Let them love you, Carrie. Please let them love you.

  Tears blurred Carrie’s eyes and made it impossible to continue reading. She bowed her head as quiet sobs shook her thin shoulders. She finally was able to take a deep breath and pick the letter up again, eager to see what else Biddy had to say.

  I fear I may have already tried to say too much, but I don’t know how long it will be before I see you again. I wish we could sit in my parlor and talk for hours, but I understand why you don’t want to leave the plantation. Grieving is a process, dear one. There will be days when it doesn’t hurt quite so badly, and then it will come roaring back with an intensity you are sure will destroy you. There are days when the sadness consumes you, and then anger will make you want to lash out at every person around you. You will feel crazy at times. There will also be days when you will almost feel normal – but then you will feel guilty, because how could you ever hope to feel normal again. The spiral of feelings will seem to spin you around until you feel there is no life within you.

  Now, do I believe it will get better? Yes. Though I will never quit missing the loved ones I have lost, my life is also full and good. The things I am doing will never replace what I have lost, but I have wonderful people that make the loss not quite so terrible. You are one of them. I have no idea how long it will take for you, Carrie, but there is one thing I encourage you to do. Every time you think of Robert dying in your arms, also try to pull forth a memory of you dancing together. Remember your first kiss. Remember laughing together. Accept the pain of the horrible memory, but also welcome the other memories that make you miss him so very much. Remember him the way he is hoping you will remember him.

  I love you, Carrie. You are constantly in my thoughts and prayers.

  Biddy

  Carrie lowered the pages, and for the first time since Robert’s death, she let her mind fill with memories of the good times. Until this moment, each memory that had tried to seep in had only increased her misery, not relieved it. She wasn’t sure she was actually feeling relief now, but she could at least say the images filling her mind did not feel they were ripping her soul from her. A small glimmer of comfort filled her as she allowed her mind to replay many of the wonderful times with Robert.

  Her breath caught with a gasp as she tried to do the same with Bridget. There were no memories of the daughter she had lost, only a black hole of emptiness that could never be filled. But then she realized something. She had the memories of the moments Bridget had been conceived. She had the memories of her growing in her womb, of her kicking and squirming as she moved toward life. Her throat locked as the memories threatened to choke her. She could only imagine how beautiful her daughter must have been. She had never seen her, though. Carrie understood why they had not been willing to pry open the tiny casket after five hot days, but she had nothing to remember. That knowledge, more than anything, rose up to overwhelm her. She cried out and leaned over as a new spasm of sobs racked her body.

  “Carrie.”

  Carrie stiffened when the soft voice sounded beside her, and as an arm curled around her waist to support her. Talk about it. Biddy’s words came to her as a command. She whirled to stare at Rose, not even questioning why she was there. “What did Bridget look like?” she cried. “What did my daughter look like?”

  “She was beautiful,” Rose murmured. “She had a perfect little face with tiny rosebud lips. Every toe and finger was there. She was so tiny, but she was so perfect.” She paused. “And she had black hair.” Somehow she managed to smile. “She had more black hair than I thought it was possible for a baby so young to have.”

  Carrie stared at Rose, trying to envision it. She had never asked before because she couldn’t deal with one more image of the daughter she had killed. “What color were her eyes?” she whispered.

  Rose’s own eyes filled with sadness. “I don’t know, Carrie.”

  Carrie finished what she didn’t say. “She never opened them,” she said numbly.

  “No, she never opened them,” Rose agreed, somehow knowing Carrie needed to hear it. “She was dead when she was born.” Her voice was full of raw pain. “Abby held her for a long time. She held her, and talked to her, and stroked her tiny head so she would know how loved she was.”

  The tears came faster as Carrie imagined her daughter dying inside the womb that had sheltered and held her for seven months, yet she was also comforted by the knowledge that Bridget had not been alone, that her grandmother had held her close and wrapped her in love when she had been taken from her mother.

  Rose kept her arm around Carrie’s waist as she cried, but she said no more. Carrie simply enjoyed the connection until her tears ran dry, and then she moved back so she could see Rose. “Why are you still here?”

  Rose cocked her head, but seemed to understand the true depth of the question she was being asked. “I’m here because you are here.”

  For the first time, Carrie looked at her with a thought to what Rose was doing. “You and Moses are going to college,” she murmured, her eyes widening with sudden realization. “You should have already left.”

  Rose smiled tenderly. “Would you have left me?”

  Carrie considered the question. “No,” she admitted, “but it’s time for you to go.”

  “Is it?”

  Carrie stared at her friend’s calm face, not able to miss the love radiating from her eyes. “I’ve been terrible,” she cried.

  “You’ve been grieving,” Rose answered. “And you will be for a long
time. I don’t know what Biddy said to you in that letter, but I’m glad it seemed to help.” She answered the questions in Carrie’s eyes. “She gave it to us when we stopped to see her after the ERA Convention in New York City. She asked us to not give it to you until now.”

  “Until this exact date?” Carrie asked.

  “No,” Rose answered. “She told me you weren’t ready for it yet, but that I would know when you were.”

  “How did you know?”

  Rose shrugged. “I didn’t. I was afraid I would give it to you too late, or too early. When I saw you run out of the kitchen this morning and head for your room, I knew where you were going. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake when I followed you and gave you the letter.”

  “It was the right time,” Carrie murmured. Rose continued to sit beside her quietly. Carrie vaguely became aware of the sun blazing down on them. She could feel the sweat pooling in her armpits and beading on her forehead. It was the first time she had even been aware of her surroundings. “I’m not leaving the plantation,” she said suddenly.

  Rose turned to look at her, but she didn’t say anything.

  “I can’t,” Carrie said almost desperately. “I’m not going to be a doctor,” she said, certain Rose would argue with her decision. She was surprised when Rose remained quiet, looking at her with a soft understanding. She grew uncomfortable when the silence stretched out. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “What would you like me to say?”

  Carrie shook her head with frustration. “I’m going to stay here on the plantation and make Robert’s dream come true. The only peace I have is when I’m with the horses.” She wanted her best friend to understand. She had to make her understand, because Rose had to leave.

  “All right,” Rose replied, her dark eyes glowing with compassion.