What's Left of Us
Page 46
“Aundrea?”
Startled, I turn to see Brandon blocking the sunlight. “Brandon.”
“Thank you for coming today.”
I look down at my empty hands. “Of course.”
He holds out an envelope. “Amy wrote this for you and asked that I give it to you when she passed.”
“Thank you,” I choke, taking the paper from him.
He turns away from me and I call after him. “Brandon?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He gives me a smile. It’s small, but it’s there. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I grieved in March when we realized there was nothing more we could do. I’ve had the last few months to come to terms with the pain and enjoy the time with my wife. I got to grieve with her, which helped. So … Aundrea? I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry she didn’t tell you and you didn’t get to grieve with her. To celebrate her life with her.”
My eyes flutter closed and fresh tears streak my face. When I’m left alone I open the letter with trembling hands.
Aundrea,
If you’re reading this, you know, and I wish I could have told you. Please believe me when I tell you I tried many times, but telling you wouldn’t have made any of this easier.
I never told you about stopping treatment because I didn’t want to feed your fear. I didn’t want you to see my life in a negative way because it’s been nothing but beautiful to me. I got something most people don’t get when they’re faced with death. I got time. I was able to plan and spend time with my loved ones. We were able to prepare and I’ll be forever thankful for the time I got with them.
People take life for granted. They don’t stop to smell the flowers for no reason, or dance around in the rain because they’re happy. Being alive is a lot more than breathing every day. It’s savoring every moment. It’s getting in as many experiences as you can in the time you have. You don’t know what you have, or what’s missing, until it’s gone. Life is too short. Too short to think about everything that scares you. Too short to wonder what you could be doing, rather than doing it. Too short for regrets.
I don’t believe in chance encounters. I believe people come into our life for a specific reason and that we met so that we could help one another. Learn from each other. I needed you just as much as you needed me, and no words will ever be able to describe how thankful I am for your friendship. I don’t regret one second with you, Aundrea. My life is far from over. It’s just beginning, as is yours. Don’t let go of your dreams. Go after them and have hope. You’re going to get through this and go on to live a long, healthy life with your beautiful family. With your child.
Never be afraid, Aundrea. Life is never guaranteed and you need to enjoy what you have no matter what. I’ll always be with you. Please don’t doubt yourself. You’re so strong, Aundrea. Remember that.
Yours forever,
Amy
Unable to move, I sit there, clutching the letter. I feel so weak. Amy once called me her angel, but really she’s been mine. And I’ll continue to think of her as my guardian angel.
Parker’s hand lightly brushes my shoulder. “Are you ready?”
I glance down at the letter. Life is so unpredictable. It will always be difficult, given my history. Fear will sometimes creep in; get me down. But unless I get back up, I’ll never know if I can defeat it. Amy is right. Living a life not ruled by fear is difficult, but I have Parker standing by my side, helping me. And that makes it so much easier.
It’s time I break down the walls I’ve built. Cancer will always be a part of who I am, no matter how much it sucks or hurts. There’s no way around it, nor is there any point in running from it, but it doesn’t define who I am as a person.
Pain is what keeps my heart alive.
Pain is a reminder of the life I have to be thankful for.
Before I know it, we’re in the heart of the July heat. I haven’t gone back to volunteering at Mayo yet. I know Amy would want me to, but I’m not quite ready.
Parker’s birthday is the last weekend in July and I decided to surprise him with a weekend up north in Brainerd at a small resort on the lake. I thought we could use the time away.
The morning of our first full day here, and Parker’s birthday, the warm morning sun shines through our room, illuminating everything in sight. It’s peaceful being here. Every worry feels a million miles away. It’s just the two of us—no social media, work, family, or problems to get in the way.
I finish my make-up and slip into a colorful sundress, the cotton soft against my skin.
Parker has on plaid blue and white swim shorts and white T-shirt with a surfer standing next to a blue surfboard, which reads, “SAVE A WAVE, RIDE A SURFER.”
“I hope that shirt is intended for me?” I smirk.
“Of, course. Just a friendly reminder that I’m available all day and night if you need a good ride.”
“If?”
“When, when you need a good ride.”
I give him one of his own winks and blow him a kiss. I tie my hair back in a low bun, slip on my sunglasses, and nod to Parker that I’m ready.
As we eat breakfast I notice that Parker is watching me with interest.
“What?” I ask.
“I was just watching you. And thinking that if we have a boy, I hope he’s into cars like his dad.”
I laugh. “And if we have a girl?”
Startled, I turn to see Brandon blocking the sunlight. “Brandon.”
“Thank you for coming today.”
I look down at my empty hands. “Of course.”
He holds out an envelope. “Amy wrote this for you and asked that I give it to you when she passed.”
“Thank you,” I choke, taking the paper from him.
He turns away from me and I call after him. “Brandon?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He gives me a smile. It’s small, but it’s there. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I grieved in March when we realized there was nothing more we could do. I’ve had the last few months to come to terms with the pain and enjoy the time with my wife. I got to grieve with her, which helped. So … Aundrea? I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry she didn’t tell you and you didn’t get to grieve with her. To celebrate her life with her.”
My eyes flutter closed and fresh tears streak my face. When I’m left alone I open the letter with trembling hands.
Aundrea,
If you’re reading this, you know, and I wish I could have told you. Please believe me when I tell you I tried many times, but telling you wouldn’t have made any of this easier.
I never told you about stopping treatment because I didn’t want to feed your fear. I didn’t want you to see my life in a negative way because it’s been nothing but beautiful to me. I got something most people don’t get when they’re faced with death. I got time. I was able to plan and spend time with my loved ones. We were able to prepare and I’ll be forever thankful for the time I got with them.
People take life for granted. They don’t stop to smell the flowers for no reason, or dance around in the rain because they’re happy. Being alive is a lot more than breathing every day. It’s savoring every moment. It’s getting in as many experiences as you can in the time you have. You don’t know what you have, or what’s missing, until it’s gone. Life is too short. Too short to think about everything that scares you. Too short to wonder what you could be doing, rather than doing it. Too short for regrets.
I don’t believe in chance encounters. I believe people come into our life for a specific reason and that we met so that we could help one another. Learn from each other. I needed you just as much as you needed me, and no words will ever be able to describe how thankful I am for your friendship. I don’t regret one second with you, Aundrea. My life is far from over. It’s just beginning, as is yours. Don’t let go of your dreams. Go after them and have hope. You’re going to get through this and go on to live a long, healthy life with your beautiful family. With your child.
Never be afraid, Aundrea. Life is never guaranteed and you need to enjoy what you have no matter what. I’ll always be with you. Please don’t doubt yourself. You’re so strong, Aundrea. Remember that.
Yours forever,
Amy
Unable to move, I sit there, clutching the letter. I feel so weak. Amy once called me her angel, but really she’s been mine. And I’ll continue to think of her as my guardian angel.
Parker’s hand lightly brushes my shoulder. “Are you ready?”
I glance down at the letter. Life is so unpredictable. It will always be difficult, given my history. Fear will sometimes creep in; get me down. But unless I get back up, I’ll never know if I can defeat it. Amy is right. Living a life not ruled by fear is difficult, but I have Parker standing by my side, helping me. And that makes it so much easier.
It’s time I break down the walls I’ve built. Cancer will always be a part of who I am, no matter how much it sucks or hurts. There’s no way around it, nor is there any point in running from it, but it doesn’t define who I am as a person.
Pain is what keeps my heart alive.
Pain is a reminder of the life I have to be thankful for.
Before I know it, we’re in the heart of the July heat. I haven’t gone back to volunteering at Mayo yet. I know Amy would want me to, but I’m not quite ready.
Parker’s birthday is the last weekend in July and I decided to surprise him with a weekend up north in Brainerd at a small resort on the lake. I thought we could use the time away.
The morning of our first full day here, and Parker’s birthday, the warm morning sun shines through our room, illuminating everything in sight. It’s peaceful being here. Every worry feels a million miles away. It’s just the two of us—no social media, work, family, or problems to get in the way.
I finish my make-up and slip into a colorful sundress, the cotton soft against my skin.
Parker has on plaid blue and white swim shorts and white T-shirt with a surfer standing next to a blue surfboard, which reads, “SAVE A WAVE, RIDE A SURFER.”
“I hope that shirt is intended for me?” I smirk.
“Of, course. Just a friendly reminder that I’m available all day and night if you need a good ride.”
“If?”
“When, when you need a good ride.”
I give him one of his own winks and blow him a kiss. I tie my hair back in a low bun, slip on my sunglasses, and nod to Parker that I’m ready.
As we eat breakfast I notice that Parker is watching me with interest.
“What?” I ask.
“I was just watching you. And thinking that if we have a boy, I hope he’s into cars like his dad.”
I laugh. “And if we have a girl?”
