Chaelisa | Lisa G!P
Lisa Manoban lives life the way she wants, no concern for the opinion of others. She cares for no one, is completely unrepentant, and she has no desire to change her ways.
Roseanne Park works under Lisa as her PA. She despises he...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The condo was quiet. Roseanne, after another night of silence, had gone to bed. She hadn’t eaten much dinner, barely sipped her wine, and answered my questions with small hums or shakes of her head. I heard her moving around upstairs, the sound of drawers opening and closing, and I knew she was probably rearranging and organizing. She did that when she was upset.
Worry ate away at my nerves; it was something I’d never experienced. I wasn’t used to caring about anyone. I wondered how to help her to feel better, how to help her talk. She needed to talk.
The memorial had been small but special. Since Irene and Graham handled most of the arrangements, it wasn’t surprising. Irene sat with Roseanne and helped her pick out some photos, which they placed around the room. Her favorite one of Penny they positioned by the urn that was decorated with wildflowers. There were flowers sent by different people, the largest arrangement came from Roseanne and myself. All of Penny’s favorites filled the vase beside her picture; the majority of the flowers were daisies.
Most of the staff from The Kim Group came to pay their respects. I stood by Roseanne, my arm wrapped around her waist, holding her rigid body close to mine, in silent support. I shook hands, accepting the murmured words of condolences; aware of the way her figure shook at times. Some care workers and staff from Golden Oaks attended, and roseanne accepted their hugs and whispered words of shared grief, then always stepped back beside me, as if seeking the shelter of my embrace. There were few of Penny’s friends left to attend — those who did, Roseanne gave preferential treatment. She crouched low to speak in hushed tones to those in wheelchairs, made sure the ones with walkers were escorted to a seat quickly, and after the brief ceremony, spent time with them all.
I kept my eye on her and stayed close, worried over the lack of tears and the constant shake of her hands. I had never experienced grief until that day. When my parents died, I had felt nothing except relief after all they put me through. I had been sad when Nana left the house, but it was the sadness of a child. The pain I felt for Penny was a scorching ache in my chest. It welled and spilled over in the strangest of ways. Unshed tears burned in my eyes when I least expected them. When the boxes containing her possessions arrived, I had to stay in the storage room, overcome with an emotion I couldn’t explain. I found myself thinking of our talks, the way her eyes would light up when I mentioned Roseanne name. Her sweet, funny stories of their life together. My calendar still showed all my Tuesday evenings blocked out with the name Penny across them. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to erase them yet. On top of the already strange emotions I felt was the concern for my wife.
I thought she was handling everything. I knew she was grieving the loss of the woman she loved like a mother, yet she had been calm. Steady. She had cried once, but I hadn’t seen her weep since the day Penny passed. Since the memorial earlier today, she had shut down. She had gone out for a walk, silently shaking her head at my offer to accompany her. When she returned, she went straight to her room until I went to get her to eat dinner.
