Heart Rallies

MISTS OF JULY

It was the best last four weeks after our third wedding.

She was always laughing. I cracked jokes no matter how bad I am when delivering it. I made pancakes for her. I cooked food for her. I brought her to the shower and bathe her. I gave her her medicines. I stayed awake for her in case she needed anything.

She could no longer stand up from the bed. Cali was always at home. He never went home to his parents unless needed. Leb, Teah, and Bent also moved in for the meantime. No one asked.

Cali's presence alone explained what was going on.

No one cried. They laughed while they were around her, made her laugh, lived life as normal as possible.

And I never asked. I only made her smile.

We just all go someplace else where she could not see us and cry it out.

One night while I was hugging her, I told her something.

"Baby," I said. She looked at me. "I love you. I'm glad you were a tough lawyer. I'm glad I was late on my first day of work because of the rally you attended. Thank you for stopping me to love you because now, I simply have proven you love me too much."

She smiled. "I love you too Seff."

"Thank you for the past 50 years and 29 days."

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure."

And we both slept with smiles on our faces.

When we woke up, she was staring at me with a smile. I returned it.

"Good morning baby," I told her. "Pancakes?"

"No need babe. I'm okay. Please just make some for the kids. Don't count me in."

"Sure?"

Bea nodded.

"Okay. I'll go down and see them. It's a Sunday and everyone would be here today. Please wear a smile for everyone. I know Cali would be in a bad mood," I smiled at her and wore my slippers. "He is the worst nagger for the past few days. Always irritated and all that."

She nodded. "Please tell my kids that I love them and I want some kiss later from everyone."

"I will tell them," I said. "If you need anything, ring the bell, okay?"

She nodded.

"I love you babe. I will always do," I told her and kissed my wife for forever.

She smiled. "I love you too Seff Yu," she said and touched my face. "Thank you for the past 50 years and 30 days."

I laughed. "You're welcome."

"See you soon."

--

That was the last thing she told me that Sundate.

We were all supposed to have lunch and spend the day with her as complete. Indeed, everyone was there. No one was absent.

I prepared breakfast for everyone while Cali checked on her. It was time to take her medicines.

He found her like Sleeping Beauty.

--

No one can prepare for your own or someone else's death.

When it comes, it will still tear your heart into a million pieces.

That was what happened to me.

My Bea got her last wish. Indeed, when I went down, I told them all what Bea wanted me to tell them.

Before they put her in the casket and daily while we held the wake, everyone made it a point to kiss her.

They asked me to give my eulogy and I politely declined. My kids would never want to hear what I will say.

I know they are not ready to let me go at the same time. As a father, I would need to give them some time to prepare for mine.

I handed them the letters Bea drafted.

It was hard to move on without the woman you have slept with all your life. I needed to wake up to the pain of an empty space beside me. I wake up seeing the plants already watered but I know that it was done by the helper.

But like what the Bible said, we were made from ashes and we will go back to being ashes.

It was a while since Bea and I last talked and have seen each other. I badly miss her. Sometimes I talk to her when I am alone and I always tell her that we will see each other again soon.

I woke up one day with a smile on my face. It felt really good and light.

I saw Cali, Leb, Teah, and Bent looking at me. I never knew the answer as to what I did to deserve them. But maybe I don't really have to. I just have to be thankful I did.

Then I looked at the woman beside me. She looked young. Young as the woman who attends rallies.

She was smiling at me, holding my hand.

I smiled back at her.

"It's been a while. Happy anniversary," I told her.

She nodded in acknowledgement and smiled at me. "Happy anniversary. Your mom made some cupcakes. We're doing good with the business here. Ten branches. I still do the boxes."

I laughed at her. She will never learn how to bake. She will always be the box maker. I held her hand as we went in.

"And babe?" she said.

"Yes?" I asked her as we walked going in. I am in awe with her beauty. The woman on her late twenties I first fell in love with.

"Welcome home."