While She Can Still Smell Them

Chapter 2

Martin, our attorney came over at noon to finalize her will and funeral arrangements. He encouraged Elizabeth to write the children letters for the special occasions she probably won't live to see. First Dates, Graduations, Weddings, anniversaries, births...

It's not fair. Elizabeth was such a good mother, and God, did she love those kids. Trevor wants to be just like me, but he is through and through a mama's boy. I have mixed emotions as I see my nine year old trying to be brave. He won't let us see him cry but I've seen the change in him since Elizabeth's diagnosis. Trevor tries to be strong for his little sister, he takes care of her when I am tending to Elizabeth during one of the 'episodes'. Macy idolizes Elizabeth. We've discussed mama's illness, but I don't think she really understands. I don't know how I can explain it to her.

"Tom!" Elizabeth shouts from the bedroom.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as I rush to the bedroom to see what is the wrong.

"Yes?" I breath as I give her a cursory once over looking for what was the matter. "What's wrong?"

She chuckles and grabs my hand with two of hers.

"Well, I'm dying... but we knew that already." she chuckles.

In the midst of all she is facing, she was trying to make a joke. It still amazes me that she tries to make me feel better about the situation.

"Ha. Ha." I say flatly. "It's not really funny."

"It's not funny." she concedes "But it's apart of life. We are all dying, I'm just doing it a little quicker than the others. Mama always told me I was advanced for my age." she said with a wry smile.

"What's going on honey?" I said ignoring her remark "Why'd you yell for me"

" I started writing the letters, like Martin told me I should, and I was writing the letters saying everything I want to say to you and the kids, when I realized: I'm still here!"

She said that as if it made all the sense in the world. And honestly I was still lost.

"Huh?" I said articulately.

"I was writing these letters, for Trevor's graduation, and Macy's wedding and I was pouring my heart into these letters. But why?"

"Martin said that it would be a good idea so that you could still be there for the milestones..." I trailed off not knowing what was going on.

" Yes, Yes. I know." she said dismissively. " I will write the letters and give as much advice as I can about the relevant occasions. I don't want to write the kids and you about how much I love you and will always love you."

"Okay. Then, don't?" I said still trying to grasp where this conversation was going

"Urgh, Thomas I swear sometimes...." she said exasperated with my thickness. "I don't want to write in a letter how much I love you. I don't want you to have to look to a piece of paper to know how much I love you. I want you to know in your heart, and in your mind that without a doubt I loved you with everything I had. I'm here. I want to say It now. "

she pulled my arm closer to her pulling me in. She kissed me with the fervor of the girl I'd met in high school. Like the girl who waited for me to return for my tour of duty. Like that beautiful bride with auburn hair. like the mother of the two best gifts I've ever been given.

In that moment she wasn't terminal. I wasn't helpless. I was a man kissing the love of his life. When she pulled away she left me wanting. Wanting more of her kisses. More of the love she had just shown.

When she pulled away, I was breathless and stupefied. As I sputtered and tried to regain my composure, she smiled triumphantly. She was basking in the affect she had on me. She had that gleam in her eye. The gleam that had slowly been fading since her diagnosis 17 months ago.

" I want my flowers while I can still smell them.

" Okay. "I said thinking of where I could get a bouquet of flowers

"And I can want to give my flowers too"

"And you've lost me again"

" I want a funeral."

"A funeral?"

"Well, not really a funeral" she began rambling. "I want to gather my loved ones and I want to get my flowers. They don’t have to bring flowers. They can just give their eulogies. But I don't want it to sound like a eulogy like I've already died. That's just weird. like I said: I'm still here! I want it to be almost like a roast. But I don't want them to make fun of me the whole time, that’s no fun. I want the stories of their favorite memories with me. All the things the want to say to me, I want them to have a platform. Oh and if they want to give me flowers now that would be awesome! Think of all the arrangements! They will be gorgeous! and we can serve wine! and we can invite Sarah and Glen, and Pastor, and Claire and …"

She kept on rambling and I let her. She only rambled when she was excited about something and lately there weren't many moments that she'd get excited.