Undone

I remember that day like it was yesterday, a cold wet morning in late September. I was loading the dishwasher with the days breakfast dishes, staring out the window watching the slow drizzle of a chilly rain and contemplating the day ahead. I’ve always loved the rain but prefer it on a hot summer night while I sit in a rocking chair on my front patio, sipping sweet tea and reading a dusty paperback pulled from the library of books in my husband Eric’s office. As I went through the days to-do list in my mind, I was startled by someone knocking franticly on the door. I assumed it was Eric, likely having left his door key in his office per usual and was now trapped in the heavy downpour that started as a slow and steady drizzle. I smiled at the thought of him standing there, back pressed against the wall attempting to shield himself under the eaves of the roof. His dark brown hair plastered to his forehead by the rain and a crooked smile across his lips. Lolly, our golden retriever, let out a deep bellowing bark to alert me that she did not recognize the scent of whoever was at the door. Maybe the rain was masking his familiar smell. As I made my way through the house, in a sing-song kind of way I shouted, “Just a minute love”. I flung open the door with a big smile expecting to say, “let me guess, forgot your keys?”, but instead I was face to face with a man I’d never laid eyes on. “Mrs. Johnson, Maggie Johnson?”, he said, “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”. With a furrowed brow he said, “Mam, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there was an accident this morning. Your husband was involved and I’m sorry but, he didn’t make it”. His words echoed in my mind as a million thoughts raced through my brain. I couldn’t speak. I attempted to respond but my brain must have sent the signal to my knees instead of my mouth because I collapsed. Right there on the front patio, with Lolly pushing her wet warm nose against my legs, sensing something was wrong. I felt the stranger’s hands grasp my arm just before I hit the floor, he helped me ease into the rocking chair. The beginning of my nightmare, widowed at 26, with no children or nearby family to lean on, just a house built by a man I’d never see again and a dog he loved dearly. It was just me, Lolly, and my memories. The man handed me a card with his information and advised that someone from the coroner’s office would contact me to make an official ID and then he walked away. As I sat there on the patio, mind racing, tears streaming down my face, I was in shock and had completely forgotten about the rain. I was the one pressed against the wall with wet hair plastered against my face. “How could this be happening, was it even real, could this be a dream?” I don’t recall how long I sat crumpled in ball of defeat, soaked to the bone, sobbing for my love. The next few weeks were clouded by a haze and I felt as if I were moving through time in slow motion. There was a funeral filled with crying people, our friends, Eric’s coworkers and his family. I picked a deep blue casket with silver edging and a soft white lining. Eric loved blue, it reminded him of the sky, and me of his eyes. I truly believe that in life you are given one true love and Eric was mine. There is not a soul that walks this earth that could fill his shoes, his incredibly ugly, old man style Sperry’s that I liked to give him grief over. We often joked that he was like a wise old man, holed up in his office writing stories and reading until the sun went down. Then, shortly after he’d make his way into the kitchen, smack my behind and remark on the smells of dinner cooking. God how I loved that man, old soul and all. I know they say time heals everything, but how much time exactly, because I don’t know how to live with his ghost. Living without Eric was a challenge, my normal optimistic outlook had faded, and I retreated into a deep dark depression. My friends saw only the mask that I became so well at wearing, and so they assumed I was fine. Well, as fine as you can be with a dead husband. Day after day I retreated into myself, my mind, and his stories. Getting lost in his written word about love and magic made it feel like he was still there with me. For three months I spent every waking hour in his office, Lolly at my side, reading and staring out the window into the street. My dreams were filled with his face, his soft low laugh echoing in my mind. At time’s I swear I could smell him, a mixture of stale books and Acqua di Gio. It was absolutely maddening. I found myself writing, attempting to complete his unfinished manuscript. He hated leaving things undone, and dead or not we’d already spent the advance on his current novel. His publisher didn’t expect a completed work and offered to have a ghost writer complete the last few chapters, but Eric would be furious about that. So, I decided I’d do it, I mean I’m a writer too, I run my own very successful blog. I poured all of my energy into Eric’s last novel, trying my best to channel his essence and let his words flow through me. I’d become so entangled in him that it felt like he was a physical part of me. Excited for the first time in ages, I grabbed his finished manuscript from the printer and dropped it into an envelope. Envelope in hand, I rushed out the door eager to get it in the mail. As I stepped outside, I was stopped dead in my tracks, heart thumping, breath caught in my throat. As clear as I have ever seen anything, there stood Eric in the middle of the street, his dark brown hair laying softly above his brow and smiling that crooked smile that never fails to take my breath away. At first, I thought I was dreaming, “This can’t be real, can it?”, but he was standing there in the street, right in front of my eyes. “Any minute now he will fade away like a mirage.”, I thought, but he didn’t. Instead he stepped forward walking at a painfully slow pace, another trait I like to attribute to his old soul. “I’m losing my mind or maybe I have a brain tumor”. As he drew closer, I could hear his footsteps crunch on the extremely dry lawn. The lawn had turned a yellow straw like color. I suddenly realized the sun was blazing down on me and as I looked up to the sky I thought, “It’s only been three maybe four months since Eric’s death. How can it be this hot and dry in late February?” At that very moment Eric reached me on the patio and extended his hand to caress my cheek. I could feel his skin on mine, the warmth of his fingertips and the chill that his touch sent down my spine. If this was a dream it was the most lucid dream ever experienced by man. “Hello love. I’ve missed you”, he whispered, his soft low voice sweet and warm like apple pie. He leaned in and kissed me, his taste familiar, lips soft and supple, just like I remembered. Finally, I was able to force my brain to turn my racing thoughts into words, “Oh Eric, I have missed you so much. How is this possible? How are you here? Am I crazy? Is this some trick of the grieving mind, a dream maybe?”. “No Maggie, this is not a dream, you haven’t lost your mind, it’s really me. I’m home and I promise to never leave you again. Come on, let’s get inside, I want to see Lolly”. Still unsure of my current state of mind I turned and followed Eric through the front door. Immediately Lolly came bounding down the staircase, her gorgeous golden coat gleaming brightly in the ray of sun that was peeking through the windows. She ran directly into Eric’s arms plastering his face with hot sticky kisses and nearly knocking him off his feet. I couldn’t believe it, if Lolly could see him then this must be real. Eric is here with me; we are together again. I can’t explain it, but the proof was right in front of my eyes. Lolly got so excited she began going back and forth from Eric to me and then me to Eric, barking loudly and jumping around. Her nails clicking against the hard wood floors and nearly knocking over the vase of fresh daisies on the coffee table. “I don’t remember putting those there and when did I close the doors to Eric’s office? I remember leaving them open when I rushed out a few moments ago”. As the realization that something was wrong set in, I heard a woman’s voice from upstairs, “Lolly! Would you quiet down?” The voice was soft and vaguely familiar. “I don’t know what has gotten into you.” Growing closer she said, “First, you insist on sitting in that office for months and now that I’ve coaxed you out, you’re yipping and yapping like you’ve lost your mind”. It was my sister Mary, identical to me in every way. Dark brown hair, big green eyes, and an enduring optimistic world view. “What was she doing here in my house in Chattanooga nearly 1200 miles from her home in New Hampshire? She couldn’t even fly in for Eric’s funeral. Her life was simply to demanding”. She reached down to shush Lolly with a scratch behind the ear completely ignoring that a dead man was standing right in front of us. “Mary what on earth are you doing here?”, I asked. “I know you are probably wondering how Eric is even here and I honestly can’t begin to explain”. Mary walked right past us to the front door and peeped through the curtained window. Glancing at Lolly she said, “See, you crazy dog, there is absolutely no one there”. Astonished that she had zero reaction to what I could only describe as a miracle I said, “Hello, earth to Mary. Are you going to answer me?” when she didn’t respond again, I began to panic. Eric grabbed my hand, “Love, there’s something we need to talk about”. I’d hope it could wait, but you’re confused, and I can’t let you get lost in your mind. It’s not good for us. It can tarnish our souls”. “I don’t understand”, I said, “Why can’t Mary hear me? Doesn’t she see us standing here? Can’t she see that Lolly is so excited because your back from the dead? I really am losing my mind”. A sob escaped my throat, as Eric led me into his office and for the first time I realized that we did not open the door to enter. He simply started in that direction and there we were inside his office with the door still closed. “How did we get in here?”, I asked. My mind was racing with so many impossible possibilities. With his hand he gestured toward the leather sofa by the window, “Maggie, sit down.” I sat down and he nodded at a picture frame on his desk, which oddly did not hold the decorations that it did before. In fact, the room was drastically different with new wallpaper and curtains. “Eric please tell me what’s going on”, I pled. “Look at the picture sweetheart. What do you see?”. In the small white frame was my picture and above it ‘Always in our hearts’ was written in silver.” Always in our hearts? What is that supposed to mean?”, I shouted “Think love. I cannot tell you; you must come to it on your own. Think.” He urged. “What is the last thing you remember before seeing me?”. “Well, I finished your manuscript, and I was going to put it in the mail when I saw you in the street.” “Ok. Good. Do you remember anything else? What did you do before you came outside?” I thought about it, replaying the morning in my mind, trying to recall each detail. “I sat down at your desk with a bottle of rum to reread the final few chapters that I’d written for your book. Excited it was finished, I printed it then and put it in the envelope. I may have had a bit to much to drink and the fact that this was the last thing you worked on before you died hit me like a heavy wave smashing into the rocks along the New England coast. I drank some more”. It was all coming back to me, the booze, the pain, the longing ache for my dead husband. It was all too much. Eric was nodding as I slowly began to understand what was happening. “I remember now. I grabbed the gun from your desk, and I held it under my chin”, sobbing I said, “and then I pulled the trigger”. “Yes.” Eric said, “You did.” When your friends couldn’t get you to answer the door or the phone, they got worried and called for a welfare check”. “Love, you’ve been gone for 6 months”. Suddenly I felt a sense of sadness and longing wash over me. “What have I done? My God. I’m dead. That’s why you’re here. That’s why Mary can’t see us or hear us”. “Yes love.” Eric sighed, “that’s right. “What about Lolly?”, I asked. “She can still see us because dogs have a keen sense for spirits”. Eric stood facing the window. I made my way to his side. He took my hand into his and pressed it against his lips, a sort of calm washed over me.” What now?” I asked. Eric looked at me with piercing blue eyes and replied, “I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for you. You know how I hate to leave things undone”.