Chapter IV

Sarah squeezed Amy’s hand again and the bedroom faded away. The two friends sat at the kitchen table but there was no Christmas dinner. The kitchen was in perfect order not often, if ever, seen. At least, Amy could never remember it looking so pristine. It was also quiet. The sounds of the children playing and watching tv in the other room had faded away. Only the two women were there and neither of them spoke. Sarah waited for her friend to say something.

“I can’t remember the details of that day,” Amy finally said slowly.  “Why can’t I remember it?  This is the day that changed everything.  Why can’t I remember the details?”

Sarah nodded.  “Maybe the details aren’t important.”

“Not important?” Amy scoffed and looked at Sarah.  Her eyes were red.

Sarah shook her head.  “I just mean, maybe in this case it’s more about the destination and less about the trip.  This was the day you became a single mother.  This was the day that changed the trajectory of your family.”

Amy thought about it.  “This is the day I have to make peace with though, isn’t it? That’s why I’m still here?  That’s why I keep going through it.  So, shouldn’t I be able to remember the details?”

“You will soon enough.  Once you say goodbye and let go of this last thread you will be able to remember everything.”

Amy sighed.  “Not that I want or even could tell you how to do your job but wouldn’t being able to remember this detail be helpful and help me move on?”

Sarah smiled.  “Unless maybe you are focusing on the wrong thing.”

Amy stood up and walked to the sink.  She brought her hands to her head and held it.  “You know, at first, it feels like you are losing your mind.  Memories have blur spots on them like someone took a photograph with their thumb over the lens.  And the spot gets bigger.  Then when they finally confirm your diagnosis, it confirms that, yes, you are losing your mind.  And at the same time it is a comfort to receive the validation and it plummets you into a dark abyss because you know it’s only going to get worse. Certain things you knew once and you knew that you knew suddenly are gone.  That was the hardest time in all this. When I knew just enough to know I used to know.  But then you started showing up and we went on all these trips together.  Trips.  Is that the right word?”

Sarah nodded.  “That’s a good description.”

Amy turned and faced the table but didn’t make eye contact.  “These trips to certain memories of mine.  Except all of the details weren’t quite right.  But you were always there.”  She lifted her eyes to Sarah.  “Who are you?”

“I am your friend, that has never changed,” Sarah said sweetly.  “I am here to help you.”

“Help me?” Amy asked.  “Help me say goodbye.  That’s it, isn’t it? You are here as some kind of guide to help me say goodbye.”

Sarah nodded.

“Why do I keep reliving this day, then?  Why can’t I let go of this day?”

Sarah thought for a moment. “Something about this day is holding you here.”

Amy turned and looked out the window.  Instead of seeing a view of the backyard though she saw a clear mountain vista.  “This day changed everything in my life.”

“Like what?” Sarah asked patiently.

“I had to raise four kids all by myself.”

“Is that all?” 

Amy stood looking out the window.  The scenery kept changing.  Now it was an ocean beach.  “That’s when I had to become tough.  I didn’t have anyone else looking out for me.  I had to do it all.”

“Ah, no one was looking out for you, eh?” Sarah asked in a way that Amy understood as meaningful.

Amy turned and looked at her.  “No, nobody.  I had to do it all on my own.”

“Are you sure you were on your own?” Sarah asked.

Amy nodded.  “Pretty sure.  That much I can remember. There was no one.”

Sarah paused a moment. “What about God?”

Amy scoffed and looked back out the window.

“Isn’t this the day you lost your trust in God?” Sarah asked.  “You hid it well, though.  You still took the kids to church and went through the motions.  But how may prayers did you say the day after?  If I’m not mistaken, you offered up a lot of complaints.  Did you ever trust God to ask for help after that day or did you rely on your own strength?

The silence in the room became more profound.  Amy continued to look out the window.  Sarah sat patiently.  After what felt like a very long time, Sarah said softly.  “Maybe this day isn’t about you letting go of Stewart but more about when you let go of God.  Maybe that’s the relationship you need to mend before you can move on.”

Amy walked back to the table and sat down on a chair.  She didn’t lift her eyes though.  “How do I do that?” her voice was meek and barely audible.

Sarah smiled.  “You ask.”

Next: Chapter V

Previous Chapter III