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The Painting
Down in the Dirt, v158
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Mourning Together

Christina Basher

    The bottle of Jack Daniels sits on the table in front of me, half empty. With my knees pressed against my chest, I wipe the tears from under my eyes. Each day passes and I stay there watching the bottle until it becomes empty. Hands gently touch my shoulders and I don’t take my eyes off of the Jack.
    “It’s time for you to shower,” my husband, Garrett says.
    He walks around and kneels down in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and exhale.
    “Come on, Honey,” he says rubbing my arm.
    I let him help me out of the chair and he lifts me into his arms. My head finds his shoulder and I close my eyes. He smells like lemons and soap; I love that smell. He has already drawn a bath and steam swirls over the water. My feet touch the cold tile as Garrett sets me down. With my hands hanging at my sides, he gently removes my clothes and sets them aside.
    He lifts me up and gently sets me into the steaming water. My body embraces the warmth and I bring my knees to my chest. Garrett kneels down next to the tub and gently rubs a washcloth over my body. I lean my head back and let him wash my hair with a lavender scented shampoo. Once he finishes, he helps me out of the tub and dries me off.
    With the towel wrapped tightly around me, Garrett leads me to the bedroom and helps me into my pajamas. Once I am dressed, he helps me into the bed and I lay there with my eyes open staring at the plain white ceiling.
    “I’m going to go take a shower,” Garrett says as he kisses me on the forehead and leaves the room.
    The room feels like it is closing in on me and the blankets feel like they are wrapping tighter and tighter around me. I push the blankets away and walk out of the room and into the hallway. Running my hand along the wall, I stumble my way into the next room. My fingers find the light switch on the wall and I flip it on. My heart beats faster and my chest squeezes tight.
    Bright yellow walls stare back at me and I walk over to the crib sitting under the large window straight ahead. I reach into the crib and grab the light blue blanket from inside and hug it to my chest. Scanning the rest of the room, I see the toys that were left on the nightstand and changing table. The blanket slips out of my hands and I walk over to the toys and push them off of the surfaces. They clatter to the floor and I scream, tears streaming down my face. I grab the lamp and throw it against the wall. The bulb shatters and glass flies across the room.
    Dropping to my knees, I crawl forward and grab the blanket. Garrett comes running into the doorway, shirtless and wet with a towel wrapped around his waist.
    “Aria? What’s wrong?” he says running to my side.
    Garrett looks around the room and then back at me.
    “Your hands are bleeding.”
    I look down at my hands gripping the blanket and see the deep red blood. Lifting my shaking hands, I hold them up and see small pieces of glass still stuck in certain spots. Garrett grabs me and carries me back to the bathroom.
    While Garrett looks for the tweezers, I hold my hands out in front of me with my palms up. Tears drip from my cheeks onto my hands and my heart aches more than before.
    “You should have stayed in bed. I meant to clean out his room last week but I haven’t had time.”
    As he turns around, I search his deep brown eyes for something I can’t find. It has been nearly one month and yet it feels as if it was just yesterday. My lips part as I try to say something but then I stop and look away, biting my lower lip.
    “Aria, please say something. I miss you, we haven’t spoken since the funeral.”
    With my eyes closed, I remember each moment of that day as if it happened just minutes ago. The tiny casket laying on the table in front of me, there shouldn’t even be a reason for a casket so small to exist. Garrett picks out the pieces of glass with the tweezers and then cleans my hands. After he wraps them in gauze, he helps me walk back into the bedroom and wraps me in the blankets.
    Once he has pulled on some boxers and pants, he sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me. His muscles are tense and he rubs his hands over his face. As he lays down, the distance between us seems to grow and I feel another emptiness inside my heart.
    Cooper was two when we found out about the cancer. We only had six months with him after that and those were the shortest six months I had ever lived through. Garrett and I watched as our son died painfully.
    As I roll over the next morning and look at the clock, I see it is nearly 12:00 in the afternoon. I push myself out of the bed and find myself standing in the doorway of Cooper’s room. The glass has been cleaned up and most of the furniture has been removed. Garrett sits in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Cooper’s teddy bear pressed to his chest.
    His back is to me and his shoulders shake. I hear the gentle sounds of his sobs and finally I see what I searched for in his eyes last night. Garrett had only cried at the funeral and I realize now that he has been crying, just not in front of me. He was being strong for me.
    My feet move toward him and before I realize it, I stand in front of him. His eyes find mine and I sit down on his lap. Garrett wraps his arms around me.
    “I’m sorry,” I say.
    Garrett doesn’t speak and I hold him close as we mourn the death of our son together.



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