Kevin's Grief

I was on the dance floor, twinkling lights overhead, classic oldies playing tunes. My new bride and I had finished our first dance. She was absolutely radiant. Her white dress tucked in at her tiny waist, and her cascading train swished as she walked. Now we were trying to rake in the dough for our honeymoon by doing the money dance. She had a row of 15 men lined up behind her, waiting to give her cash for a dance. So far I had danced with my sister, my grandma, and my great-aunt Teresa.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grace. She was one of my good friends from college and I had a feeling she was just coming over because she felt sorry for me. I wasn’t sure if I should have invited her to the wedding, considering my past feelings for her, but my wife convinced me that it was fine. Well, that’s not the whole truth. My wife doesn’t know the whole story. There wasn’t that much to tell. I was turned down.

Grace smiled as she walked up to me. She held out a twenty. I took her hand as the DJ put on the next song. I didn’t really say anything to her, since I was watching my wife dancing eight feet away from me with one of the groomsmen. Grace leaned into me, so that her mouth was right near my ear.

She whispered, “Out of everybody, I loved you the best. I wanted you the most.”

My gut jumped. Why was she telling me this now? On the day of my wedding? It’s what I wanted her to say four years ago, not now. Definitely not now.

“Why are you telling me this? What do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing,” she said softly. “I’ve never wanted you to do anything. I just need you to know that I love you. I don’t need anything back.”

What was I supposed to say? I loved you before. Before her. Before my new wife. I took a step back from Grace. I could tell she was about to cry. But really? You don’t tell someone that you love them the day of their wedding. Not after the ceremony, anyway. I was at a loss for what to do, but Grace took her cue from the ending song. She disappeared into the throng of guests and left me puzzled on the dance floor. My wife came to my rescue, and I gave her a kiss before we started our next dance together.

We left for our honeymoon that night, and I didn’t see Grace again. My wife and I spent two and a half weeks in the Bahamas, and then we came home. On the next lazy Saturday my wife and I began to unpack all of our wedding gifts. I was reading the paper and found the Milestones page. There was our wedding photo in it, with a short blurb about the two of us. On the page opposite the weddings and birthdays were the obituaries. I nearly fell over when I saw it. There was her picture, staring back at me. Grace. I couldn’t believe it at first, or even a second or third time. Why had no one called me? How does Grace die at age 26? I still didn’t really believe it when I dialed her parents’ number.

“Mr. Parker? This is Kevin. I saw the paper.”

“You should come over,” was all he said.

I knocked on the door and it opened immediately. Mr. Parker gave me a hug, and I could tell he had been crying. He tried to explain it to me. That it wasn’t a surprise; it was just a matter of time. That she had made it longer than the doctors expected. I didn’t get it.

“How could she have been sick that long? She was studying abroad for a whole year in Ecuador our sophomore year of college.” That was her excuse for why she couldn’t be with me. She would be gone.

“Oh sweetie.” Mrs. Parker said. “Gracie didn’t spend a year in Ecuador. She went for three weeks because it was her dream, but after that she spent the rest of the year at a specialty hospital in Colorado.”

What?

“I have a letter for you. Gracie wrote it a few weeks ago. Right after you got married, actually. About a week before she died.” Mrs. Parker went to a room and came back with a white envelope. I opened it on the spot.

Dear Kevin,

I love her, too. I love her because you need her. She knows. She always did. You don’t know this, but I found her for you. I told her she needed to love you, because the day would come when I wouldn’t be there to. I know how much you loved me, and if you had known about me, I know what you would have done. But then you would have been all alone now, wouldn’t you? Really, all I wanted is for you to love her more than me, because I love you so much that I never want you to be alone. You have her now, and that’s what I was holding on for.

I loved you yesterday.

I love you today.

She will love you tomorrow.

Peace be with you,

Grace

 It was too much. I started to sob. All those years ago, when Grace would e-mail me “from Ecuador,” she was really sick in a hospital bed. That was about the same time I met my wife. I told Grace how I was going to a church group that met on Tuesday nights, and a few weeks late I met my wife there. Grace was e-mailing me about how much she loved Ecuador, about how great the food was, about how different the culture was, and about how she thought she might move there permanently if she could.

I thanked the Parkers for their time, offered my condolences, and cried some more on my drive home.

My wife was organizing the kitchen when I got there.

“How much did you know?” I asked, waving the letter.

She wrapped her arms around me and said, “Oh Honey…I loved you yesterday. I love you today. I will love you tomorrow.”