Rain bounces off the fabric only a few inches above my head. A constant hammering of tiny bullets bears down on the sea of black umbrellas currently sheltering the fake mourners from the driving Chicago rain. The priest stands just a few feet in front of us, yet his words are drowned out by the storm. Or maybe it’s the sound of blood rushing in my ears that makes me struggle to hear what he says.
It doesn’t matter that I can’t hear him. I already know the well-practiced speech falling from his lips. What a kind soul she was. How she was a light in this dark fucking world. Both true.
How God has called her home. Fucking liar. Her home is here. With me.
I step out from beneath the umbrella being held over me and blink up at the gray clouds rolling overhead. I want to feel the rain drip down my face. I want the cold rainwater to soak this goddamn suit—the one that was laid out on the bed for me this morning, as though I’m suddenly incapable of dressing myself. I want to feel anything other than this deep gnawing emptiness that consumes me—eating through my bones and feasting on my soul.
The shadow of the umbrella arches over my head again, and a growl of warning rumbles in my throat.
There’s a sigh of exasperation. The shadow disappears.
A snarling order to leave me alone comes from my younger brother who stands a few feet behind me. I close my eyes and tilt my head to the sky, tuning out the priest’s voice as he raises it a few octaves to be heard over the hammering rain. Water runs down my face, trickling into my ears and down my neck, soaking the crisp collar of my shirt. What if I could drown in this? Open my mouth and let the rainwater fill my throat and my lungs while everyone stands around crying fake tears and holding handkerchiefs to their faces? Or what if I simply opened her casket and crawled inside with her? Took her in my arms and lay with her for eternity, like I was supposed to.
That was the fucking deal, Anya! Forever! You promised me forever.
I see her beautiful face—etched with so much pain despite the drugs given to help ease her suffering. Her final words ring in my ears—my dearest love—and they rip a fresh gaping wound in the center of my chest. If I concentrate hard enough and drown out this entire fucking shitshow of a day, I can still feel her warmth when I held her one last time. As she slipped away in my arms. I felt her passing in every cell of my body, like it was my own death I lived through rather than hers. The devil himself dragged me to hell with the visceral tearing of her soul from this world.
Rage simmers, deep inside my gut, but it’s buried by too much grief and guilt and pain to boil over the surface. How could I, the most powerful fucking man in Chicago, not save her? Despite all my money, my resources, and my family’s name—a name that can move fucking mountains—I couldn’t give her even one more moment. Never have I felt so powerless, so utterly hopeless and alone, as when I watched my wife take her last breath in my arms.
Because I allowed it to happen. I didn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop it.
Tears run down my face, indistinguishable from the freezing rain if not for the sharp contrast of their heat. Maybe I will join her—wait here until they’re all gone and fucking climb in there. Fall asleep and never wake up.
My heart shudders violently, reminding me that it’s broken beyond repair. As if I could fucking forget.
Soft fingers curl around my left hand, slender digits threading through my thick ones. My sister, Joey. And now my right; my sister-in-law, Kat. Hands that are slight and nimble against my own, but too strong for me to pull away from, like vines on the trunk of a tree.
I feel the weight of their concern as they watch me, but I keep my head tilted toward the sky. They squeeze my hands tighter, letting me know they’re still here. Reminding me that their tears are as real as mine. They loved her too. How could they not? Anyone who was given the opportunity to truly know my sweet, beautiful wife couldn’t help but love her. She was the best person I’ve ever known. The best part of me.
And now she’s gone.
And I’m left to endure this life without her. Left with no heart and only half a soul and the knowledge that I’ll never love another woman for the rest of my days. I promised her that when she closed her eyes for the final time, and it’s a promise I will keep with my dying breath.
