NFDP
Tim with Blu about 2 year ago
I sat in
bed this morning with my favorite new book, the boys fighting for prime
real estate on each shoulder when I heard the most ungodly noise.
It
was either a plow, scraping the pavement in search of snow now long
gone, or there had just been a very nasty auto accident. I bounded out
of bed, pulled up the blind and peered out the window. All was very
quiet now, but I saw two large SUVs silently coasting slowly away from
each other in opposite directions, like two big burly prize fighters
retiring to their respective corners following a violent meeting.
My
heart raced as I fumbled around searching for the phone to call 911.
After reporting the proper coordinates, I hung up and threw on my sweats
and raced downstairs and out the door to see if I could do anything to
help. Outside, a passerby was frantically running from corner to corner
searching for street signs where there were none. I yelled over to him
that I had already reported the location and the police were on their
way. He said the two drivers seemed shaken but alright when I asked if
there was anything I could to to help.
I stood for a
few moments to access the situation and realizing there was nothing I
could do to help I returned to my front door. As I reached for the
doorknob I realized that I had made a similar, panicked 911 phone call
almost one year ago to the day after scrambling, terrified out of bed.
The only missing component this time was the sick feeling in the pit of
my stomach over what I knew I would find when I reached Tim's side.
Can
it possibly be a full year? So many thoughts, so many different
emotions. I sat and thought about it as I watched more emergency
vehicles and police cars arrive before returning to my book.
Then,
in what seemed like no time at all, the manic running about, the
flashing lights, the concerned on-lookers were all gone. It was as if
nothing had ever happened. Take away the dented cars and wounded drivers
and it's as if it never happened....
"Would you take Mrs. Berry outside so that we can take Mr. Berry from the house?"
My
friend, who had rushed right over when I called her that morning,
gently took my arm and guided me to the patio outside. Once there we
chat, I can't recall about what. I'm dry-eyed, composed, watching myself
from across the yard wondering when this horrible nightmare will end so
I can wake up and tell Tim how awful it felt. I'm reminded of the many
times I joined her on the patio while she grabbed a smoke during a break
in our jam sessions with her husband. Only once, for one very brief
second do I let the horror in that Tim is being taken away from our home
for the very last time by strangers. They are carrying him down the
very stairway we'd climbed just hours ago for the very last time.
"This is now a crime scene Mrs. Berry."
I
watch the Long Island Medium on TLC constantly. I feel comfortable with
the bereaved. I can relate to every word they say, every emotion,
longing, every fear. I used to avoid everything that reminded a loved
one could disappear in one blind second, never to return again. A friend
of ours wrote recently to apologize, calling herself a weenie for not
being able to come see me, admitting that if it could happen to us it
could happen to her and she wasn't prepared to face that. I so
appreciated her honesty knowing I would definitely get my weenie on if
the situation were reversed.
We were a unit. If you saw
one, you saw the other. We'd rejoice at the sight of one another if we
unintentionally ended up in the same isle of a supermarket we were
shopping in, as if we hadn't seen one another just moments before. We
were as amazed as anyone who knew us how perfectly we fit together. We
developed our own language, would understand each other fully with a
fleeting glance and could even communicate without speaking.
And
so on the one year anniversary of Tim leaving us, it dawns on me how
foolish it would be to let a little thing like death keep us apart.
Seriously. I'm getting the hang of this "long distance" relationship
thing. I wear my wedding ring and his. I send myself flowers complete
with cards from him on fitting occasions. I have conversations with him
constantly, laugh out loud at memories we shared and more times than not
here lately, feel very comforted and content.
Friends
urge me to get out, move on, get back in the game, get back on the
horse and all manner of "new start" sports metaphors and I so appreciate
their caring.
But I am very much still very married to
Timothy Francis Berry and will be until the end of time and beyond. You
know when you've found THE one. There's a feeling of complete certainty
that leaves not a shadow of a doubt that there isn't anything that can
keep the two of you from being together. Not age difference...not race
or ethnic background...not family or well meaning friends...not
religious differences, spiritual beliefs or lack thereof. Nothing. Not
even death! And as the shock of his leaving becomes more and more a
reality, it becomes clear to me that indeed, he's never left.
We are one forever, until we meet again my love, you are my heart.
