It's You Read Free Page B

We are all still sad. I’ve secretly begun to think we, who loved Andrew, will never be happy again. Hisfather, his mother, me . . . we’re functioning, but not living, not the way one wants to live.
    A lump fills my throat, making it ache as I swallow.
    “Do you need a ride to the airport?” Dr. Morris asks, changing the subject.
    I shake my head, even though I haven’t actually thought that far. Can’t seem to think clearly right now. There’s so much white noise in my head. And this unbearable weight on my heart.
    “What time is your flight?”
    “I haven’t booked it yet.”
    “I imagine then that you probably won’t see your father until tomorrow.”
    “I’m hoping to join him for lunch.”
    “That’ll be nice.”
    “Hope so.”
    “When was the last time you saw him?”
    I have to think. Since I didn’t make it Easter it was . . . it was . . . “Christmas.”
    It’s been too long. I’ve not been an attentive daughter. I should have been up to see him several times since. But Napa isn’t home, and his senior retirement home isn’t where I want him to be. After mom died, I thought he’d want to come live with me, in Scottsdale. He didn’t, choosing to move into the retirement home instead. It’s not close or convenient for my work. I’d give up my practice here, but that would leave Dr. Morris alone.
    I look up into Andrew Morris II’s eyes and see things I don’t want to see.
    He misses Andrew terribly. Andrew was his son, his heir. The future. Not just in life, but the next generation to run the dental practice. From the time Andrew was a boy, he was going to be part of the Scottsdale practice. It was going to be Morris and Morris.
    Instead it’s Morris & Associates.
    I’m the associate. Andrew’s fiancée.
    • • •
    I ’m able to book a flight out while still at the office, and once home, I quickly pack for two weeks. Dr. Morris is taking me off the books for the first half of June as well, but I can’t imagine being gone that long. I’m not someone who likes to sit around. I prefer working. I need to be active.
    Andrew used to say I loved nothing more than a long to-do list. I’d make a face at him, rolling my eyes. But he was right. I’m most comfortable being busy, making plans, having places to go, even if it’s just to the grocery store. I have an ongoing list for that, too.
    Add on.
    Cross off.
    Accomplished.
    I’m all about the doing. And now Andrew is gone and I’m cracked. Broken. So broken I can’t even make a single list.
    Don’t know what to do anymore.
    Don’t know where to go.
    • • •
    T he shuttle picks me up on time but traffic is terrible on the way to Phoenix International Airport. I’m panicking that we’re not going to get to the airport before they start boarding. It shouldn’t be this long of a drive. I close my eyes, stressed. Eyes closed, I focus on just breathing.
    Inhale to a count of ten. Exhale to a count of ten. Inhale . . .
    As I breathe my thoughts drift to Dad. I have his shoes in my suitcase. I hope he’ll like them. I hope I got the right size. I’m pretty confident he’s a size eleven. Or a ten and a half. Maybe he’s a tenand a half, and in that case the elevens would be too big, particularly with his balance issues.
    In the past I could have texted my mom and she’d text me back right away, giving me his size. She was good about getting back to me right away. Always. Mom was a former teacher turned principal. She died five months after Andrew. Had an aneurysm in August. It happened in her sleep. So glad she didn’t suffer. But nobody saw that one coming, either.
    To lose both Mom and Andrew in less than six months . . . Still trying to wrap my head around life. How it happens. How it ends.
    I don’t even feel as if I’m grieving. I’m not sure what grieving is supposed to feel like. I’ve no one to talk to about this. Certainly can’t discuss it with Dad and I don’t have friends who have lost anyone other than a