One Year Later
Grief is like the deep, dark ocean; it’s bigger than all of us and it’ll consume you if you let it. As I sit in my truck, the window cracked, and my music so low, I can barely make it out, I can’t help but replay the events of the last week.
The phone call I got that rocked me to my core. It dropped me to my knees and stole the air from my lungs. It was a call that brought physical pain to my chest.
The decision to drive up here—one that wasn’t an easy to make. I went back and forth for a solid, drunken twenty-four hours on if I should.
The array of emotions I feel surrounding this very moment, and what’s to come once I step foot inside that church.
Because it’s not just the grief I feel over the life lost that’s got me choking up. That’s got me hesitating to go inside. It’s also about the man I left behind a year ago when I thought I was doing what was right. It’s about the burning anger that sits inside of me, the blame I can’t help but put on him because there’s no fucking way he didn’t know. The anger that comes from the times I asked, the times Itrustedhim to be honest, only for him to have clearly lied. The part I know he played in her death.
Today my niece is being laid to rest. Her final rest. And if I’m being completely honest, I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t know how to process knowing that, seven days ago, she was here, and now she’s not. I don’t know how to process living in a world where she isn’t.
Regret sits heavy on my shoulders today. Regret for everything I’ve done, for everything I could’ve done but didn’t. Regret for leaving when I did. Would things have turned out differently had I stayed? Did I play a role in her death too? Were my feelings for Segan and my departure because of them the nail in her coffin?
I could’ve done more. Could’ve been there more, had I not been so fucking selfish.
It’s funny how much clarity comes after something like this happens. How things that should’ve been glaringly obvious at the time suddenly hit you in the face after the fact. All the signs I should’ve caught before now but was too naïve or blind or just plain stupid.
The change in Lana’s behavior.
The way she became more and more withdrawn.
The fair. That guy. Her new friends. Her behavior that night.
Her birthday. The alcohol poisoning.
All of them were warning signs. Alarm bells I missed because I was so lost in my feelings for Segan. Feelings I never should’ve felt.
And then I left like a coward, knowing if I stayed, something more would’ve happened, and I desperately needed Segan to be there for Lana. I needed to clear my guilty conscience in the only way I knew how. By removing myself.
I. Could’ve. Done. More.
And I should’ve.
I failed her. Segan failed her. This godforsaken place fucking failed her.
Now she’s gone. Forever.
A choked sob claws its way up my throat, hot, angry tears spilling over and cascading down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away, don’t bother calming myself down. She’s gone, and I deserve to feel all the hurt.
I need to go inside, pay my respects to her.
He’s in there, though. Segan’s in there, grieving. And I don’t know how to talk myself into walking in there and seeing him. To face him. Part of me wants to strangle him, but the other part wants to hold him.
How can I be so furious, but need him all the same? He lied to me. He could’ve helped her.
I can’t go in there and see him. I can’t.
“Fuck! Snap the fuck out of it, Josiah.”
Dragging a hand down my face, I get out of my truck.This is it.The parking lot seems both never ending and too small at the same time. The lobby of the church is quiet, cool, with the AC blowing. Years of memories held in this place—very few good, the rest dreadful. It’s easy finding the room everybody is in, my feet taking me there on autopilot.
As quietly as I can, I pull open the door, and a room full of people who loved Lana come into view. My eyes find Segan immediately. His back is to the door as his focus is toward the front of the room where my brother is speaking. A few heads turn, checking out who just came in late. I don’t focus on them.
Taking a deep breath, I hold it in my lungs for a moment before exhaling. Then, with one foot in front of the other, I walk across the room toward the table Segan’s at. I notice the exact moment he notices me, even if he never turns and looks right at me. His muscles tense, back going ramrod straight.
I sit down beside him, waiting for him to look over at me, but he doesn’t.
