“In a year or so, we would have our first baby, a baby boy. We would spend the summer at Oak Island and then you would finally be made partner. We would then have our second baby, a girl. I would quit teaching and stay at home with the kids. We would travel to Tahiti for our 10-year anniversary, leaving the kids with Harry or Stella,” I giggled at the crazy thought of either of them with children. “We would then buy that house on the beach we have been talking about and maybe have our third kid, a boy,” I winked at Jay. It had forever been a discussion of ours whether we would have two or three kids. I wanted three. He wanted two. So I thought we could compromise and have three. “We would then raise them and watch them grow up. They would have my great looks and your brains.” I squeezed Jay’s hand as I joked. “We would watch them play ball or go to ballet, make tons of mistakes, break hearts and have their hearts broken. We would watch them go off to college and we would be there at graduation, hand in hand, for each of them. We would let them pave their own way and when they finally fell in love, we would be able to share in those special moments. You would be able to give our little girl away at her wedding and I would dance with the boys at theirs. They would have kids and make us grandparents. Our house would grow in size and holidays would be loud and filled with lots of food and memories. We would make our own traditions, but we would be together as a family. Then you and I would grow old together and at the very end I would hope we would go in our sleep, together,” I whispered.
I knew it was never to be, but it painted the life we wished for each other. The life we would never get to live out. I leaned over on Jay’s bed and cried. I cried for all those memories I would never get to share but most of all for all the time Jay had been cheated out of. Me? I would get up tomorrow and I would see, hear, listen, and one day at a time, I would heal, but he would never get to do those things. How long would people remember Jay Greenfield before he slipped from their memory? How long would he stay in my memory before I had trouble recalling every detail of his face?
A hand touched my shoulder. Dr. Matthews and Dr. Shippling were there along with the bubbly petite nurse from earlier.
“It’s time,” Dr. Matthews said. I nodded and leaned over and kissed Jay on cheek. I squeezed his hand one more time and whispered, “I love you,” into his ear. It was almost as if that phrase wasn’t enough, but it was all I had. I stepped off to the side as the nurse moved in and starting removing the tubes and adjusting the monitors. As they moved Jay from the room, I couldn’t handle him leaving. I rushed forward and grabbed his hand one more time.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, looking wildly around me.
“Nurse?” the doctor called, directing her attention toward my erratic behavior.
“I got her,” a voice from the hallway called. Harry walked in and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Say good-bye,” he said.
They again started to move Jay and my grip on his hand started to slip.
“No, Jay. Come back!” I yelled as I lost my grip on his hand. “I love you,” I shouted after him. I started to sob and soon my knees grew weak and I couldn’t hold myself up. “I love you,” I sobbed as they continued to wheel him down the hallway until I could no longer see them. Harry set me down on a chair in the room and handed me a box of tissues.
“We all did,” he commented as he watched me cry it out. Soon Stella and Lanie joined me in the room, each consoling me in different ways. Eventually the nurses came in and said we would need to either go to the lobby or move to another room. I gathered up my things and shuffled out of the room. In the hallway Harry and Peter decided to go back to Harry’s apartment. Stella suggested we go home as well. On the ride home I went through the motions of trying to listen as Stella and Lanie laid out the details of what we needed to do next, but I wasn’t listening. I was trying to figure out how to wake up from this nightmare I found myself in. I had been robbed of my past by my parents and now my future had just slipped through my fingertips.
CHAPTER 6
I
t wasn’t even 10 in the morning when we got back to the house. Stella and Lanie insisted I go upstairs and lie down. Lanie even threaten to give me some form of sedative if I didn’t go. Begrudgingly, I headed upstairs and soon drifted off to sleep.
“Jill, it’s time to get up.” Stella was by my side with a sandwich and cup of green tea.
“What time is it?” I mumbled. I felt as if I had been hit by a Mack truck. Again I sat up not realizing what had happened and then all the events came rushing back. I wondered how long that sensation would continue. Would I always wake up with a sense of ease only to be replaced by immediate dread?
“It’s a little after one. I really hate to wake you, but we have to go meet the funeral director and you really need to be there. Those are not decisions Lanie and I can make on your behalf.”
“Sure,” I mumbled, sitting up.
She handed me the sandwich and I did my best to eat as much as I could, but I really didn’t feel like eating. When I was done, Stella instructed me to take shower and meet them downstairs. As I entered the kitchen, I was overwhelmed with all the bouquets of flowers and baskets of food that had appeared.
“They started arriving right after you went to bed,” Lanie explained.
“Who are they all from?” I wondered out loud.
“Friends from school, Jay’s office, coworkers, friends, family and some others I don’t recognize,” Lanie answered.
“Here.” Stella handed me some paperwork and settled me onto the sofa as if I were a child.
“What is this?”
“It’s the paperwork from the lawyer’s office. I figured you would want to read it before we went down to the funeral home.”
She was right. I wanted to read it, but I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do anything. I stared at her in disbelief.
“Now, Jill,” she said, motioning me one more time to read it. I was startled a little bit by her tone but did as she asked. Over the next hour, while I poured through the paperwork, more floral arrangements arrived and several neighbors and friends stopped by to drop off food. Lanie, Stella and I then piled into the car and headed off to the funeral home.
Swanford and Sons had handled the funeral arrangements for my mother nearly 18 years earlier. I was so young when that happened. I had very fragmented memories of the funeral and the days surrounding it. I guess it didn’t matter much as my mom had preplanned everything from the outfit she wore to the music that would be played and the types of flowers people should send. My dad only had to follow her instructions. We arrived outside the large white building with black lettering on the front. It had always looked more like a residence than a commercial business, I thought.
“Mrs. Greenfield?” A large, older man with white hair and a long white mustache greeted us at the door. I nodded and extended my hand.
“I’m Gary Swanford,” he said.
“I’m Stella. We spoke on the phone earlier.” Stella shook the man’s hand as Lanie followed suit.
“Pleasure meeting everyone. Now, Mrs. Greenfield …”
“Jill, please.”
“Very well, Jill. First I want to extend our sincerest condolences during this most difficult time.” Mr. Swanford carried on about how tragic the accident was and showed us around the facility until we ended up in his large office at the back of the building.
“Now, I remember your mother’s service,” he said. This brought me out of my daze and I stared at the man. Was he really the same man from so many years earlier? Given the time that had passed, I thought he could probably pass for the energetic director with jet-black hair who kept sneaking me lollipops during the service.
“You were so young,” he continued. “I never expected to see you back so soon.”
I knew he meant well, but there was something creepy about a funeral director telling people when he expected to see them.
“Perhaps we should get on with the planning. Jill has had a very trying day,” Lanie interjected when she could tell the conversation was going nowhere.
“Oh yes, please sit.” Mr. Swanford gestured to the four chairs that sat around his large desk. “Have you decided on cremation or burial?” he asked.
“I still can’t decide and Jay’s last wishes didn’t make any mention of funeral arrangements.”
The paperwork from the lawyer’s office dealt more with Jay’s wishes about not being left hooked up to machines and how I would be given control over all medical decisions should he not be able to.
“Well, if you do a burial, have you thought where you would buy the plots? Locally or out-of-state? In addition, nowadays, most people go ahead and buy two plots, one for the deceased and one for themselves. Kind of a two-for-one deal,” he said, taking a book out from the bookcase behind his desk and laying it out in front of me. “Of course you’re so young, that complicates matters,” he added.
“How so?” I replied.
“Well, what if you remarry in several years? Then, at the end of your life, you could change your mind and decide you want to be buried next to your new husband, but you already bought this plot. Then you have to consider the family of your new husband. Would they understand that you want to be buried next to some guy you married years prior for a couple years versus their dad whom you have known for 30+ years? Young love is simple but time complicates matters.” He stopped talking to look at me.
“Remarry …?” I stammered. Jay wasn’t even gone a full 12 hours and this guy was already talking about me getting hitched to another guy. I couldn’t even process the statement.
“I know it’s difficult, but these are situations we come across everyday and I just ask you consider them.”
“I really don’t know,” I said, shaking my head.
“Jill, what would you want done if this was you?” Lanie quietly asked.
“I want to be cremated,” Stella interjected.
“I want to be buried,” Lanie said.
The entire idea of being in the cold ground alone was not appealing to me in any way.
“I think at this moment in time I would prefer cremation.” Hearing Stella and Lanie talk about it helped me process the entire ordeal more abstractly.
“Cremation is an excellent choice.” Mr. Swanford pulled another catalog from the bookcase and laid it out in front of me.
“Are you going to prefer cremation after or before the service?”
Gary Swanford was just full of questions, wasn’t he?
“The idea of people coming to a service and not having him there, in one piece, just feels wrong,” I said and both Stella and Lanie nodded their head.
“Then, are you going to need a coffin?” he said, pulling a third catalog from the shelf.
“I guess so,” I said.
We progressed in this fashion for the next several hours going through every possible detail of the service and final cremation. I had wanted a small service at the church Jay and I had married in, which was downtown. After the service, there would be a reception, or “celebration of life,” as Lanie called it, at Jay’s favorite bar, also downtown, called The Draft. Stella had insisted on that.
“Finally, will anyone be speaking at the service?” he asked. I must have given him a confused look because we had already covered the music and what few words I wished the pastor to say.
“Usually, a family member or several family members like to get up and speak during the service to share stories or funny tidbits of the deceased.”
All three of us paused and looked at him. Who would speak? Neither Peter nor Harry was good with words. I didn’t think it was appropriate for anyone from work to say anything and Stella and Lanie were my friends. They hadn’t known Jay on such an intimate level.
“No one needs to speak; it’s not required,” he quickly added when we didn’t say anything.
“I’ll say something,” I finally said.
“What?” Stella and Lanie asked at the same time.
“No offense, Jill, but you’re not really dealing with this whole thing very well. I don’t think that is a good idea,” Stella said.
“I agree,” Lanie added.
“It’s his funeral. How would you feel if no one got up and said anything about you? It’s like the life you led seems less important if there is no one to vouch for you, to speak up in front of everyone, someone needs to say he mattered and he mattered to me,” I said.
“You hate public speaking,” muttered Stella.
“I know but I need to do this. I want to do this,” I said, looking at the funeral director.
“Okay. That takes care of it all. How would you like to pay for it all?” he asked while he totaled up his services.
My mind was reeling. How would I pay for this? Could I pay for this? The bill was in the thousands. I knew we had savings, but would they be enough?
“Do you take Visa?” I asked, pulling out my credit card. I wasn’t even sure my limit would cover the entire thing, but Gary took my card and went to run it at the desk.
“Don’t worry. Once you file with Jay’s life insurance and they send you the payout, it will cover these costs. Jay was a smart man. I’m sure he took out a good insurance policy,” Stella said as if she were talking business with a client.
“Life insurance?” I asked.
“Jay had life insurance, right?” she asked, becoming alarmed.
“Yes. We both do,” I assured her. It just startled me because it was nothing I ever thought we would use. In fact, I still remember sitting with Jay in the insurance agent’s office going through the most boring presentation of my life. Both Jay and the insurance agent were having a lively discussion about extra benefits and add-ons while I counted the ceiling tiles over and over again. The only thing I took away from the conversation was the agent saying, “By signing this you are instantly covered. You could walk out the front door and get hit by a bus and you’ll be covered.” Ironically, it wasn’t a bus. It was a car and it was Jay.
Gary walked back into the office and handed me my card. “You’re all set. Just sign here.” He produced a receipt and contract.
“Am I?” I asked no one in particular.
CHAPTER 7
I
had left the funeral home, feeling completely drained. The memory of the hospital felt like a distant memory. When we arrived back home a little after seven, Stella and Lanie started tackling the endless things that needed to be done before the funeral service. They waved me away when I asked what I should be doing.