Bloom (13 page)

I ignored his excessive gambling, visits to strip clubs, and depressive episodes where he threatened to kill himself if I went out with my friends. I ignored it all. I felt bad for him ... and Abby. I thought I could fix him. Give him a happy life.

I didn’t realize in the process I’d lose my own.

Worried I’d forget something, I checked my bag over and over again. Anastasia had specific instructions and I didn’t want to let her down. After verifying I had everything I needed—for the sixth time—I put on a pair of black flats. Anastasia requested we all wear teal at her funeral instead of black, but I didn’t own anything teal and forgot to buy something, so I asked Ella if I could borrow something of hers. I preferred loose fitting shirts for now. With that in mind, she gave me a teal shirt dress that buttoned down and fell to my knees. I wore black leggings underneath. With my coat, scarf, and intentional hair swooping down the side of my face, I appeared somewhat like the old me.

Part of me didn’t like it though. I wanted to stop hiding. Completely.

I hung the bag over my shoulder and walked downstairs. Ella stood in the kitchen, hunched over the counter crying.

“What’s wrong?” I set the bag down on a barstool and touched her back. “Ella?”

She laughed. “Just these darn onions.”

“Onions?”

“They’re making my eyes water so bad. I can barely cut them without closing my eyes.” She tossed a handful of diced onion and red pepper into a large pot. “Whew. Never had that happen before.”

I walked back to my bag. “I was rather alarmed. I thought maybe you were more normal than it seems.”

She wiped her hands on her apron. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your life seems so perfect sometimes that I want to throw up.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

I laughed. “It just seems like you and Gavin never argue. Everything is golden. Beautiful girl. Gorgeous husband. Sweet baby. Successful business. Dream house.”

“Gavin and I argue.”

“I’ve been here almost five months and haven’t heard a peep.”

“Well, we don’t scream across the house, but we argue.”

“About what?”

“Little things, big things. I don’t know. Sometimes I get annoyed at silly things. I’ll get on him for loading the dishwasher wrong, making the mattress sink, kissing me while I’m drinking something and making it spill down my shirt. Things like that. Or he gets upset with me for pushing my standards on everyone around me and getting mad at people when they make—what I consider—the wrong decisions. We had a disagreement because I wanted to keep Adelaide in the bedroom with us until she turns one, but he said six month max.”

Gavin walked into the room with Adelaide in his arms. “What are you guys talking about?”

“How you guys are more normal than it seems,” I said. “Sometimes it feels like you set an impossible bar for romance and marriage.”

He laughed. “No way. We love each other, but it’s not like we stare into each other’s eyes every night.”

Ella smirked. “Last time we had sex was ... what?”

“Seven months ago,” he said.

“What?” I said. “Why?”

“Ella was uncomfortable the last two months of her pregnancy and we haven’t had a chance since Adelaide.”

“Haven’t had a chance.” I smiled. “Well, you are more real than I thought. Thanks for sharing.”

“Yes,” Gavin said. “Always willing to discuss my failings if it helps another dear soul find meaning and joy in this—”

“Alright, smarty pants,” Ella said. “We’ll see you later, Sarah. I hope everything goes well. Give the family our love.”

I nodded, said goodbye, and closed the front door. It took me a few minutes to walk to my car. The cool air felt so good and I needed to prepare myself for what I was about to endure. Never in my life had I seen a child in a casket and I’m not sure I wanted to.

But I couldn’t let her down.

I stood at the back
of the church feeling quite out of place. Everything whirled by in one huge blur of confusion and strangeness. Eventually I mustered up the nerve to walk inside the sanctuary.

Sophia, Yanni, Mama Koursaris, Kyriakos, Eleni, Vasili, and Natalie sat in the front row of the church, to the right of the open casket. Surprisingly, they weren’t crying.

I sat in the back and watched the service unfold. Most of it seemed incomprehensible to me. I’d never been to an Orthodox service before and most of it was in Greek.

One section stood out to me though. In English the priest said some things about being made beautiful by God, but the word “scars” struck me when he said something like, “Though I bear the scars of my stumblings, have compassion on me.”

After that I tuned out again, dreading the talk Anastasia wanted me to give during her slideshow. Hopefully at a distance no one would be able to see my face. I tried to cover the scars as much as I could.

Together the church sang, “May her memory be eternal,” what seemed like a thousand times until finally everyone left the pews to greet the family in the first row and pay their respects to Anastasia.

I didn’t want to.

I wanted to skirt around her casket and avoid seeing her. It made me nervous. Especially being up there on the altar in front of everyone.

I greeted the family, stopping at Sophia to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She tried her best to remain calm, but her wet cheeks betrayed her.

I turned toward the casket where another person stood, holding Anastasia’s little hand and kissing her forehead. I swallowed and walked up the steps. Hands clasped in front of me, I waited.

The woman in front of me sniffed and stepped away.

There she lay. Flowers in her hands. Picture frames and letters tucked into the edges of her beautifully adorned casket. She wore the dress from our photography session and a cross necklace sparkled on top of her chest. So peaceful.

I cupped my hand over hers and willed the tears away, then kissed her cheek and stepped aside. Surreal. Only a few days ago she reclined on the couch, beaming at our rendition of her favorite movie.

I imagined plenty of adorable memories as I stood at the back of the church.

After everyone said their goodbyes, the family stood one-by-one. Kyriakos and Eleni went first. Then Natalie and Vasili. They all managed to maintain a serene composure.

Finally, Sophia and Yanni stood. Yanni pulled his wife into his chest and helped her up the steps. For a few seconds, they stared at their daughter. The entire church remained so silent I could hear the person in front of me breathe. Sophia held a tissue to her face and leaned forward, resting her head on Anastasia’s chest as she filled the silence with high-pitched sobs. Yanni placed one hand on his daughters head and the other on his wife’s back.

They stayed like that for minutes as many faces in the room watched, blinking, a fresh dew of heartache covering their faces. And mine.

Sophia quieted, then placed her cheek against Anastasia’s. I covered my mouth and closed my eyes, biting back my own tears.

Yanni kissed Anastasia’s forehead, then backed away and pulled Sophia with him. Two men placed their hands on the couple’s back, then, with Yanni’s assistance, they closed the casket. A soft, yet profound thud echoed through the room, stilling everyone with its glaring closure.

“Goodbye, sweet one,” I whispered.

After the burial we
all left the cemetery. My stomach twisted in knots as I drove back to the church. The slideshow didn’t bother me. Standing in front of hundreds of people did. Thankfully Anastasia gave me a letter to read to everyone, although I promised not to open it until it was time to read it. So at least I didn’t have to prepare my own words to stumble over.

People arrived in the church hall a little at a time. When it seemed like almost everyone found a seat and began eating, Vasili walked up to me.

“I’ve got something Anastasia wanted me to show everyone,” he said. “She said for you to do yours right before.”

I nodded.

He stood on a small stage, microphone in hand, and pointed toward a screen.

“Attention, everyone. As many of you know, Anastasia spent the last few months preparing her own memorial service. During that time I saw her writing a lot of letters and asking others to help her plan surprises. I knew she’d eventually ask me for help and sure enough, she did. On December 22 her health severely declined. We hoped she’d make it to the surprise we had for her on Christmas Eve, and she did, barely. On December 23rd she asked me to record a video of her saying goodbye. I’m going to show that video today, but first a dear friend of ours, Sarah Jordan, has something to share.”

The letter in my hands, still sealed, shook terribly as I walked up to Vasili and took the mic. I stood somewhat sideways and positioned myself so my scars were less visible, then handed Vasili a disc. “She wanted this to play.”

He walked away and within a few seconds the slideshow started.

“The pictures taken on this slideshow were shot only weeks before today.” I tapped my foot, hoping to dispel my anxiety. “She wanted me to read a letter while these images were shown. I haven’t read it yet.” I opened it and unfolded the paper. “So here goes.”

Dear family and friends,

A lot of you think of me as happy. It’s true, we have happy memories together, but today I want to admit something.

Daddy always told me to think good thoughts. He said bad thoughts make bad people. I’ve been trying to have good thoughts since they told me I have cancer and when kids at school made fun of me when I got burned. For lots of days I’ve been trying to be happy because I hoped maybe my happy thoughts would keep me alive.

It wasn’t working but I learned something anyway and that’s why I had these pictures taken.

I may be young but I’m not stupid. I knew I was dying for a while and even when people tried to hide the bad news from me I saw it on Mom’s face. I had a lot of bad dreams and thought a lot of bad thoughts until one day it clicked.

I thought I could stay strong for my parents so my last days were happy for all of us, but still write everyone to say the truth.

My truth is that I’ve been sad and angry sometimes. I saw stories of kids who smile until they die of some disease and end up on the news and I secretly wanted to end up on the news too, but that’s not for me.

Because my truth is I haven’t been smiling inside all this time, just outside.

I want to live to be sixteen and drive a car. I want to see my cousins who aren’t born yet. I want to eat Dad’s famous brownies on my birthday next year. I want to have four babies of my own and a cute husband who looks like my dad. I want to travel to Greece and see where my grandparents lived. I want to do a lot of things and I can’t. That’s made me sad a lot, but I smiled for my mom. She couldn’t handle it any other way.

The reason I’m saying this now is because I don’t want to be another story of how dying is easy and happy, because it’s not. I’m excited to meet God and the angels, but I’m sad to leave all of you.

So for my last words I don’t want to pretend anymore and I wish for everyone in the world to stop pretending and hiding all the time. Sometimes there’s bad news and sometimes there’s good news. Sometimes we have pain and sometimes we have smiles.

I died knowing I’d miss all of you and it hurt me to the very last minute. I may not have told you and it’s because I love you. All of you. I didn’t want you to be more upset because of my tears, so I smiled for you, but trust me, I was sad to say goodbye.

Think of me, okay? Think of me as you live another year, and maybe another, and when you feel like giving up or hiding … think of me.

Love always,

Anastasia

I looked into the crowd.
Their faces wore a mixture
of astonishment and pain. Vasili stood beside me and reached for the mic.

“I just have something to add,” I wanted to say, but couldn’t.

My legs turned to rubber as I walked off the stage, arguing with myself.

Turn back and say something. Show them who you really are.

No. It’s embarrassing. This isn’t about you anyway. Be quiet. Stand in the background.

Show them how Anastasia inspired you.

I’m not inspired.

People clapped and stood as the last of Anastasia’s pictures stayed on the screen. Her swinging in the garden, ice shining beneath her, and a huge, genuine smile dimpling her face.

I stood to the side of the stage as Vasili pressed play on the video and waited for it to begin.

Anastasia’s face lit the screen.

“Is it on?” she said. “Oh, the red dot? Okay, it’s on.” She straightened her posture. “Hi Mom, Dad, everyone. By now you’ve already read my letter that I gave to Sarah. If you’re wondering why I chose her, you’ll find out soon enough. I just want to say that since writing that I have come to terms with my death and it’s mostly because Vasili has taught me what life is all about and that it doesn’t matter what I get to experience or not. He told me what really matters is what I leave behind.

“My mom has a special gift she helped me make everyone. We couldn’t make too many because of the time, but we made a hundred. Please take one today and if you don’t get one, you can make one yourself.

“I signed up to do Make-A-Wish. I really wanted to see Greece, but I didn’t get picked. So my wish is changed and now it’s pretty simple. I just wish for everyone else to do something nice for someone every day. Don’t let one day be missed, okay?

“Mom, I love you very much. I was awake all those times you cried and watched me sleep. I remember so many times you would hold me and say you’re sorry for not being a good mom, then you’d pray that God would help you be a better one. I know you feel like you were too busy and didn’t have time for me, but Mom, no mom ever loved a daughter like you love me. Thank you for being the best mom ever.

“Daddy, I’m still your girl. I’ll always be your little girl. My best memory with you is all those times you put me on your shoulders and the one time I had ice cream. You kept telling me to be careful and sure enough my ice cream dripped on your face. A huge glob. I thought you were going to yell and put me down, but instead you said, ‘Thanks,’ wiped it onto your finger, and ate it. Thank you for always making me feel like I was loved and not a burden like some of my other friends dad’s do. I spilled cereal all over the floor once and you said, ‘Well, now. That’s an interesting way to eat cereal.’ You taught me to be patient and kind and never let mistakes mess up my day. Thank you, Daddy, for being the kind of prince I wanted to find one day.