They snuggle in farther, and I just let them cry while I rub their backs. There are no words that will make this better. There is nothing I can do to make the hurt go away; it will just take time. We lay together, allowing each other to feel our loss. One by one, we cry ourselves to sleep in the safety of mine and Will’s bed. The lingering smell of his cologne on his pillow surrounds us, and we breathe in the final pieces that we have left of him.

Vivian

It has almost been one year since my world crumbled beneath my feet. One year since my home was ripped away from me. Before Brooks and Will, I had never believed in love, but after them, I now not only believe in love, but I know how badly it can burn you. Brooks took my heart and handed it back to me completely shattered. But Will…he didn’t just tape the pieces back together, he super-glued it, and when he died, he took my patched-up heart with him.

While I grew to love the town that I hated growing up, after Will, it became suffocating. That’s how I referred to life these days, before and after Will. For the brief time that I had him, he made my life and my heart right. Now, my life could never be the same; there was a hole that would never be filled.

I tried going back to work in my same little school, but it became too difficult. My friends would give me their best looks of compassion, but I could tell they just didn’t know what to say. And really, there wasn’t anything they could say to make it better. It was never going to be better again. They treated me like I was a glass doll, and they were all waiting for me to break; too late though, I am already broken.

Life became my childhood all over again. I knew I was the hushed topic of conversation around town. Everyone wondered if I was okay, or what they could do to help the kids and me. For the life of me, I tried to appear all right¸ but God, I just couldn’t face their sad looks of pity any longer. Every time someone would put their arm around me and ask how I was, it was like reliving that day all over again. I knew that they meant well, but I was tired of feeling the pain. I needed a new feeling, even if that meant I felt nothing.

Amanda was the only one to pull off the white gloves and call bullshit. She gave me a week in my jammies after the accident before she hauled my ass to the shower and forced me to get my shit together. My flake of a sister was the strongest I had ever seen her. She helped with funeral arrangements, made sure that Blake and Emma were fed and bathed, and made sure I was functioning. Yep, my little sister yanked the covers off my head and snapped me back to reality.

So when she showed up two weeks ago, I knew I was in for another Amanda intervention, but this time, instead of making sure my hair was combed and my shirt was not inside out, she was going to do a makeover on my entire life. She knew I needed to get on with things, if not for me, for the kids; she knew I needed to leave and start over. So after everything was settled with the courts and the insurance companies, Amanda offered that we move to Denver and find a place together. It was my chance to start fresh; to save Blake and Emma from the childhood that I had.

My days are now filled with my kids. Between all of the settlements and pension, I really don’t need to work, and so I load my days with my kids’ activities. When they are at school, I find it therapeutic to write. I write articles about children, being a single parent, education, book reviews, I blog about everything, and I have started submitting freelance articles to various magazines. Amanda would argue that I’m avoiding life, and that I’m hiding behind my computer. I would call it trying to survive each day when I can barely find enough air to breathe.

“Momma, what are you looking at?” Emma snaps me out of my daydream. I shake my head and take her hands into mine, wiping off some of the dirt she had gotten into on the playground.

“Nothing baby, I’m just thinking.”

“Are you thinking about Daddy?” She asks this often, and I’ve tried to keep his presence in the house, letting them know that even though Will’s not with us, he can still watch us from Heaven and be proud of us. It kills me though, every time I have to answer the question. Blake has been a little quieter about Will; Emma though, she’s four and missed the memo about having a filter.

I lean down and swing her into the air; damn, she’s getting to big too do that. I settle her on my hip and she lets out a little giggle. “Yes, baby, I was thinking about how excited your daddy would be that you are starting preschool at your new school. School starts in about a month; are you getting excited?”

Her eyebrows furrow slightly, and I brush the bits of hair that have fallen out of her braid away from her face. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” I ask, trying to capture her attention.

She looks away from me and quietly responds, “What if I don’t have any friends at my new school? I don’t want to be the new kid.”

I wrap her legs around my waist and sit down on the park bench that overlooks the playground equipment. I place my fingers under her chin to bring her eyes to mine. “Do you remember when we went to the carnival last year, and you were so scared to ride the carousel?”

Her bewildered expression almost has me laughing. “Yes, that horse was huge, and I’m small! If I fell off, I could have broken my arm like Blake did when he fell off the trampoline!” Her eyes are huge, and her hands fly around animatedly as she describes what could have been a tragic life moment for her.

“I remember, but you really wanted to go didn’t you?”

“Yes. Blake told me that he would hold me up so I wouldn’t fall, so I got brave and got in line.”

“We couldn’t get you off that white sparkly horse the rest of the day; what did you name him?

“Stormy. He had magic powers; he made me not afraid and I didn’t even need Blake.” By this point, her smile is huge, and even more of her blonde curls are falling down from her rambunctious story telling.

“You were brave, and you had so much fun that day. Well, baby, that’s how preschool at the new school is going to be. Aunt Amanda went and saw it, and she told me that it looks so fun and the teachers are very nice. I think if you can be brave enough to start the day, you will love it by the end of it.”

She gives me her best thinking-it-over look before exhaling a long sigh, “Ok, Momma, I’ll be brave.”

“Besides, you are one of the coolest chicks I know; all the kids will just love you!” I smile and tickle her as she lets out a loud screech.

Blake hears our laughter and comes running over from the swings. “Quick, Blake, get her! She needs more tickles!”

He hops onto the grass and joins in the fun, helping to playfully attack his little sister. Then I grab him and hold him to the ground to tickle him as well. When our stomachs and cheeks can’t handle any more laughter, we lay back on the grass to catch our breath and look for shapes in the clouds.

It’s moments like these that I really miss Will. My tears of sadness quickly replace my tears of joy. It’s not fair that these great kids won’t know their father, or that he won’t get to share these small but wonderful moments with them. I just hope I can love Emma and Blake enough for both of us.

I pull them both into my arms, kiss their heads, and breathe in their strawberry kiddo shampoo. “I love you guys,” I murmur into their hair. “I know this move is scary, but we are a team, and I know we can do anything if we stick together. I think this will be good for us.”

They both curl into me, snuggling in tight. “Ok, Momma,” Blake says.

“Ya, me too,” Emma adds, “but I don’t want to be on the team; I want to be the cheerleader.”

“Deal,” I chuckle. “Look out, Denver! Here we come.”