As part of my clerical work, I remember counseling widows and widowers who were concerned about remarrying, or even dating again. It’s an inevitable part of the grief process, to feel guilt over “replacing” your spouse with a new relationship. But the ones who got over that hurdle were the ones who ended up the happiest, at least in my experience.
I know I tried to put myself in their shoes and wondered what I would do in their situation, but in all honesty, I don’t remember ever talking to Leighanne about it. Stupid as it sounds, coming from a guy who’s officiated funeral services for people of all ages, I guess I just never expected to find myself in that situation, at least not for a long, long time. Leighanne and I were the kind of couple that was going to grow old together; I was just sure of that. Even if she went first, I assumed I wouldn’t be far behind her.
But here I am, a widower at the age of thirty-three. Who knows how much longer I’ll be able to survive in this world, but I do know one thing: I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet. Even if I was, I never would; it wouldn’t be fair to the others. As far as we know, we may be the only ones, the only eight survivors of the zombie apocalypse – assuming Kevin, Nick, and Riley are still alive out there somewhere. If they aren’t, then there’s just five of us left. We have to do all we can to guarantee our survival.
I know Leighanne would want me to go on with my life, to make the most of this precious gift I’ve been given and the time I have left. I just feel so torn over the thought of moving on without her…
Friday, November 2, 2012
Week Twenty-Eight
It was after midnight and raining hard in Florida. From his vantage point on the back porch, Brian looked out into the storm and wondered if it would ever stop.
He thought the rainy season was supposed to be over, even if the hurricane season wasn’t, but it had been damp and dreary for days. Work on the wall had been delayed, and instead, he and the others been cooped up inside their houses, restless and bored. It was actually a relief to be sitting outside, under the roof of the porch, keeping watch. The rain had a way of making the air smell fresh again, as if it had washed away the stink of the undead. It was only once it stopped that they would smell the stench of rotting flesh coming off the bloated bodies that roamed outside their walls. In the long run, the rain made it worse – wet corpses stunk even more than dry ones did.
Maybe it won’t stop this time, thought Brian. Maybe the rain would fall for forty days and forty nights, as it had in Noah’s time, when the Lord had flooded the earth to rid it of the wickedness of humankind. Maybe, this time, God intended it to wash away all that was unclean and undead, to rid the world of its walking corpses. Unless, of course, the plague of zombies had been sent as a warning, a punishment, like the ten plagues of Egypt. Brian swallowed hard; the mere thought left a bad taste in his mouth.
This must have been what Noah felt like on the ark, waiting for the flood waters to recede, putting his faith in the Lord who had chosen him that everything would turn out all right in the end. Brian wished he had Noah’s faith, but his had been shaken. He felt anxious, alternating between the belief that Kevin, Nick, and Riley were still alive, and the knowledge that they were probably never coming back. The tug of emotions made him feel trapped. How long was he supposed to wait there, praying for their return, before he gave up hope?
I wish you’d give me a sign, Father, he spoke silently, directing his thoughts toward Heaven. He clasped his hands and bowed his head, pleading for guidance. I don’t know what to do or how to feel. If they’re gone, I just want to know for sure, so I don’t have to keep on wondering.
Then a light appeared over his head. He felt its warmth as he was cast into its golden aura, and he gazed up in surprise.
It was only the porch light.
The screen door opened, and Gretchen stepped out onto the porch. “Still awake out here?” she asked softly.
“Still awake,” he responded, smiling at her. He scooted over to one side of the porch swing and patted the spot next to him. She came over and sat down. “Still raining,” he added, opening up the blanket he’d wrapped himself in and throwing one side over her shoulders.
She snuggled up closer to him, drawing the blanket tighter around herself. “I don’t mind it, though,” she replied. “I’ve always loved rain.”
“What is it with you women and rain?” he asked, smiling over at her again. He remembered Riley saying the same thing. He wondered if it was raining where they were. He could just imagine her playing outside in the rain, twirling around with Nick while Kevin yelled at the two of them to get back inside before the zombies smelled them. Then the vision changed, and instead, he saw her lying in a puddle, lifeless and cold, her face half buried in mud. He felt a sick, sinking feeling, and the smile faded from his lips.
Gretchen laughed, unaware of his mental torment. “I dunno. There’s just something sort of peaceful and romantic about a nice, light rain like this. It makes me want to curl up in bed with a good book… or a good man.”
Caught off-guard by this last comment, Brian looked over at her in surprise. A little smile was playing on her lips. Was she just thinking of her husband, he wondered, or hinting at something different? He was tempted to find out, to lean over and kiss those lips and see how she responded, but when she turned her face toward him, he lost his nerve.
“And you’re volunteering to sit out here in the cold instead,” he said, chuckling to cover up the momentary awkwardness. “You don’t have to, you know.”
He saw the smile slip from her face, but in an instant, it was back, tighter-looking this time. “I told you, I don’t mind. I like being a night owl.”
With so few of them left on the base, they had given up on guarding the main gate. Instead, they’d started sleeping in shifts again, leaving someone to sit outside at all hours of the night, just in case. Since Jo’s death, they had been more cautious than ever about protecting each other. They kept watch in three-hour blocks, giving everyone a chance to get some sleep. Brian took the first watch, from nine o’clock at night until midnight. Gretchen relieved him, staying up until three. Then AJ, who insisted he was used to sleeping during the day anyway, rolled his wheelchair out onto the porch of the house he shared with Howie and now Gabby to keep a look out until six a.m., at which point Howie, the early bird, got up to stand guard while the others slept in. It was a solid arrangement that made them all feel safer and sleep more soundly. Still, Brian always hated to leave Gretchen in the middle of the night. He had a hard time falling asleep, knowing she was sitting outside alone.
Over the past six months, he had come to care deeply for Gretchen, maybe more than he wanted to admit. He felt closer to her than anyone else on the base, closer than he’d expected to feel, so soon after losing Leighanne. The pain was no longer raw, but it was still there, beneath the surface, and it felt like a betrayal to even consider feeling more than friendship towards Gretchen. But she reminded him of Leighanne, in a way.
On the surface, they were completely different. Leighanne had been blonde and beautiful, with a warm, bubbly personality to match her cheerleader physique. Gretchen was pretty, but plain, with a quiet, more reserved disposition that seemed to fit her mousy brown hair and soft features. She resembled his late wife in other ways, though, through her sweet and caring nature. Leighanne had been the perfect Southern housewife and mother, putting her family first above all else. Gretchen was the same way. She was a nurturer, a natural fit for the matriarch role Jo had left behind. Brian was sure she had been a wonderful wife to Shawn and would make an excellent mother someday, if she ever got the chance. He admired these qualities about her, the same way he had loved them in Leighanne.
Lately, he’d found himself fantasizing about a future with Gretchen, but he was afraid to make a move on a woman who was just beginning to regard herself as a widow, and he mentally scolded himself for even considering it. He couldn’t imagine Gretchen was anywhere near ready for another relationship. He wasn’t sure he was, either. It was just that he had a lot of time to think on the base, about what had been, and what could be. He got lonely, too… especially at night.
“You should get some sleep. Don’t worry about me.” Gretchen was still smiling at him, but he caught the hint. He wasn’t ready to go inside yet, but he knew she was right. He got up slowly, his bones cracking as he stretched out his arms and legs, stiff from sitting still so long. His body wasn’t as young as he liked to think; it needed a good night’s sleep.
“Wake me up if you need anything,” he told Gretchen.
“I will. Goodnight, Brian.”
“’Night, Gretch,” Brian replied and reluctantly went inside. He wandered upstairs to his bedroom, across the hall from the one Gretchen shared with Riley, where he undressed and crawled into bed.
Lying in the dark, he spoke to God for longer then usual, praying for guidance with the issues weighing on his mind – issues of faith and doubt, of life and death, of loss and love. Gretchen’s shift was half over before the rain outside finally lulled Brian to sleep.
By the time he woke up, the rain had stopped. The sun was shining. The house was quiet, though Brian could hear the steady sound of hammering coming from outside. He frowned and checked the time on the clock by his bed. It was just after nine. Had they started working on the wall already?
Brian got out of bed and poked his head into the hall. Gretchen’s door was closed, which meant she was still asleep. He threw on some clothes and tiptoed past her room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. There, he started a pot of coffee and helped himself to a stale breakfast bar from their stash of food. Gnawing absently on it, he left the coffee to brew and wandered outside.
The ground was damp from all the rain; it squished under his shoes as he tramped across the grass to the house next door. Howie and Gabby were out on their back porch, bent over some sort of project. Howie was hammering some boards, while Gabby sat on the steps nearby, hunched over something in her lap. “Good morning!” Brian called as he approached, not wanting to startle them. “What are y’all workin’ on?”
Gabby glanced up just briefly, then returned her attention to the greenery in her lap – palm fronds, Brian realized. She was braiding them. “It’s Day of the Dead,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m making an altar, and Howie’s making a cross. You know, to honor my mom.”
“Oh.” Brian didn’t know much about Day of the Dead, except that it was a Mexican holiday to honor the deceased, similar to the Catholic All Souls’ Day. As a Baptist, Brian had never celebrated either, but it was refreshing to see the two of them so interested in something. “That’s a real nice idea.”
He watched Howie pound nails into a pair of two-by-fours, fashioning them into a simple cross, and marveled over how far he had come since they’d first met. The old Howard never would have rolled up his shirtsleeves and dug into a hands-on project like this, especially one that required manual labor.
And Gabby… She had been so distant and withdrawn lately that it was a relief to find her doing something creative. Like everyone, Brian been concerned about her, but in the last week, she had started to come around. Gretchen had invited her to move into their house, but Gabby had refused, insisting she would rather stay with AJ. She had never seemed particularly close to him before, at least not when Brian and Gretchen had left for Atlanta, but all of a sudden, she hung around him constantly. Brian supposed it was a good thing for AJ to have some company while his leg healed, but he worried a little about the effect the former addict would have on the grieving young girl. AJ was harmless, but he still cursed like a sailor and had an awfully warped view of the world. Poor Gabby was already jaded enough, without his influence. But at least she was talking to someone. She sure didn’t say much to Gretchen or him these days.
“Can I do anything to help?” he asked, wanting to show his support.
“You can make a second cross,” Howie suggested. “I thought Kayleigh should have one, too.”
“That’s a great idea,” Brian agreed, the wheels in his head starting to spin. “You know, if it’s okay with y’all, I’d like to make a few more, for my wife and daughters. Maybe we could make them for all our loved ones and start a little memorial garden.” He and Gretchen had been talking about planting a vegetable garden, but why not a flower garden, too? He could picture it already: a small cemetery, with colorful flowers growing among the rows of crosses honoring their families and friends.
Howie nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “I like that. I’ll make one for my son. Maybe my ex-wife, too.”
“I’m sure Gretchen will want one for Shawn. And…” He trailed off without saying it, but in his head, he finished, if Kevin, Nick, and Riley don’t come back, we can make crosses for them, too.
“And my dad,” Gabby added, jumping in where he’d left off.
“Of course,” Brian said. “I’ll get started.”
He squatted down next to Howie, retrieving a second hammer from the large toolbox Howie had brought out and setting the box of nails between them. Then he pulled two more boards toward him and assembled a cross identical to the one Howie had made. For almost an hour, they pounded away, until they had laid twelve crosses out on the lawn. By then, Gabby had formed her braided palms into an arch. “For the top of the altar,” she said, nodding at it in grim-faced satisfaction. “It’s supposed to have flowers on it, though. Marigolds. We got any of those around here?”
Brian thought over the landscaping he’d seen around the base. Most of it had wilted away in the hot summer; with the undead as their main priority, they hadn’t been able to keep up with its maintenance. “I don’t think so,” he told Gabby regretfully.
“I can show you how to make them out of tissue paper,” said a new voice. Brian turned, smiling, to see Gretchen striding across the lawn. “What’s all this?” she asked, smiling back as she looked over their handiwork. When Gabby explained, she nodded knowingly. “I’ve done Day of the Dead with my students before. I’m a pro at paper marigolds. Let’s walk up to the Arts and Crafts Center and see if they have orange and yellow tissue. And yarn; we’ll need yarn. Whaddya say?”
Brian had seen Gabby reject Gretchen’s attempts at being motherly – or teacherly – before and braced himself for her reaction, but he was surprised when Gabby just nodded and replied, “Okay.” She set her arch aside and stood up, brushing off the seat of her pants.
Gretchen turned to Brian and smiled. “We’ll be back,” she said simply, and off she and Gabby went. Brian was impressed with how well she had handled that and found himself thinking again of what a good mother she would make.
With the girls gone, he and Howie decided to carve the names into the crosses, rather than paint them. “They’ll last longer that way,” Brian claimed. They would also take a lot longer, but that was okay. The hard work would make them more meaningful, worthier of their namesakes. He found a pair of knives suitable for the job, and he and Howie set to work carving. When AJ got up, he joined them, using his artistic touch to add little flourishes and flowery designs around the crudely carved names.
Gretchen and Gabby were gone a long time. Just when Brian was starting to worry that more zombies had found their way onto the base, they turned up, their arms laden with bags. “How many arts and crafts projects are you planning on doing?” joked Brian, eyeing the bulging bags.
“We’re going to be baking, too,” Gabby announced, showing him the contents of one of the bags. It contained baking ingredients – sugar, butter, evaporated milk, egg substitute, and things like that. “We’re making pan de muerto – bread of the dead.”
“Attempting to, anyway,” Gretchen added with a shrug. “I have no idea how it will turn out, with no fresh ingredients, but we’ll try and see.”
They went into the house to start baking the bread. Once they were inside, Howie said, “It’s nice to see Gabby in a good mood for once.”
AJ nodded. “She was in a pretty dark place last week,” he said, cryptically. “I’m glad she’s coming out of it.”
Brian agreed.
They continued carving while the girls worked in the kitchen. Once the bread was baking, Gretchen and Gabby joined them on the porch again, where Gretchen gave everyone a lesson on making tissue paper flowers. Before long, they had turned pieces of sunny-colored tissue into big, blooming marigolds, which they tied to Gabby’s palm arch with yarn. “It looks good,” Gabby said proudly, smiling for the first time in days.
She brought the arch into the house, and they watched her set it up on a small table, which she decorated with candles and some of her mother’s things. “This is the only picture I have of her here,” she murmured, clipping her mother’s hospital photo ID to the bottom of the arch, so that it hung in the center of the makeshift altar. Brian saw the tears in her dark eyes, so like Jo’s, and swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat.
“I know your mom would appreciate this,” he told Gabby.
She nodded. “We made an altar like this last year, for my dad,” she explained. “He was Mexican-American. It was tradition on his side of the family.”
“It’s a nice tradition,” Gretchen said.
And it was. Even though there was no good picture of Jo, even though the marigolds weren’t real, and even though the bread of the dead turned out to be a dense and doughy mess, it was a valiant effort, and it seemed to cheer Gabby up immensely.
That evening, with just an hour or so of daylight left, they carried the crosses to a large, grassy area near the chapel, which they had decided would be the perfect place to put their memorial garden, not only because of the spiritual connotation of the chapel, but because it was where they had spent so much time together in those first few weeks on the base. They dug holes in the ground to anchor the crosses in three neat rows of four. Jo’s cross was placed next to one for Luis, and included beside them were crosses for Gabby’s best friend, Makayla, and a boy named Colton whom she must have cared about. Kayleigh’s was put in a place of honor next to the cross that said, simply, Spunky. Next to it were two crosses Howie had carved with the names Bartholomew Dorough and Breanna Collins-Dorough. Gretchen planted Shawn’s cross at the end of the last row, where the wooden monuments for Brian’s family stood three across – Brooke Lynn, Bonnie Leigh, and Leighanne Reena Littrell.
After all the crosses were in place, they stood together, heads bowed in silent prayer for the loved ones they were remembering. Brian glanced up once and saw his wife’s name next to Gretchen’s husband’s. He looked from Shawn’s name to the grieving widow he had left behind. Gretchen was staring down at the grass, but he could see the teardrops clinging to her lashes. One of them had slid down her cheek and hung from her chin. He watched it fall to the ground and knew he had been right to hold back the night before. They both needed more time, time to grieve and time to heal. But one day, he thought, his eyes shifting back to the pair of crosses, they might be ready to move forward, together.
Having never met him, Brian couldn’t speak for Shawn Elliott, but he knew in his heart that Leighanne would want that for him. She would want him to move on, to be happy in this otherwise hellish new world. Brian wasn’t sure he could ever be truly happy without his family, but if there was anyone left on earth who could help fill the hole in his heart, he had a feeling it was the woman standing beside him.
Without a word, he reached out and offered her his hand. Gretchen took it, gave it a gentle squeeze, and together, they grieved, side by side and hand in hand.
