Golden Hour

Content Warning: This story contains a character who is mentally processing the death of a loved one.

The door creaked open slowly, then suddenly she slammed it shut. How could she go back, now that he was gone?

It had been 3 months since she heard his voice, held his hand, or saw Charlie’s soul through peering into his eyes. The days passed like water dripping out of a leaky faucet, drop by drop. Each second felt like an eternity. Somehow it still didn’t feel like it had been long enough. The room had been dark since the night the ambulance came and lit up the walls with patriotic glimmers and haunting echoes of screaming sirens. They had no idea that he had an undiagnosed rare disease that she had never heard of. But she didn’t need to know the name of it to now respect its horrible, life-stealing power.

Nat had been to therapy, and she probably should keep going. She remembered the funeral, though each time she revisited it there was a haziness to it as if she was watching the event unfold through someone else’s eyes. She could see her chipped nail polish in what seemed like the bottom of a screen and noticed his mom crying in her peripheral vision. But it all felt so off. She stood up as Pastor Mike prayed for her and embraced the hugs as people apologized for the loss of her husband. Yet, she could barely believe she had been at the funeral at all.

On this particular Sunday night at the end of August, she had just returned from her evening walk with Ralph, the happiest dog on earth. The dog that Charlie picked out because whenever he wagged his little puppy tail, his whole body swayed as if he was sitting on a boogie board in the ocean when a speedboat rushed by. She was so grateful she had Ralph. At first, she couldn’t look at him. But he didn’t understand why. He would creep into every room she was in and nestle his little head on her lap and sweetly peer at her with his chocolate milk eyes. When she cried, he would snuggle close. Ralph needed her, like every few hours. To take him outside, feed him, play with him, and go for walks. She didn’t know it but she needed him too. This precious dog helped her keep going when a step felt impossible. Thank God for man’s best friend.

As she let Ralph off of his leash and filled up his water bowl, the yellow card caught her eye. Her eyes were so locked onto the card that the bowl began to overflow with rushing water that swam down the drain of the kitchen sink. The frigid splash snapped her back into the moment. She placed the bowl on Ralph’s red silicone mat and dried her hands. Nat gently picked up the yellow card and took a seat at the kitchen table. She read the words for the third time since she received the card. She knew what it said, there was a reason she left it out on the counter. She knew what she had to do, but until now, and to be honest even now she wasn’t sure if she was ready.

The card read:

Dear Aunt Nat,

I’m very sorry for your loss. I really miss Uncle Charlie. My mom said it might help me feel better if I think about my favorite memories with him. I wish I could thank him for playing legos with me. We used to build the coolest stuff. I still have the Batmobile on my shelf. He always played outside with me, every time I asked. He taught me how to climb trees. That one day at Grandma Macy’s House when I was nervous, he climbed with me and told me I could do it. I felt like I was on top of the world that day. We were up so high, and I got to do that with my favorite uncle. You came outside and said we looked like kings! I think you took a picture of it on your polaroid. That is my favorite memory. I love you Aunt Nat!

Love,

Sammy

What started out as a project to help Sammy improve his handwriting had become one of Nat’s favorite traditions. Her and her now 10 year old nephew were pen pals. It was a treat to be a part of his life five states over. Once a month she would get a letter from him and hastily she would draft one to send back. Except this time, this letter had not been replied to in 2 months. Every time she even thought about responding it all just felt like too much. She was scared to remember. She didn’t want to. But today somehow felt a little different. As she finished reading, her eyes became glassy and her lip began to shiver as the sides of her mouth curled up. Sammy remembered Charlie a lot like she did: kind, warm, brave, and present. As hard as it was for her to lose her best friend, it must also be hard for Sammy to lose someone that also felt like his. She thought to herself that the least she could do would be to find that picture and send it to Sammy. This was not the first time that thought crossed her mind. But it was the first time, she felt courageous enough to actually look for the photo. Nat was pretty sure she knew where it was: in Charlie’s office. She recalled that at one point he used it as a bookmark while he was reading.

So, as she dabbed her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater, she stood up and walked toward that door. The hallway seemed darker than usual, and it felt chillier than she remembered. Still, she took a deep breath and slowly turned the doorknob. As she pushed the door open, she glanced into the room. Charlie’s favorite sweatshirt lying on his chair stopped her in her tracks. Her heart began to beat faster, and she slammed the door shut.

She shot up a prayer like a flare in the dark. I think I’m ready, God help me. Nat and her therapist had talked about remembering. The fears that came up as she debated diving back in and letting her mind return to the sweetness of the past. She had friends who loved her who could stop by in 5 minutes if she felt overwhelmed. In therapy, Nat learned coping skills. She also pondered the question: what is the worst that could happen if she let herself remember? So, she counted to four as she slowly breathed in through her nose, then to 7 as she held her breath, and for 8 counts she exhaled through her mouth. The fear was not gone, but it was now sitting on the sidelines.

She pushed her flyaways behind her ears and tightened her ponytail. Once again Nat twisted the door handle. Strangely as she opened the door, light from the window slowly illuminated her face. The west-facing window across from the door was the perfect spot to watch the sunset. No wonder Charlie always loved reading in there. She took one step into the room and then another. She tiptoed toward the bookshelf and pulled out his and her favorite book, Gilead. As she grabbed it, she noticed the back cover felt fuller than her copy. She turned to the back of the book and out fell 4 photos.

Nat bent down to pick up the photos, but instead she decided to sit on the carpet. Although she had seen Charlie use a polaroid picture as a bookmark before, she had just assumed he was using the picture of him and Sammy. Puzzled, she began to flip over the polaroid pictures. The one on top was a smiling little boy sitting with his uncle in the nook of a beautiful tree. Both of them were grinning ear-to-ear. Next, she saw a polaroid with a shaggy puppy beaming as he took a giant shake during his first bath. In the corner of the picture, there Nat was mid-laugh as she tried to shield herself from being drenched. She remembered looking over to the warmest face and seeing Charlie crouched down with one eye closed to get a picture.

Next, she saw a picture of Charlie’s parents staring into each other’s eyes as they danced in the kitchen on their 35th wedding anniversary. And the last picture she could barely see because her eyes were full of tears. It was a polaroid of Charlie kissing Nat on the cheek as she held up her left hand to show a glistening little stone. A polaroid taken on a bench in the Maple Street Park after he had asked Nat, her favorite question: “Will you marry me?” It was an easy yes, that was quickly followed by some trepidation.

This time as she remembered it felt so real, like she was back in the park. Sitting on the wooden bench, in the middle, careful not to let her hand touch the crusted bird poop on the side. She could hear the whoosh of the leaves as the breeze whizzed through the trees and smell the wildflowers that bordered the walking path. She saw Charlie on one knee, doing his best to steady his shaking hands. Then he said, “Natalie, I love knowing you. Hearing about your day makes mine better every single time. When I look at you, I see a daughter of a heavenly father who deserves to be treated with all the dignity, love, and respect in the world. So, if you’ll let me, I want to love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

He was the type of man she prayed for. Someone who was safe, selfless, and not to mention easy on the eyes. Still, they had to talk about how they would really do this “whole marriage thing.” She was still in school, and he was working his butt off to make money. But, she had seen his character and she trusted him. As they talked, they both recounted how God brought them together. Slowly, very slowly, her fears started to become quieter. They didn’t disappear, but for some reason she just felt a peace that she couldn’t explain: this was meant to be. Nat thought to herself that there is no one in the world she would rather call her husband.

The proposal was five sweet years ago. Five years full of faithfulness, ups and downs, fights and makeups, and, hopes and devastations that were all weathered together. As Nat sat criss-cross applesauce in Charlie’s office that Sunday evening during golden hour, she thanked God for her golden-haired man. She couldn’t explain it and didn’t know how it would all turn out, but she had that same feeling that it would all be alright. That same peace and the same awareness that God would help her through it.