Chapter Text
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone.
-Rodgers and Hammerstein, Carousel
Sylvia made sure to visit Hans’ gave on his birthday. By that point, it had been five months since his death. She was struggling through a winter that never seemed to end.
“Happy birthday, Hans.” She choked out, blinking back tears. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
He would have been eighty-six today. Closer to ninety than not. Still, Sylvia would gladly accept the time they were given. As Hans had repeatedly pointed out, many people didn’t even make it to eighty-five. And most of them were much worse off than him. She smiled shakily as she remembered.
Hans had understood the quality, the value of life. Not everyone did. If he couldn’t enjoy life, couldn’t truly participate in it, there was no point in going on. From the moment they got the diagnosis, Hans knew his time was up. No chemotherapy, no radiation. He would accept his fate and die at home. He was ready. But he was also keenly aware of how much pain his death would cause her.
Today was a sunny day, with a blue watercolor sky. No snow on the ground yet. But it was still cold and chilly, and the winter wind seemed to pierce through her clothes.
“You know, I baked a cake today. I had to do something.” Sylvia told him. “But I’ll never be able to eat the whole thing. I’ll have to give the rest to friends, neighbors…Whoever’s interested.”
She continued with her ritual of talking to him. Any passersby would have thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care. It gave her comfort. Damn what anyone else thought.
“I can’t believe you celebrated your birthday last year and everything was fine. We were so happy then. We had no idea what was going to happen…” Sylvia shook her head, exhaled shakily. Trying to stay composed. “Happy birthday, Hans, wherever you are. I hope, if there’s something after this, you’re eating all the strudel you want. Because you deserve it. It’s your day.” She allowed herself to smile at the image. “I can’t stop thinking about spring. It seems so far away, though. Sometimes I feel like it’ll never come.”
Sylvia sat down on the grass in front of his grave. It was dry and brittle, but she didn’t care. She felt closer to Hans, sitting here and talking to him like this.
“It’s hard. It’s so hard. I know you tried to prepare me, but…You can’t really prepare for this. The whole time, you were only thinking about me. Am I coping? Will I be okay? How can I keep living? Most people can only think about themselves, especially when they’re dying, for fuck’s sake. God, if someone told me that thirty-six years ago, I would have thought they were fucking crazy. My first impression of you, liebling, was that you were a narcissistic self-absorbed prick. But you know what? You saved my life when you should have killed me. You had every reason to hate me, but you didn’t. You saved me then, and I think you saved me now.” Sylvia’s voice broke, and her eyes blurred with tears. She reached up to wipe them away.
“Part of me wishes you were here, that we were eating cake and having a great time together. But you’re not here. It was time for you to leave, and I kissed you and sent you on your way. I had thirty-five years with you. That’s a very long time, but sometimes it seems so short. Time flies when you’re in love, I guess. I did everything you wanted, Hans. I hope you’re proud of me. I hope you think I’m doing enough.”
Her thoughts turned to Hans’ book. It was currently being edited, and would be published in the fall. That was something she both anticipated and dreaded.
“But I think you are proud of me. I really do. I don’t know, it’s just a feeling I have. I keep thinking about when it’s going to get easier. But maybe it never will. It’s something I have to live with.” She reached out to trace the engraved letters of his name.
“Hey, at least I can be happy about one thing. It’s better than nothing, right? I’m so glad you’re free now. I’m happy that you’re all right, and you’re not in pain anymore. I was so fixated on keeping you comfortable, making sure you weren’t in pain, and you were more concerned about me!”
Sylvia stood up. She felt almost physically lightened. “I’m glad you’re all right.” She said again, in a whisper. “Now I have to learn to be all right. Somehow.”
And she would take it one day at a time until that day came. As Sylvia walked through the cemetery gates, she felt something she hadn't felt since before Hans died: hope.