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“I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.”
- C.S. Lewis
Carlos checks the mailbox before walking into their apartment. Inside, a grey envelope with no return address is sitting there. His name written in red ink, looking formal and final. He has an idea as to what it could be in relation to, but he’d rather not face that reality just yet.
When he opens the front door, he greets TK who greets him back with a “Hi baby” that sounds more comforting than ever before. They toss stories of their day back and forth, and pretend everything is normal, just for a moment. Eventually, Carlos pulls out the dreaded grey envelope and opens it.
Inside is a simple, yet harrowing card. Simple because there’s no intricate design, no fancy calligraphy, and no stock cartoon character meant to lessen the blow. It’s harrowing because it can’t help but push the reality that much further. On the card, in solemn black letters are the words, “Sorry for your loss”.
Carlos chuckles softly to himself; it’a sound filled with void and discomfort. He doesn’t think loss can begin to describe how he’s feeling; to describe that black pit that’s growing deeper and deeper. Last night all he wanted to do was drown in it.
That’s the thing about grief; it’ll crawl down your throat and make itself at home. It’ll find a way to rob you of words you never thought you knew. It’ll find a way to to cut open a part of you that you never knew was there. It’ll find a way to keep the blood flowing, no matter how much you try to stop the bleed.
Carlos rips the card in half and throws the remnants in the trash can. He closes the trash can lid hard. Not hard enough to startle, but hard enough for TK to notice; because he’s TK.
—
Carlos is looking at the ceiling of their bedroom, the anger simmering beneath his skin keeping him awake more than any bright light could. He measures his breath; making sure his weighted sighs don’t cause TK to arise.
It’s all in vein when Carlos feels subtle movement next to him; TK drapes an arm over Carlos’ chest, his grip firmer than before. He’s doing so to remind him that he’s there, he’s not going anywhere. Carlos thinks that’s all there is to it when he hears TK whisper, “I love you.”
Carlos knows what he actually means. Please don’t do anything stupid.
Carlos whispers back, “I love you too.”
TK knows what he actually means. I’ll try not to.
He’s still angry; but now he’s starting to wish he wasn’t as much.
—
Carlos can still feel the phantom press of the gun under his index finger. Anger manifested itself into something inside him that he should question, but he doesn’t want to.
Maybe it’s fair, he thinks to himself in a humorless way. No one wanted to question anything about his father’s murder, why should they be given the liberty to question him.
Carlos doesn’t think he can move past what happened. He doesn’t think he should be allowed to. Until Owen confirms that fear that’s been piercing at him for days.
This anger will make a feast out of him but it’ll never make him feel full.
Owen’s right; if he doesn’t choose to process this anger into it’s final stage of grief; his father’s life isn’t the only one that gunman took. He and Owen raise a glass and cheer to his father in a language they shared as bond.
He’s still angry, but maybe now, he’s a little less so. Maybe now, he’s finally allowing himself to truly be sad
—
“Are you sure?” Carlos asks his mother, looking in the reflection at her while she’s looking in the reflection at him. He turns, sighs heavily and still doesn’t want to accept the weight of what’s happened.
He’s getting married to the love of his life; even though he felt like his life stopped just a week ago. He would move the world for TK, but would give it to see his father standing right next to him again.
“For the 1000th time, Carlitos.” HIs mother’s warm hands cradle his face and he feels like he’s seven years old again. He wonders if he can fit Kique the Koala in his suit pocket. “Yes. He would have wanted to you to have it.”
Carlos looks at the ring once more; his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He’s still sad, a little less angry, but he can feel the muttering of happiness start to take root. “You think so?”
“Oh honey,” Andrea raises to her tiptoes, and Carlos lowers his head. Andrea presses a kiss to his forehead before Carlos looks back up at her. “I know so.”
—
“Now you’re sure you want to take all of those?” Andrea questions Carlos as he walks in from the garage.
“For the 1000th time, Ma.” Carlos juggles the two tote bags filled to the brim with VHS tapes. “Yes. You know TK still hasn’t seen Ferngully?”
“Oh well you’ve got to fix that.” Andrea jokes and Carlos wants to live inside her laugh. He feels like he hasn’t heard it in years. “If you make him watch all of those, you’re going to owe him a second honeymoon.”
Carlos rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t give him any ideas.” He goes to say goodbye, and leave his mother’s, his parent’s house once more when something catches his eye in the dining room.
Carlos walks over, putting the tote bags gently on the ground. He can feel that dryness in his throat start to creep back up.
“His puzzle.” Carlos mutters to himself; cocking his head slightly sideways to get a fuller look at it. He slowly starts to see that it’s a koala sitting in a tree.
“What was that, mijo?” His mother calls from the other room. He continues to stare at it, not looking up even as his mother joins him in the room.
He answers, “Dad’s puzzle.” At that, he looks up at his mother. “He was working on it when I came over to ask him to be my best man.” Carlos smiles slightly at the memory; but the smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes.
“Ah, yes.” Andrea quietly affirms before joining Carlos in front of the puzzle. “I’ve been meaning to put it away, but it’s just,” His mother’s voice trails off, but Carlos understands what she’s trying to say. Cleaning it up would mean embracing the harsh reality of what’s happened.
Carlos reaches for one of the pieces that never found itself placed. He maneuvers it around in his hand before his eyes capture onto the ring on his hand. His father’s ring. Carlos processes a thought that hurts as much as it heals.
“Do you think we should finish it for him?”
Andrea gasps just slightly; and then releases a sigh as she releases heavy weight, just slightly. Her following smile is watery, but true. “I think he would have loved that.” Andrea raises a hand and wipes away a tear that’s yet to fall. “I’ll make us some green tea.”
Carlos smiles to his mother; and more importantly to himself. He picks up a piece and places it next to another, connecting the two like glue.
Maybe this is the way his broken heart can slowly find it’s way to becoming whole, yet again.