About two hours later, I heard faint footsteps in the living room below me. I couldn’t move or call out to anyone. I just listened, trying to make out the sounds from the people in my house. I heard Jake holler for Addison and then Helen spoke too. The next thing I remember was shutting my eyes tight as I heard feet climbing the stairs and then towards my bedroom door.
The door creaked open after a brisk knock, letting a sliver of light cascade on the sheets and dresser. I didn’t move an inch, hoping that whoever it was would leave.
“Mom?” Addison asked. “Are you awake?”
I didn’t answer, for fear I would have to go down stairs and face my family.
As the door closed, I heard Addison yell down the stairs to Jim’s parents that I was sleeping. I was grateful that no one second guessed her and left me be. I was in no mood to explain or talk.
A few minutes after I drifted into a lousy sleep, I heard more people enter the house, clanging and causing a raucous. Immediately I felt nervous about how many people actually knew that I was a widow now and that my children would grow up without a father. The thought plagued me as I listened closely for the visitor’s voices.
Through the floorboards, I heard a familiar voice that shook me to the core. It wasn’t quit as subtle as Jim’s, but delivered the same inflection as his. The only person I knew that had the same vocal quality as Jim’s was Jim’s brother, Jonathan. I pictured the kids leaning on him for support during this time, since they were close with him and since he was most like their father.
Yet again, I didn’t move from my spot in the middle of the oversized bed. My limbs were rubber-like and had no feeling in them. It was like my body was telling them to shut down and stay still. Because I knew I couldn’t hold up, I stayed there, waiting for something to motivate me to move. Nothing I could think of motivated me. So, there I lay.
Just then, another knock rapped at my bedroom door, startling me. I didn’t answer in hopes the person would leave. The door creaked open and from the corner of my eye I could see Jonathan’s head poke in. He whispered my name, and I suddenly felt that rock in my stomach start to crumble. His voice made me feel Jim all over again.
When he stepped into the room, I sucked my emotion up; not wanting to seem like a blubbering lunatic in front of my brother-in-law. He came closer, leaned over my bed and looked down at me. I kept my eyes shut, hoping to fend off any questions he might have.
“Pam, I know you’re awake,” he said in a soft tone.
I didn’t answer back.
“Everyone’s concerned. Please come down and assure everyone that you’re okay,” he pleaded. When I didn’t move or speak, he sighed and trudged back to the door, opened it slowly, looked back once and shut it. I sighed too, knowing I was clear for another few minutes.
The truth was that I wasn’t okay. I was far from it.
Hours later, I was still in the same spot I was in when I hit the bed. I didn’t even have the motivation to roll over or wipe the hair out of my eyes. It was almost like I was on my own deathbed, of sorts.
The thing about lying in my bed was the fact that I didn’t have to confront people or feelings I wasn’t ready to confront yet. It was my own fortress of solitude, comforting me and allowing me to just be.
As the night grew darker, I heard more and more people enter my house, talking loudly, giving comforting words, sharing stories of the past, and I heard some tears also. Then, I heard it; laughter.
And, it irritated me. I wasn’t just irritated, I was fuming mad.
Who had the right to laugh on the day my husband died? No one, that’s who. I clenched my fists tight, feeling a surge of rage and anger pass through my veins. At that point, I felt the lack of motivation leave my body. I began to sit up in the bed but as I did, I caught a glimpse of a pair of Jim’s sneakers lying on the floor by the bathroom door. I stopped immediately and fell back onto the bed.
It was then that I realized that this was going to be hard to get used to.
