How Do I Live
There wasn't a morning that she woke up that she didn't wish he wasn't right beside her. There wasn't a day that she came home from work expecting him to be there to greet her. And there wasn't a night that she laid down in bed, hoping she could still feel him next to her.
It had been hard. Very hard the first few months. And five years later, the sting was still there.
Jake was nineteen and in college, leaving Reba and five-year-old Esme alone in that big, old house.
Esme loved to make tents out of old blankets, and one February evening, mother and daughter made a tent in the living room and had a camp-out. Reba had dug out a box of pictures from the attic and with flashlights in hand, the two went through them one by one.
Esme was very smart and was the spitting image of Brock. Blonde curls hung at her lightly tanned shoulders and her big, blue eyes would make you want to do anything for her. Her sideways grin mimicked Brock's and Reba knew he would have gotten a kick out of watching her become so much like him.
Reba watched her as she looked at the pictures. She sat like Brock did- Indian-style and hunched over just a bit. She said things he would have said, did things he would have done.
"Mommy," Esme said, holding up a picture, her tiny hand gripping the big orange flashlight. "This is Daddy."
Reba looked closer. Sure enough, it was a much younger Brock on his first day of dental school. Reba had insisted he wear his backpack and stand by the front door so she could take his picture.
"That is Daddy," Reba told her. "On his first day of school."
Esme laughed. "Daddy's too old to go to school."
Reba laughed along with her. "It's not like your school, it's like Jake's school. It's called college."
"College," She repeated, balancing the photo on her knee. "Jake lives at college."
"Yep. He lives in a dorm."
"I wanna live at school with Jake." She flicked her flashlight off and on.
"You really miss Jake, don't you?"
"Yeah." She picked up another picture. "You and Daddy." She laughed. "You have big hair."
Reba reached for the picture. It was of her and Brock at their first wedding. They were smashing the wedding cake in each other's faces and some genius named Lori Ann decided to snap a photo.
"This was at mine and Daddy's wedding," Reba explained. "Back in the eighties."
"Where was I?"
"You weren't born yet. But..." She reached for another picture. "You're in this one."
Esme took the picture and studied it. "Am I hiding?"
Reba chuckled. "No. You're in my tummy." She pointed to her belly. "You were just hanging out in there." The picture showed her and Brock in front of their hotel in Boston. Reba was five months along with Esme and glowing.
"How'd I get in there?" Esme asked.
"Well, me and your Daddy wanted you so bad that one night, we decided to put you there. Just us. And nine months later, you were born and here you are."
Esme grabbed the picture and put it with her stack on top of the picture of Brock's first day of school and the one of the wedding. She dug around in the box some more and pulled out a picture of two left hands.
"Mommy, what's this?"
Reba glanced at the picture. "Oh, that's mine and Daddy's wedding day again. We took a picture of our rings." She smiled. "It was Daddy's idea."
"I wanna see them!" Esme announced and placed the picture in her pile.
Reba held out her left hand where her glittering diamond ring still laid. Esme grabbed her mother's hand with her own, touching the diamond gently with a look up. "Where's Daddy's?"
Reba grabbed the chain that rested around her neck and held up the end that held Brock's wedding band.
Esme touched the silver with her delicate fingers. She had her nails painted pink, the result of a spa day with Cheyenne and Elizabeth.
"Can I wear it?" Esme asked.
Reba took the chain off and placed it around Esme's neck. It hung down almost to her belly. She inspected it further before going back to the pictures.
"Look," She said, holding up another photo. "Daddy and a little baby."
Reba nodded. "That little baby is you."
Esme's eyes widened and she looked down at the picture of Brock in the hospital room. His hair was disheveled and his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. He looked tired, but he wore the biggest smile as he held up a tiny pink bundle- baby Esme.
"I was little," Esme observed, placing the picture in her pile.
"Yes, you were," Reba agreed, watching Esme crawl out of her sleeping bag. It was evident that she was getting bored with looking at pictures. She was also getting tired. Her frequent yawns told no lies.
"Mommy, can I have these?" She held up her stack of five pictures she had handpicked.
"What do you want them for?"
Esme stood, her head touching the top of the tent. "Come on." She headed out, so Reba crawled out after her.
Esme ran up to her room which was Van and Cheyenne's old room and opened her door. It was a five-year-old girl's dream room. She had pale pink walls and a canopy bed with beautiful hardwood floors. Lace curtains hung in the windows which hid the Beanie Babies that were lined up on the sill, all pink. She had a pink rug that had to be vacuumed every Friday and her bed had to be made just so each morning. But one of her most pried possessions lay atop her princess pillow. It was a black and white kitten Esme named Minnie Pearl. She absolutely loved that cat.
But Esme paid no attention to the purring feline as she went to her window, pulling back the curtain and setting the photos against the Beanie Babies.
"I want to look at them everyday," She explained.
Reba nodded. "Okay. You can keep them up there, but don't let Minnie get a hold of them."
Esme reached down to grab the kitten as it strolled by. She held it awkwardly against her chest.
"You heard Mommy," She told it. "No touching those pictures. You can look, but you can't touch." She set Minnie Pearl down on the floor and watched her run out of the room. Esme ran after her, her curls bouncing as she bounded out of the room. Reba took one more look at the pictures before shutting Esme's light off and walking downstairs.
Esme was just crawling back in the tent, holding a hissing Minnie pearl when Reba got to the bottom stair. She shook her head and followed in after her daughter. Minnie Pearl got loose and ran out, brushing against Reba's leg.
Inside, Esme was pushing the box of pictures to the side and unzipping her sleeping bag. Reba crawled over to her own and laid down without unzipping it. Esme looked over at her mother, saw what she was doing, and did the same.
Reba smiled as Esme scooted closer to her. She settled down, picking up Brock's wedding band from the end of the chain around her neck.
"Tell me about Daddy," Esme said, inspecting the ring.
Reba stared at the blankets above her and said, "He was just like you. Exactly like you."
Esme smiled. "Did he have blue eyes just like me?"
"Just like you."
"Was he nice?"
"Very nice. He would do anything for anybody. He would give you the shirt right off of his back."
Esme slipped the ring on her index finger. It was about ten sizes too big.
"Did he love me?" She asked.
"Yes, he did. He loved you more than anything. He wanted to be with you all the time."
Esme took the ring off and looked at the inside band. "What's that?" She asked, sitting up and grabbing the flashlight. "There's words there."
Reba knew what she was talking about. "Sound it out," She said. "It's easy."
Esme was learning to spell and read. She was catching on fast.
"How...do...I...live," She read.
"That's right. How Do I Live is a song me and your Daddy used to listen to."
"Sing it for me."
Reba sat up. "Okay." She began to sing. "How do I live without you? I want to know. How do I breathe without you if you ever go? How do I ever, ever survive? How do I, how do I, oh how do I live?"
Without saying anything, Esme hopped up and ran out of the tent. A minute later, she came back with her butterfly notebook. She sat down and turned a few pages. Whens he stopped, she stopped at a page with a few lines written on them with Esme's early handwriting.
"I wrote this for Daddy in school," She said. "Do you want to hear it?"
"Sure."
"Okay." She began to read. "My daddy is not here with me and my mommy. He's in Heaven fixing Adam and Eve's cavities and giving Jesus braces. Sometimes I talk to my daddy and tell him about myself 'cause he never got to know me. My mommy says he's watching over me all the time. I feel safe because he sees me from up there. I love my daddy and he loves me. Written by Esme Nohr Hart." She looked up, smiling wide. "Did you like it?"
Reba nodded as a few tears ran down her face. A smile graced her lips as she pulled Esme into a hug, thanking God for all she had lost, but even more, for all she had.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this book. It took a lifetime to write, but I'm grateful it's through.
This book is my life. It tells a story, much like the way music does.
Within these chapters, Walk The Line, Dead Flowers, Red Light, Love Can Build a Bridge, He Stopped Loving Her Today, and How Do I Live, there is a journey and I am honored to share it with you.
Thank you for reading my story.
-Reba
-The End-