Feel It Now
If you want it, come and get it
Crying out loud.
The love that I was giving you was
Never in doubt.
Let go your heart, let go your head
And feel it now.
Babylon, Babylon.
---
I watch the pained look on his face, wishing there was something I could say that would make it all okay. But as hard as I try, there don't seem to be the right words. What do you say to someone who lost their child? 'I'm so sorry about your baby. Did you see Friends last night?' Or maybe that is the way to go, just carry on with life as normal. I honestly don't know what's best. I wish I didn't have to be in this situation, but I have to be there for him. He's my best friend.
I suddenly realise he's waiting for me to respond in some way to what he just said. What do I say to that? 'I'm sorry' feels so inadequate. And it feels false, somehow, to keep on telling him that he'll get through it. Especially when he revealed to me that getting through it is what scares him, in a way. I feel absolutely terrible that I don't know what to say, that I can't be the friend he needs me to be. After everything we've been through, surely we must have something to say to each other.
"You're going to be okay," I finally say. The closeness of that comment to that event of two years ago doesn't miss me. And when he looks up at me I can tell he didn't miss it either. "Things look pretty crappy right now." I decide for the 'say what you mean' technique. "But things will get less crappy. That won't make what has happened less crappy, you just won't feel as crappy about it. And some days will be crappier than others, but you'll get through them and come out the other side knowing that, no matter what crap goes on, you still love your son, forever." I pause as I notice he is laughing at me. My words of wisdom seem to have been completely different to how I intended them. Thinking back over what I just said I start to laugh as well. Did I really say that? "Do you get the feeling I'm talking a load of crap?"
"Yeah!" He continues to laugh, and that makes me smile. For a moment he looks happy. And it's good to see. Good to know that it's there, under all the grief and emptiness.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that. It was meant to be comforting, would you believe it."
"Hard to believe," he laughs, and we both continue to giggle, despite what we have just been talking about, and what he has been pouring his heart out over. "Thank you."
"It's okay. It was just pure chance that it was that amusing!"
"No, I mean thank you for being here. For being such an amazing friend, and for not ditching me when I'm having a really bad time, even though really I deserve to be ditched."
"No one deserves to be ditched by their friends. I wouldn't do that to you."
"Yeah, but there's a difference between being a friend, and coming to my house and hearing me pour my heart out about all my problems when...well, when they probably hurt you in the first place. Thank you for that." I don't know what to say to that, and so I just nod, feeling tears glisten in my eyes. He's right, he hurt me. A lot. When he came back with Kem, and I discovered they were going to have a baby I thought my life was over. But I realised how far I'd come with my life while he was away, and I knew I couldn't forget all that. So I fought through, stayed positive. And came out the other end as a sober doctor. And now I know that what I felt when I found out about Kem and the baby was nothing compared with what he's going through.
"I don't deserve you," he suddenly says, and I'm taken aback by the comment. Once again, I don't know what to say. He's really astounding me today. "I'm such a jerk."
"No you're not, don't say that. You're grieving. You haven't done anything that makes you a jerk."
"I'm not talking about now. I mean..." I nod, showing him I know what he's talking about. Yeah, he was a jerk. But he doesn't need to hear that right now, he needs to know that I'm his friend no matter what. "I'm sorry."
"I know." He gives me a sad smile.
"I missed you, Abby."
"I know." I realise my hand is still over his, and I give it another gentle squeeze. "Me too."
"We're going to be okay, yeah?"
"Of course." He's looking at me in a way I didn't see in a while. There's a yearning in his eyes. And I know I should think that he's on the rebound from Kem, and is just looking for comfort. But I know he truly means it. "We'll always be best friends, right?"
"Yeah." He nods, convinced. "And maybe more."
"Let's just wait on that one." I smile warmly at him, letting him know that maybe one day we can have what we both want. Just not today. Not while he's still grieving. Once he's come to terms with his loss, that will be our time. And I know it's my job to help him do that. To bring him to a place where we're both ready.
"Yeah." He understands, I can tell. And it's a comfort to me that we still know each other so well. "They gave me a lock of his hair," he says suddenly, going back to our previous subject. I'm not surprised, and I don't mind. I know that his son is on his mind the whole time. What sort of a father would he be if that weren't the case? "It's so dark and soft."
"Baby hair is beautiful."
"Yeah." He takes a moment, as if he is pondering something, before speaking up again. "Do you want to see it?"
"His hair?" He nods. "Only if you want to share that with me."
"Yeah, I do. It...it would mean a lot to me if you'd be willing to."
"Of course." He smiles sadly, and gets up from the table, presumably to fetch the lock of hair that is his last physical connection to his son. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, realising what a huge thing it is for him to want to share with me. This was his son, he would be perfectly entitled to keep it to himself as a private memory between him and his son. But he wants to share it with me. As I wait for him to return I close my eyes, and let my mind wander.
I watch my son playing in the grass of our backyard. He laughs loudly, throwing a cheeky grin in his father's direction as he runs towards the sandpit. In his haste he loses his footing, falling flat on the muddy ground. He screws his face up, and I know it's only moments until the loud cries begin. Quickly I scoop him up into my arms, holding him tightly to me. He buries his head in my chest, whimpering slightly. As I hold him I rub his back soothingly, trying to quiet the cries, and place a soft kiss on the top of his head. I look up at his father and grin. This is what we imagined. And I'm truly happy. As the small cries subside, I whisper gently in his ear. "Why don't you go and give Daddy a hug and tell him how much you love him?" When I set him down on the ground he looks up at me, as if to check with me that it really is okay. I nod, and watch him run off across the lawn. I point to the muddy streaks down my white shirt and laugh as I see the realisation on his face that he's going to get just as dirty from our son's muddy dungarees. He grins at me, and I know that I will never love anyone this much. I watch as my son runs into his father's arms, and they wrap each other up in a huge hug. After a moment he looks up at his father and grins, before saying something, and I know he's relaying the message of love that I told him to give. Carter looks over at me and his smile broadens. He mouths "I love you" to me, and I grin back at him, before making my way across the garden to my two boys. Carter wraps an arm around me and pulls me into a three-way hug, giving me a quick but loving kiss. "I love you too," I tell him, smiling. "Love Mummy. Love Daddy," our son announces, and if at all possible both of our smiles grow even bigger. I love you too, sweetie, I love both of you so much.
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