July 22, 2020
Daryl Dixon had known this was going to be a bad week; just as it had been a bad week for the past eighteen years. This week was the time where he and his wife Carol would be alone with their thoughts, with only each other for comfort. The couple rarely drank, but every year this week was an exception to that rule. The several bottles of wine currently stashed in the back of his pickup would provide the familiar coping mechanism that they were forced to continue year after year.
They had sent their children away for seven days to sleep away camp at the lake as they always did over this week. Daryl and Carol always took this week off of work as well. They never left their home, using a week's worth of vacation time so they could be alone. The time away was an allotted time of deep grief for the Dixons. It was a time of reflection on loss, and it was not a time that Mika and Luke should witness.
As he drove towards their home, his reflections of their lives together played out like a slideshow in his mind. All the memories of them together that spanned most of their time on earth.
By the age of thirty-six, Daryl and Carol Dixon had spent thirty years together. Best friends since the age of six, they had always been there for one another. The extreme poverty of their tiny Georgia mountain community had prepped them to survive most of what life threw at them. Their existence was not marked by wealth, possessions, or love from their blood families. Instead, they had grown up knowing that they could depend only on each other. Everybody else just brought disappointment.
Both Carol and Daryl had grown up as children of alcoholics. Daryl's parents were also drug addicts. His brother had followed his parents into addiction. None of their family was present in their lives today. There was never any happy holiday get togethers … no family reunions … no phone calls to catch up on life …. there was nothing. The one thing that Carol's family had done in attempt to 'better' their daughter was to advise her to marry somebody who had money. Their point was that would give her (and hopefully them by extension) an easier life. She could have followed their advice. She could have chosen to marry a man who would be able to provide her with some luxury in life. But instead, she had fallen in love with him.
Daryl acknowledged his lot in life early. He never pretended to be fit for anything other than what he already was. And who was he besides being a poor, white trash redneck? He knew his educational and economic prospects in life were nothing great. He was born a hard worker though and was always ready to do anything to provide a living wage.
Daryl's lack of money and future education plans had not stopped Carol from always loving him back just as much as he had always loved her. So, at eighteen, they bought secondhand rings and got married on the courthouse steps. Shortly after, they left their families and their little town behind for good.
Other than Daryl, the only things Carol had ever wanted in life were children and an education. She wanted to teach. Financial aid alone would not cover the cost of school and living. She refused to consider the burden that taking on student loans would entail. Instead, they both began work in a factory close by their new apartment in Atlanta, saving up money as best they could, planning to enroll Carol part time in college in a year or two. They were in that tiny apartment for only two months before their lives were changed forever with a pink line on a pregnancy test. They were having a baby.
The idea of parenthood had not scared the newlyweds. They were making decent money at the factory and knew they could provide for the child. They were deeply in love and could do anything as long as they were together. Their plans for Carol's education were not abandoned, only delayed until their child would be entering preschool. The young couple were doing well for themselves in life and continued to work hard to ensure that their child would be well provided for. They were excited to meet the little life growing inside Carol. Everything they did was for their little family.
Daryl parked his truck and sat a moment just staring at their modest house that was filled with so much love and happy memories. It had been their first house and had always been a happy home. Well, it was a happy home for all but one week a year. He climbed out of the cab and began gathering up the items in the back. Besides the wine there was a couple bags of food, a bouquet of flowers, and Carol's coveted weekly copy of People Magazine. The flowers and wine were an important part of their yearly sad tradition. They had both tried and failed over several years to not engage in the ritual of grief; but found themselves overpowered by an almost physical need to just feel it.
It wasn't that their grief centered around an entire week's worth of events. Logically, they knew it was the anniversary of a single day that held their pain, but the strength of the emotions seemed to dictate a seven-day purge of feels. Mika and Luke knew why their parents grieved, but for them it was more abstract. They could appreciate at least a bit at their young ages what their parents were going through, but having never experienced the trauma for themselves, it left them uncomfortable and unsure how to respond. The adults had seen several therapists and had begun compartmentalizing their grief for the benefit of their children. Eight years ago, a discussion with their grief counselor had resulted in the establishment of the yearly week-long 'break' from things. This private time away from normal family life was better, healthier for them all. It allowed the kids to have some time away while the parents were able to reserve manifestation of their deepest grief more openly during this specific time.
As Daryl entered the kitchen area, he was listening intently for signs of where Carol was in the home. He couldn't hear her anywhere, so he left the flowers, food, wine and magazine on the island. Going down the hall, he finally detected her quiet sniffles. He found her in their bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, looking through the pink album that was heartbreakingly bereft of content. She was tracing the lines of the little baby footprints and stroking the silky strands of a few baby hairs adhered to the page. He should have gotten home faster. He should have been here before she took it out. The look of heartbreak on her face was just a sharp as every other time they had done this. She was crying and couldn't seem to get any words out of her mouth. He sat down beside her and enveloped her in his strong arms. She always said his hugs could heal her heart. Right now, he wished he could do more, but was powerless. They just sat together, holding one another, and riding out the waves of pain.
After a while Carol seemed to find her voice. She looked down one more time at the little footprints of the girl they never got to know. She traced the lines one more time before closing the book with her whispered words.
"Happy birthday baby. Happy birthday Sophia. Mommy and daddy miss you. We love you. Always and forever."
