Chapter Six: Acceptance
Dear Greg,
It's been half a year since that frigid unforgiving ice storm. The weather is warmer now. You would like it a lot knowing you and your tenancies to go outside and ditch work when the sun shines. Your favourite path to ride your motorcycle was recently
redone so it now allows four motorcycles to drive on it at once. I will always remember those days when you couldn't stand to be alone on your bike rides so you would pick me up from my office and whisk me away. The sun doesn't shine without you, Greg.
Work is getting better and I am leaving the office more. About every three nights or so I go out to dinner with Cuddy, or some other member of the staff, including large group dinners with your teams. They all miss you, but not as I miss you. The conversations are friendly and more often then not the food is superb, but I always try to order what I think you would want to eat. You are part of my past, my present, and my future even if you longer breathe beside me in the bed every night.
I will never love another and I decided that after the five month anniversary of your death. In my mind it's the only proper thing to do to fully honor your memory. I have my friends and I've had offers but no one will take your place in my heart.
Do not worry for me Greg, the crying is not as often as it was. I cry only when the thought of you becomes unbearable and even that is becoming less common with every week that goes by.
I have to do something now. Dr. Cheryl told me one way to fully accept a loved ones death is find something that belongs to that person and hold it as long as needed. I am going to sort through your T-shirt drawer because that is what made you my Greg. I still have all your canes in our hallway closet, taking them out every now and again; but they will not do the job. I need your essence and I just hope your shirts will help me.
I love you with every sun ray that streams into my vision,
James
I stand up from my writing desk in the corner of our room. The last visible sunset rays fall delicately onto the bed, shining with oranges, reds, and yellows. The bed is laden with colourful light and for a moment it beckons me to climb in and turn in for the night. I turn away from it; an important mission at hand.
I walk slowly and carefully to the dresser that I shared with him for five almost six years. I have the top three rows and he had the bottom three. I knew exactly where his T-shirts were because he would always use his cane to pull the handle of the fifth drawer and pick out his daily shirt. I bend down to kneel in front of the ancient oak dresser and brace myself before opening the T-shirt compartment. They were all still there…except for the one he wore the day he died. Neatly folded and arranged by colour and by year he got them.
I reach down and pull the top one off, a black Rolling Stones T-shirt he probably got in high school, and I drape it delicately in my hands. It's just as soft as I remember. It's just as warm as I remember, even if that part was just part of my imagination. I took a deep breath and lifted it to my nose hoping to catch a slight whiff of his musky cologne; but was disappointed to only pick up the smell of dust.
I fold it up again and replace it in the drawer, slightly sad that my "mission" didn't go as planned. Before I close the drawer something caught my eye at the bottom of the drawer. It wasn't T-shirt shaped or even clothes shaped. Reaching down to pick it up to examine it my hand graze a velvet square and something dry and fragile.
Now I am interested. I reach down deeper this time grasping the mysterious objects. I pull them out slowly as if frightened what they could be. My eyes instantly mist with tears. They are a rose; obviously wilted with time and a dusty ring box. I wipe my tears away and open the box carefully and I see a golden engagement ring fitted for a man and a small note scribbled in my Gregory's own hand.
Happy Six Year Anniversary! I gave it a lot of thought and I knew deep down that you would always love me. I am taking the next step and hoping you will accept this as a proposal to be my "husband" / life partner. I love you James Wilson. I love you and hope you'll take me as yours forever.
Greg
The tears fell free now; more free than they've fallen since he died. The "big surprise" he had planned the night he died…he was going to propose to me. The shock of his step towards commitment and the anguish of never being able to accept it made me sob like a baby. My tears soaked the ring box, the red rose that didn't need water because it had already died, and my shirt. But they weren't sad tears after a while. No. They were the tears of acceptance.
And it's the grand finale. What did you think? Seriously please be honest. I know I haven't written in this story for a good long while but here it is. The final step of the five stages of grief. Please tell me what you thought of it. I found out not too long ago that New Jersey (where "House MD" takes place) legalized same-sex marriages so I had to put it in here. That chapter took a lot out of me and please tell me if you think I should put in an epilogue or not. Your comments are always appreciated.