I could hear the wind howling outside, one of those nights when the trees bend and sway as if dancing to a melancholy tune. I glanced at the clock; it was past eight. He should have been home by now. A pang of sadness rippled through me. I picked up my phone, the screen lighting up with a family photo of him smiling in front of our favorite vacation spot. I sighed, then called. Straight to his voicemail. Nothing unusual. I tapped my foot on the coffee table, the rhythmic movement hardly distracting me.
When the doorbell was held, the silence was brutal. I jumped, nearly spilling my tea. I opened the door and found two police officers, their faces grave and somber, their uniforms dripping wet from the rain. At the sight of them, a shiver ran down my spine, instinct telling me something was wrong.
Those words rang out like a hammer blow against a windowpane. They explained how he’d lost control on the bend at the edge of town, the worn tires, the slippery road. They said it was an accident. An accident. I listened, my heart pounding, nodding my head as if I understood, but inside, I was screaming.
Funeral days
The funeral was a blur, a hazy memory, too heavy to bear. I remember the scent of lilies mingling with the damp earth, the murmur of voices, and the stifled sobs of my children. I stand frozen here, as people perhaps pay their respects. Liam’s colleagues, their faces wet with tears, whispered anecdotes about his sense of responsibility, his habit of always double-checking locks, and how he filled up the tank before it dropped below half full.
“You were so lucky to have him,” they said, their words like lead balloons sinking ever deeper into my chest. My sister was beside me, her hand clasped in mine, holding tissues I never used. I had no more tears; it felt like my heart had run dry.
Then there were our children, clinging to me like a lifebuoy. Our seven-year-old daughter buried her face in my shoulder, while our five-year-old son squeezed my hand, his little fingers trembling. I felt so fragile, as if I might shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. I was afraid that if I let go, if I allowed myself to breathe too deeply, I too would disappear.
