8.
How was I going to get through this day? It was supposed to be my wedding day, but instead, the wedding guests would be saying farewell to the man I loved, in the garden where we were supposed wed. I was supposed to wear my beautiful wedding dress that still hung in its plastic bag on the back of my bedroom door, but instead, I was expected to wear black. Why? Why? Why? How would I do this? How could I say goodbye to him? I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not now, not ever!
My mother peeped into my bedroom, ‘Skye darling, I brought you some coffee.’
I rolled over pulling the blanket and pillows over my head. I felt the bed move as she sat down next to me and then I felt the blankets move and a pair of arms were lovingly wrapped around me as she wiggled her way until she was lying tightly next to me, her head snuggled into my neck.
‘Oh Skye my darling, if I were able to take this burden and sorrow from you I would in a second.’
And then she cried. I turned around and held her, crying with her. My heart so overcome with gratitude that when I needed a loving, unselfish and caring mother, it was what she had become. After a long while, my mother left me alone to get ready. I got up and dragged my body to the bathroom and noticed the wedding dress dancing against the door as I pulled it open. I took it off the hook and held it against my chest, longing for what this day was meant to be. I breathed in the smell of the dress as I held it to my face once I’d taken it out of the bag. I went back to my bed and lay down holding it. A deep sadness overwhelmed me and soon the dress was wet with my tears. In a state of complete distress, I stood up and put the dress on without bothering to close up the buttons, and then I got back into bed with a shattered heart. I pulled up the big skirt into a ball and held it to my chest, my body convulsing with grief as I nursed my broken heart.
Hysteria overcame me, and I screamed into the dress, ‘Callum! Callum! Why-why-why were you taken? It’s not fair, it’s not fair!’
With my screams increasing in volume, my words broke into colossal blubbering uncontrollable sobs and even though muffled by the dress and blankets, my father heard me when passing my bedroom. He shot through the bedroom door, flung the bed covers off the bed and swooped me into his arms as he sat down on the bed. I lay limp as a ragdoll in his arms, clinging to the dress, still sobbing, still calling out for Callum. My father cradled me and rocked me as he’d done when I was but a baby, stroking my hair and softly, so very softly whispering sweet nothings to me. My mother, hearing the commotion, rushed to my room with Callum’s parents, Cora and her family in tow. When they entered the room, our combined pain culminated in mass hysteria. Callum’s mother, on seeing me in the wedding dress collapsed into the chair next to the doorway, and Cora let out a squeal of anguish which set Logan off.
My mother sat with my father and me on the bed, and she gently rubbed my back although she was unable to speak as she was swept up in the pain. When I – for the moment – was unable to cry anymore, my father helped me to drink the coffee that was by now cold. Everyone else had – for now – also calmed down after the initial shock of me in the wedding dress. It was a blatant reminder of the joyous wedding day we were meant to be celebrating, but instead, we were expected to celebrate the life of my true love, a loving son and brother. My father, along with everyone else, only left when convinced I was able to function normally – as normal as was possibly on this day. My mother helped me get out of the wedding dress and into the brown, long-sleeved dress for the memorial service. She even put my shoes and jacket on for me. Before leaving the house, I was given a mild tranquillizer to help me stay calm.
Outside people had started to arrive and were mingling in the garden, helping themselves to refreshments and softly talking to one another. We all braced ourselves and stepped out of the living room to encounter the swarm of sympathies and condolences faithfully given by those who had loved Callum. I was a walking zombie. Without encountering too many people I made my way to my seat and sat down just in time before my legs gave way. Moira was by my side all the time thankfully. When she felt that a person lingered around me too long, and I began to get agitated, she would shoo them off. I was so grateful to her. It seemed to take forever for everyone to get to their seats so the service could begin, and hopefully end soon. I was shaking as the minister stood behind the podium and cleared his throat. I was panicking and the urge to run away, far away and never return swirled within me like a whirlpool.
‘I can’t, I can’t,’ I stuttered shaking, but before I could move my mother and father, sitting on either side of me, both wrapped their arms around my shoulders.
‘Shh, shh. Take a deep breath my sweet. Take a deep breath and hold onto us.’
My mother held my one hand with her free hand, and my father did likewise with my other hand. I felt my shoulders shake, and before I knew it, I was choking on the loud tortured grief-stricken pangs that flew out from deep within me. My parents through their anxiety tried with all their might to comfort me. I vaguely heard Veronica and Cora battling just as much as I was.
Finally, the drugs took over and for the rest of the service, I sat numb and rigid in my seat, exempt from all the looks of compassion given by all those who offered their eulogies – until Millar stood in front of me with his hands requesting mine. I gave my hands to him; he held them with one hand and with his other shaking hand he held the microphone. He looked at each family member as he spoke but then stopped to force down the lump in his throat and to wipe the tears cascading down his face.
‘I am so sorry we acted like foolish kids that day. I’m so sorry I was unable to save Callum…’
His shoulders slumped as he tried to console himself enough to continue, ‘I loved Callum as my brother…’
He was unable to carry on, and I stood up and folded my arms around him slowly bringing him with me to sit next to me – my father moved up, so he was able to sit between the two of us. There was not a single dry eye in the garden. Millar leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, uncontrollably distraught. My heart cried out for this man who had loved my Callum so much. The minister ended the service realising to continue would be far too painful and cruel for everyone.
While the guests and family had snacks and refreshments, I took Millar to the pool. I had not been there since that fateful day. We stood there and faced our pain and sorrow as the vivid images of Callum’s limp, lifeless body brought to an end our lives as we knew them. We sat on the edge and dangled our feet in the freezing water and began to reminisce about Callum’s life. It was good medicine for our souls as we found laughter amidst all the sadness, remembering the fun times and the wonderful person he had been and always would be. We agreed to erect a memorial stone together for Callum right there where we sat, in the next few days. I told Millar about the wedding dress episode that morning. He looked skyward and while brushing dry his tear-stained face he said he had practically done the same thing with his suit.
‘Let’s burn the dress and the suit and scatter them with his ashes tomorrow,’ I suggested.
Millar looked at me contemplating what I’d said.
‘If I keep that dress I will become a morbid lunatic. It just cuts me too deep when I see it...’ I said to Millar beseechingly.
He smiled and nodded without saying a word. Words were not required.
In the morning, Millar and I burnt the dress and his suit quietly in the back garden without anyone aware of our decision. Later that day we went to a spot in the hills where Callum had loved to hike, only the family, and Millar and Moira. Fletcher, Callum's father, took the ashes and before he threw them across the lush green bushes I asked if I could add ours. The family was stunned to say the least but consented realising that now was no time to argue. Callum, my wedding dress and Millar’s suit flew into the air with the breeze and settled over the land finally at rest. However, for our souls rest was not to come for a long while still.