The door swung open, and there he was, standing before me in dark jeans and a green T-shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. His breath caught the moment he saw me, and what looked like relief danced across his features.
“Mia.” He said my name and it sounded like a prayer as it left his lips.. “Thank God. I didn’t know how much longer I could stay away.”
He pulled me close, breathing me in, as my body was engulfed in his. His lips found my forehead, and he placed a soft kiss against my skin, silently telling me he loved me.
I was home.
No building or structure would ever feel as inviting and safe as Garrett’s warm body wrapped around mine. Homes were not built of wood or brick. They were built by the memories and love we created in them. As long as I had Garrett, I could go anywhere, do everything, and conquer any obstacle life threw at us.
“I’m so sorry it took me so long,” I said softly.
“I told you I would wait. I meant it. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to see you,” he confessed.
He pulled me inside and shut the door behind us before ushering us to his room.
“I just need to hold you,” he admitted when I raised my eyebrow at his location selection.
Hearing no complaints from me, he lay down on the plush mattress, and I settled in next to him, breathing in a sigh of contentment.
“I missed this,” I said, running my hands under the hem of his shirt to feel the tight skin of his abdomen.
He sucked in a breath as my fingers skimmed his stomach, and I smiled, knowing I could still affect him so with just a single touch.
“There’s so much I want to tell you, Garrett, so much I want to explain. When you left me that day, I thought I’d never be able to pull myself out of the ocean of guilt I’d created. How could I move forward when I was the one to blame for all our failures?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it now. I’ve realized that there are things in life that cannot be controlled. Grief is a part of life, but it can’t become our life. I’d allowed grief to take over and rule my entire existence because I’d never allowed myself to say good-bye to our daughter. I’d held on to her, the grief and the life I’d never know. But it wasn’t really grief I was experiencing. It was regret and shame. I was blaming myself for snuffing out her existence, and by doing so, I wasn’t allowing myself to let go.”
His eyes were glassy. “And did you finally say good-bye?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
A bit of disappointment flashed across his face, so I continued quickly, “But I’m going to…today. We both are.”
His brows furrowed together in confusion as he sat up on his elbows. “I don’t understand.”
“Will you go somewhere with me?” I asked.
“I’d go anywhere with you.”
***
We held hands as we made our way down the familiar path, the sounds of our footsteps adding to the natural rhythm of the swaying trees and chirping birds. I hadn’t told him why we were here, and he hadn’t asked. He just patiently waited for me to explain.
When we turned the corner and found ourselves at his family’s plot, standing in front of his father’s newly installed headstone, he turned to me in confusion.
“Why are we here?” he asked.
“So, we can say good-bye,” I explained, pointing to the new granite marker that had been installed next to his father’s.
Garrett took a step closer, his eyes scrunching together, as he read the words. “Her name was Hope?” he whispered as he fell to his knees. His fingers lightly touched the raised lettering as if he was memorizing it by feel.
I stepped forward and knelt beside him.
“Your mother told me to give her a name. She said it would help me heal and grieve. I know you always loved the name Hope.”
“It’s beautiful,” he choked out.
We silently looked down at the memorial that marked the memory of our child.
Hope Elizabeth Finnegan
Our darling Hope. Too beautiful for Earth, but we will hold you in Heaven.
Until then…
“Why Elizabeth?” he asked, never taking his eyes off that tiny plaque.
“I wanted her to have a family name. You mother told me Elizabeth was a name that had been passed down from generation to generation.”
He nodded, swallowing hard, as he fought back heavy emotions. “It’s my sister’s middle name as well.”
“I know.”
He finally looked up at me, his eyes wet from unshed tears.
“You gave her my last name,” he whispered.
“She’s our child, Garrett. What other name would I have given her?”
Like so many times before, he bent his head toward mine and kissed my forehead as he pulled me into his arms. “Thank you for this,” he said.
“Your mother helped immensely. Without her, I think I’d still be curled up in bed, covered in old photographs, unable to forgive myself. She helped me in so many ways. She’s an amazing woman.”
Cupping my chin, he placed a brief, tender kiss on my lips, and I felt every emotion he was pouring into me—love, sadness, grief, but most of all, hope. We had hope for our future, our family, and our ever-growing strength. I’d named our daughter well.
He turned his head back to the bronze marker. His vivid green eyes wandered over each word, drinking them in, savoring them.
“She would have had your smile and that cute button nose,” he said with a half smile. “She would have had my eyes and my stubbornness.”
“She would have been tall like you, towering above the boys in her class, with skinny long legs meant for running while being chased by her daddy.”
His smile grew, and he looked down at the ground as if he was picturing her. I knew I was. I could see her image solidifying before me.
Our Hope.
“She’d have a voice just like yours and sing like an angel. I would have spent my evenings in quiet contentment just listening to the two of you making music together,” he said, bringing me to tears.
“There wouldn’t have been a moment of her life we wouldn’t have loved her, watching her grow, seeing her rise and fall, win and lose, as she battled her way through life. We would have loved her unconditionally and without end.” The sobs tore as each word stumbled out of my mouth.
“Someday, we will have our chance to love her,” Garrett said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to comfort me.