Ninety...

“It’s July 20th.” I think to myself as I get out of bed and make breakfast. It’s been three months since Rob’s accident and it still doesn’t seem real. I pour a glass of water while looking at the two wine glasses that are still on the counter next to the sink. They’re the only items I haven’t moved yet from when he was still here.
After getting caffinated I go for a run through Freedom Park with various people singing in my ears through my iPOD. The Saving Abel song I heard the day of Rob’s funeral, “Beautiful Day” comes on and the tears come immediately. It’s too hard to run and cry so I stop to walk instead of stopping the tears. The word’s “Rob” and “funeral” shouldn’t be in the same sentence.
I eventually make it home, get cleaned up and race to mom and dad’s. My aunt has dropped off Rob’s cell phone for me to take to his mom today. I’m going to her friend Diane’s house to make the sparklies while they scrapbook.
I run around mom and dad’s, returning a few things I ran off with last week, including a huge extension cord. I know the phone is waiting for me on the deck outside but I don’t want to let go of the extension cord just yet. I let their dog Gus, out, gather some of my mail that is still being delivered to them, then drop the cord off in the basement.
Back upstairs, I go outside, and pick up Rob’s phone from the chair it was left in and let Gus back in. The phone was placed in a plastic Zipoc bag with a note to Rob’s mom. I take the phone out and examine it, turning it over in my hands. I don’t think I’ve ever held it before. Well, there was one time… he was in the shower and I placed a small card, the size of a business card inside it. The card said “I love you” in small print across the front of it. I remember finding the card later on his nightstand with movie ticket stubs when we went to move his things out of his apartment in Anderson.
I turn the phone on and notice it has a low battery. I remember finding the charger in Anderson as well and I think I gave it to Kate but I don’t remember. I quickly turn it off, grab my keys and head to Diane’s.
All my stress and craziness melts away upon entering her door. It reminds me of how I felt when I knew Rob was at my door. I’ve waited all week to see them, relax and not think about anything else except what my hands are doing.
There are lots of hugs, hellos, and how are ya’s when I walk inside. We talk, eat lunch, talk some more, and start setting up to work on our various projects.
“Melissa, I have Randy’s scrapbook out over there, if you want to take a look at it.” Judy tells me. Her brother died in 2003 and she’s been collecting memories and writing short stories about him for a while now.
“Of course!” I sit down at the table and open the dark green book, smiling at the pictures, stopping to re-read some of the stories again. I turn the pages and stop at one in particular of Judy when she was really young. Her face is turned over her shoulder, looking at the camera and her expression takes my breath away. Her smiles lights up the entire picture exactly like Rob‘s. Tears sting my eyes but I can’t stop looking at her. I eventually turn the pages. Towards the end there’s another picture of her when she’s a little older, wearing that same bright smile. I love looking at her because it’s almost like looking at him again, even now. There was a brief moment after Rob died that I entertained the idea of “what if I were pregnant?” I imagined having a bright little, mischievous boy with straight brown hair and a warm smile that matched his father’s. He’d be my little piece of Rob to carry with me always.
Eventually I get started on a new necklace. We’re all rather quiet as we get sucked into our various projects. As my fingertips turn gray from wrapping wire around flower beads I imagine Rob working outside with Diane’s husband Gary. I then think that we wouldn’t be here together if Rob were still alive. We’d be at his parent’s, picking up Jake, driving back to Atlanta, maybe going to Atkins Park for dinner and going to sleep. His alarm would wake him up at 3 am and he’d get ready for work, stopping just before it was time to go, lean over me, kiss me, tell me he loves me and leave. I’d wake up later on Monday morning, not wanting to open my eyes, knowing he wasn’t there, but getting up anyways, later receiving a text message from him while getting coffee.
We leave Diane’s around six. I think while I’m packing up my car again that in his death, Rob brought me so many amazing people to share my life with. It is no replacement for him but if anything good can come out of something that hurts so much it’s these fabulous people whose lives he touched and vice versa.