005:

But she had never loved the way she loved Jared. He shared everything with her. He shared the worst and the best moments of her life. He shared the real her, the person nobody else really knew, nobody.

Where were those arms? Tighter, she cried inside in anguish, hold me tighter. She could hear his voice, smell his body. Hold me tighter.

But he wasn't there.

She reached down to the pocket of her sweater and felt the crinkle of the letter he'd written her and given to the ceremony keeper to hand out. There had been a lot of letters. She remembered each one thoughtfully. His mother, His father. Two. Each one of his brothers and his sister-in-law's. Each of his nieces and nephews. Her mother and father. Megan and Maille. One for Matthew. There was the letter for her, that was marked, open one year from today. Was he kidding? A year? She had to wait a year? 

He was crazy. Why would he give her a letter that had to wait for a year to be opened? That was stupid. Didn't he know how much she longed to be close to him right now? 

And then there was the book for Hannah. It had turned out absolutely amazing. He'd done a lot of it on DVD and those were in pockets inside the book. He'd had pictures put in the book, and letters written as well. It was a professionally bound book. It had days. Birthday events, special days. And just days, for no reason. May 3 when you're seven. November 14 when you're eleven. Just extra days he could share with her, still be a part of her life a little. Along with the DVD's, there were also audio CD's that they two had made together, singing silly songs. And along with the silly CD's and DVD's there were three of his favorite movies for them to watch together. He planned to watch Cinderella with her when she was four, and he had instructions for Mommy with that one. He wanted to watch the musical, The King and I with her when she was twelve, and there were also instructions, and finally, he wanted to watch Stardust with her when she was sixteen.

Melia contemplated Hannah at four, at sixteen... she could barely think of it.

She fingered the letter again.

Then she took it out and ripped her thumb under the edge where he had sealed it. It was five pages long.

And it started like this: (in his own printing, neat and concise.)

Darling,

You were supposed to wait a year! I can't believe you didn't even honor a dying man's request and wait a year to open this letter. I really can't believe that you would open it within hours of receiving it. You silly goof! I know you so well. You can't wait for anything, Miss Impatient, that's you!

(Melia glanced up, shaking her head. How could she deny it? She'd done it, and he'd pegged her so easily! She smiled. What else could she do? He'd known she would open it the first chance she was alone.)

Then he went on to ramble about what he was doing as he wrote the letter. Sitting on the beach while she slept next to him, the baby wasn't born yet, it had been about a month ago then. He'd been pretty intent on writing at that juncture, and he'd just abruptly quit when Hannah joined them. He'd held her every minute of her life.

He went on to describe exactly where he'd sat, what the sky and the ocean looked like, how the breeze felt, and what he heard. It was simply rambling, but to Melia it was a lifeline, and she couldn't put it down. She wanted it to go on and on, and it seemed he knew that. He talked about her practicing, the songs he liked, and the way her voice sounded to him. He was a critic, quite harsh, telling her when it didn't sound good, or when it was awesome. At least a page of this. It was specific, and nothing she hadn't heard before, but it was as if he were talking to her.

He talked about the baby. He talked about the book he'd made for her, and his hopes for it. He gave her instructions for using it so she wouldn't miss anything. She liked reading his instructions, they totally brought him to her in a way she was familiar with. In another page he went on about a dinner he wanted to make with her, he outlined the recipe and the place and the time. It was to be soon. She would have to make it. He didn't want her going back to Catalina. He thought she would have bad memories there. 

She didn't. 

She wanted to go back. 

He said she could if she wanted, but the last thing he thought she needed were depressing memories. He hadn't been sure how he would go, long and drawn out, or what. He was so glad it had not been long and drawn out. He mentioned that. Hoping that it would be quick. He gave a few paragraphs about what she could have been doing if it had been a long process. Then he gave her a short paragraph about what he thought about going fast.

"So, if it was fast. I hope you had a chance to say goodbye. I said all my goodbye's Melia. It's the best part of dying of a brain tumor. I could say goodbye. So many of my closest buddies died without saying goodbye so they said it early on, like in training and stuff. I did too. We all did. We told each other once how we felt about each other, and then after that it was in the salute. Did you know that's what that's about? The salute is for a reiteration of goodbye and respect. We've already planned the good-bye, so there's no need for anything but the salute to say hey, I love you, you will not be forgotten, your sacrifices will benefit all of humanity and your life will be meaningful because I will remember you. I think that's the biggest fear about dying, that you will be forgotten.

I guess I've gone to kind of a lot of trouble not to be forgotten. Ha! I hope everybody likes the letters. I am so bossy, telling them all what to do. They'll laugh and toss 'em, I'm sure. That's what I hope anyway. Nothing is so important that life will not go on without my letters. But I said goodbye to everyone but you. I am saving that. I will tell you goodbye. I will do it before I die, I hope they are my last words. I want to die telling you that I love you. I want to die with you in my arms. 

At first, I didn't. I didn't want you to remember me that way, or have those memories. That's so traumatic. But I also hope I am with you. I love being with you. You've given me so much love this past year, Melia, so much to live for.

I am so blessed by knowing you. You have become my life.

With this in mind Melia, I want you to consider going back to work. I know you want to be a stay at home mom, but I think you should keep up with your music, and your acting. I think you should write and play lots of music. I don't mean take some time off for grieving. I mean now. Go back to work. Go back to Utah and hang out with Matthew and Megan and Maille (all M's, how interesting!) and work. Throw yourself into it with all your heart. Become amazing.

At least a year, Mia. I want you to work for at least a year. Really try hard to focus. Give yourself that, okay? It's important to me that you do this. So do it for both of us!

And if you can, please, find a daddy for my baby girl, okay? I know you don't want to hear this, but I have to say it. Don't spend your life pining over me. Be productive. That honors us more than any wasting away you might feel inclined to do.

Okay, enough lecture. I love you. If there is a hereafter I will be waiting for you. Take heart. Be good. Don't get into any trouble. Take care of Hannah. She will need you to be strong. So do it.

Jared

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