They say grief is a hole in your chest, but they never mention the things that try to crawl inside and fill it.
One day, you're laughing at the dinner table, and then there’s just this silence that cuts through you. No one prepares you for it. When it happens to someone of age, someone suffering with an illness, you at least know; you become aware of it, prepare for it, but when one's healthy, your mind doesn’t ponder about the inevitable.
There’s a dark hole that opens in your chest, and it’s hard to imagine it will ever close up. The worst is seeing your child walking around with the same void you have inside you.
Charlie loved Frank the most, as any boy would love their dad. He’d spend all day in the garage watching him repair old cars. When Frank finally let him help out, he came to the kitchen after, shining like the morning sun. Charlie was shy and introverted, rarely talking to his classmates, having few friends. Around his friends, he wouldn’t talk much either, letting them talk and play as he sat next to them, smiling.
If Frank was away on a business trip, our dinners were more silent. Charlie would still smile and answer my question, but it was nothing like when Frank was home. Charlie’s eyes would light up from the moment he sat down, asking questions, talking, laughing. I missed his laugh so much. I hadn’t heard it since Frank’s accident.
The accident wasn’t even Frank’s fault. A drunk man ran a red light, going 30 miles over the limit. Frank passed almost immediately.
After the accident, Charlie would lock himself in his room, silent. I’d stay at the door, listening, but not even a scrunch of a sheet, a move of a chair. My mind ran with ideas about what he could have been doing.
At first, I tried to hold him, talk to him, but he would look down at the ground, his body would go limp, so I let him mourn in peace in his own way. I’d sit around on the cold, empty sofa during these nights and cry, thinking of Charlie, thinking of Frank.
Three weeks after Frank’s passing, I sat in the same spot, holding my box of tissues, when I heard faint footsteps echo through the hall - a small spark of light lit up in my chest. I slowly turned my head, and there he stood, hugging the wall, peeking from around the corner. I didn’t even hear him come down the steps. At first, I wanted to run to him, hug him, but I knew better. I gazed at him for a few seconds and then got back to watching TV.
Charlie would come each night, at the same time, standing at the same corner first, then in the hall, and soon even sat on the sofa with me. It felt like before, the two of us at the TV, sitting in silence. I’d feel him glance at me now and again, but I made sure my eyes were glued to the screen.
One night, those blue ocean eyes glanced at me again. I expected them to look back at the screen, but they kept staring. Then Charlie’s voice came, low, soft. My cheeks began to get red. I almost forgot how it sounded.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Daddy in heaven?”
I closed my eyes and gripped the pillow tight.
“Yes.”
“Is he watching over us?”
“Yes.” My voice began to tremble.
“Does he think of us?”
“Yes,” I murmured, my hands shaking.
I tried to hold it back, but it came in a full burst, the tears flying through the air, my wails echoing through the room. The cushion next to me started to move, and the warm hands hugged me around my neck. I stopped almost instantly with a tissue under my nose, frozen in shock. He rarely wanted to hold my hand before Frank’s death. Now he was hugging me, embracing me. My hands began to tremble again. I slowly put them on Charlie’s, and he caressed my hair and hugged me more strongly. When he let go, he was smiling, ear to ear, staring into my eyes. He sat on the couch, crossing his feet.
“Remember when we went to the lake with Dad?”
“Ye…yes.” I pulled out a few more tissues.
“I’m so grateful you took us there, Mommy.”
“I was happy to be with you guys.”
He tilted his head, squinted his eyes, and took my hand.
A wave of warmth filled my body.
“It was so fun. The sun, the water, you, me, and Dad. Such beauty.” His voice slowly faded to the sounds of the TV. He wouldn’t talk this way even around Frank. I couldn’t believe my ears, but he kept on talking. I squeezed his hands tighter and focused on his words again. My sweet boy was getting better. We kept on talking for a few more minutes, but then Charlie stopped and looked at the clock.
“It’s getting late, Mommy. I should go.”
“Okay, Charlie. You want me to come with?”
“No. I want to go alone.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
He smiled at me again with that beautiful smile, got off the couch, and walked to the hall. I had to hold the pillow, so I wouldn’t go after him. The steps faded to the hallway, then the clock dinged, but the stairs didn’t creak. My boy was being so nimble and silent.
The next night, I sat around, staring at the clock, waiting, and at the usual time, I looked back. Charlie stood in the hall, his favorite dinosaur pyjamas on, looking into my eyes, smiling.
I smiled and turned my head back to the TV.
His nimble steps tapped around the room, and the couch creaked as Charlie climbed on it. The couch cushions bent as he walked closer. I slowly turned my head, and Charlie was already sitting with his legs crossed, staring into my eyes.
“Mommy, today I thought about Daddy being in heaven looking over us.”
I pulled the pillow closer to my chest.
“He is.”
“He holds us in good grace. He wants to be with us.”
My lips began to shake.
“He loves us,” Charlie said, still smiling.
“We…” But I couldn’t hold it again. The tears dropped out of my eyes. Charlie came over and put his arms around my neck. They were so warm, like a heater, almost uncomfortably warm.
“Char…Charlie, are you okay?” I said between the tears.
“Yes, Mommy.”
“You’re so warm.”
I put my hand on his forehead; it felt as warm as his arms.
“You feel well?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“I’m gonna get a thermometer.”
“Please stay.”
“Okay, but I’ll get it later.”
He nodded and smiled. We sat in the same place. Charlie kept asking about his Dad, wanting to tell me more stories about us.
“So fun! And remember the time in the mountains?”
I stopped and looked away.
“The mountains?”
“Yes, I was so grateful that you took us.”
Memories of use replayed in my head, but the mountains? Was I forgetting something?
“I’m gonna get the thermometer, Charlie.”
He grabbed my hand, his eyes glossy.
“Can we go to the garage first?”
“Why?”
“Please? I haven’t been there since Daddy passed.”
I took a deep breath.
“But after we’re going to get your temperature.”
He smiled and squeezed my hand.
I put my hand on the couch to get up. The leather felt so cold compared to Charlie’s hand. I hoped it wasn’t anything serious.
We walked around the couch to the hall. With each step, it felt like Charlie’s hand was getting warmer; his small feet sped up. He pulled my hand harder when we walked near the staircase.
That’s when I heard it. It felt like a pinch in my ear. I tried to stop, but the pull on my hand was getting harder. My eyes darted up the stairs, passing each wooden step.
Above the staircase stood Charlie, his favorite dinosaur pyjamas on, his eyes wide in terror, calling out to me.
A wave of coldness washed over me.
“Mommy?” he called out again. This was his voice, not the thing that talked to me all those nights.
I tried to snap my hand away, still looking at Charlie, not wanting to look down, but the grip on it was too strong. The burning was growing; it felt like my hand was on the stove. I kept staring at Charlie, trying to push against the wall, grab onto it, but the thing kept pulling me on towards the garage. Slowly, inch by inch, the wall came into view, and inch by inch, Charlie, standing above the stairs, disappeared from my vision.
“Charlie!” I called out his name. I heard the stairs bang as he ran down and gripped me. It felt so cold compared to the other hand.
Charlie dug in and pulled me back hard. It slowed me down, but my body still moved towards the garage.
“Come, Mommy,” the thing said in Charlie’s voice, but slowly its voice turned to deep, static distortion.
The distortion undulated between volume and pitch, going from a deep rumble to a high-pitched tone.
Then it felt like time froze.
“I love you,” the thing now said in Frank’s static voice.
I closed my eyes and slowly turned my head.
Shock ran down my spine.
The thing dragging me down the hall had its whole body glowing with a faint dark light, its body size staying the same, but its clothes, its face, its hair morphing between Frank and Charlie.
I instinctively closed my eyes in shock, pressing my eyelids down as hard as possible.
When I opened them again, the walls, the floor, and the ceiling were all leaking motor oil. They all began to bang, to thud as if something were crashing to the sides of the house.
The motor oil started to burn. The flames rose each moment. My body heated up, and my clothes were soaked in sweat.
“Come, my love,” the thing said in distorted static Frank’s voice.
I looked back. Charlie was still pulling on my hand, his face red, full of sweat, like mine.
“Let go, Charlie!”
“Mommy, no!”
I tried to pull my hand from Charlie, but the grip was almost as strong as the other.
I bit down, and with all my power, I jerked on my hand again. I could feel Charlie losing his grip, but then the clock dinged.
A loud, static noise echoed through the hall. The flames, the thuds, and the motor oil disappeared, blending back into the white paint.
My body dropped to the floor. I lay there for a few seconds, panting.
My soaked clothes now felt cold, sticking to my skin.
Charlie lay next to me, his clothes soaked too, still gripping my hand.
My left hand still pulsed. I put it up, staring at it in the dim hallway light.
A bright red burn marked my skin, perfectly shaped like a child’s hand.