There was less danger that way. There were no shocks or letdowns. Then they came that night to my patio.
The sky was turning soft pinks and purples as the sun went down. I sat there with my tea, not happy but accepting what was happening. The picture is of a sunset.
The picture is of a sunset. It was like putting on an old sweater: it felt good, even though it didn’t fit quite right. During these quiet times, my thoughts often went to the family in the park.
Something about their laughing and being together made me feel bad that I couldn’t quite get rid of. I couldn’t help but think about them. Where they from?
How often did they go to the park? I might see them again. What did they call themselves?
I told myself off for having these thoughts. I usually didn’t think too much about strangers or make up stories about options that didn’t involve me, but… they were living the life I should have had with Tom. I would have given anything to feel the happiness they shared.
I took a sip of my tea and grimaced because it was so bitter. I was lost in thought and let it steep for too long. My phone rang just as I was about to get up and make a new cup.
I almost spilled my tea when I jumped at the sudden noise in the quiet. I thought it would probably work. But the screen made my blood run cold.
“IF YOU ONLY KNEW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO OUR FAMILY.”
The cup broke on the patio tiles when it fell from my hand. Tea got on my feet, but I didn’t even notice. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel it in my throat.
What did I do? My mind went back over every conversation I had had in the last few days. Who?
The family at the park? Was something going on? Was it my fault?
Fear grabbed my throat. Even though I was only in their lives for a moment, I messed up everything. The same thing happened with Tom.
He was there one minute and not there the next. Oh my God. I walked around the patio, stepping on broken pieces of ceramic.
I didn’t really feel the pain. My mind was full of the worst-case scenarios. Had I taken that picture by chance of something I shouldn’t have?
Had I caused a terrible accident in some way? I felt like I was drowning in the solitude I had wrapped around myself like a protective cloak. I didn’t have anyone to call or someone to tell me everything would be okay.
I was by myself with this scary, obscure message and my racing thoughts. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and stared at the words until they became fuzzy. Should I answer?
Say sorry? But why? It hurt a lot to be unsure.
Another message showed up before I could decide:
“Dear Madam, on August 8th, you took our picture.” This is the last picture of my family as a whole before she died yesterday. Everything stopped. It hurt my ears.
I read the message over and over, hoping that the words would change. They didn’t, though. I saw the mom’s face flash before my eyes.
I remembered her warm smile and the way she looked at her kids with love. Gone. That’s it.
I fell to my knees and didn’t care that the cup around me was broken. At that point, I loved and even hated her because she had what I wanted most. The guilt hit me like a force, and then the sadness came after it.
For this family I barely knew and for my own loss, which felt new and raw all at once. I could see Tom’s face, hear him laugh, and feel his warm hand on mine. All of the memories I had worked so hard to forget came back to me.
The words I typed were shaking in my hands:
“I’m really sorry for your loss. “I have no idea what you’re going through.”
I could, though. I could, God.
The nothingness, the shock, and the strong desire to go back in time. I was too aware of it. I wore it all the time, like a second skin.
I wanted to offer any kind of relief over the phone, but what could I say that would make them feel better? His answer came quickly:
“What a wonderful day. She was really happy.
Thanks to you, we’ll always remember that. The tears came quickly and hard. That family made me cry.
They had lost a mother, and their children would only have memories to grow up with. I cried for Tom, myself, and all the wonderful days we never got to have. Someone or something inside me moved as I sobbed.
That picture, which was just a small favor I had almost forgotten about, had saved the life of a family who was mourning. In my small way, I gave them something valuable: a moment that would never happen again. I thought of Tom and the last picture we had together.
I held on to it so tight in those dark days after he died. It wasn’t much, but it was something to hold on to when it seemed like everything else was going away. That could be what life is all about.
A bunch of different moments, some big and some small, but all important in their own ways. We can still bring light to others even when things are gloomy. One last time, I looked at my phone.
The words of the man were light up on the screen. After taking a big breath, I did something I hadn’t done in years. The last picture of Tom and me together was in my gallery.
The first time I looked at it, I didn’t feel like I was going to drown in sadness. I was thankful for the time we had together instead, but it was sad. Telling Tom, my family, and the whole world, “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Thank you for the perfect days.”
