December 22nd 2022. The day my life was robbed of meaning. Robbed of a beloved wife. Robbed of a cherished son. Robbed of light, and love, and happiness. Robbed by a semi with corners cut on its maintenance. Two brilliant lights extinguished for eternity by sixty thousand pounds of out of control metal and cargo.
It wasn't just me. Josh's wife, Ava, had been with me. Helping make festive preparations for a celebration that would never happen. It was Ava who had opened the door to the State Troopers. A man and woman looking so sombre that the news they relayed in hushed, overly-controlled, voices was almost superfluous. We knew. Ava and I both knew.
On a gray and cold January day, I stood with Ava on one side, my daughter, Alexis, on the other. My arms round both, tears flowing, as we said goodbye to a mother and her child; a husband and a brother. Alexis had spoken at the service. Neither Ava nor I could bear to. I threw dirt into each of the adjoining holes, scattering it over burnished cherry wood. Then, turning away, left them behind. But turning towards what? Emptiness? Loneliness? Grief?
Ava and I had insisted on closed casket. We had crystalline memories, maybe too crystalline. There was no need to bid adieu to painted mannequins; at most the shells of previously vibrant, luminous beings.
Ava? My sorrow was like two spears, driven deep into my breast. But hers? I couldn't imagine hers. A few years ago, not long before Josh had met her, she had buried her Mother. The poor woman had been cut down by the plague that shortened so many lives. Then, two months later, her Father was also in the ground. Tragically by his own hand. He couldn't face life without Ava's mother. I worried that Ava had inherited that tendency; I worried about that tendency in me as well.
Josh had been Ava's guide out of grief. Savior was a strong word. Ava was her own person, the youngest Associate Professor at her Research Institute. A rising academic star. But my son had eased her pain. Helped her to smile again, to look positively towards the future. They had married only the previous August. So had just a few brief months together. The promise of a shared life destroyed. Replaced by the potential of a lifetime of heartache and regret. Vanessa and I had shared thirty years. I didn't know if that was better or worse. There was no ISO unit of loss. No way to quantify and compare pain.
Vanessa Ann Anderson : 1972 --2022
Joshua David Anderson : 1994 --2022
As we walked away from the remains of our loved ones, Alexis squeezed my hand, kissed my cheek, and diverted to find the arms of her husband. He was holding their baby. Little Sophia. At least Van had got to meet her, to hold her granddaughter. The trip to California had been her last. Alexis's departure left me and Ava. Alexis and Bob felt more distant than the few feet they were away from us. Maybe Ava felt it too as she slipped her hand into mine; her eyes still fixed on the ground. We walked the sixty feet or so to the waiting limos; raven black and with windows tinted to shield our tears from the world.
Seated now, Ava buried her face in my shoulder and wept disconsolately. Her sorrow spilled into anger and she beat on my chest with her fist.
"Why, Martin? Why were they taken from us?"
I had no answers. The World was a cruel place, our journey through it was essentially random, and life was fragile. All true, none suitable consolation for a twenty-nine year old widow. I let her take it out on me. Alexis leaned, put a hand on Ava's shoulder, and she collapsed into sobbing again. I put my arms round her and lied that it would all be OK. I knew nothing would be OK. Not ever.
- - -
They say that time heals all wounds. That's bullshit. Some wounds are too deep. Ava had, of course, remained at the house after the funeral. Sending her home alone to her apartment would have be cruel and unusual punishment. And she just sort of stayed.
Alexis and Bob had departed with my granddaughter. I'd promised to visit in the Summer; and to FaceTime. The next day, Ava was sitting in the kitchen, her packed bag beside her. Staring into a cup of coffee.
"I don't think I can do it, Martin."
We'd talked about what she should call me and Van before the wedding. So long as it wasn't Mr and Mrs Anderson, anything else was fine by us. She'd toyed with Mom and Dad, but I think the memory of her departed parents haunted her. We settled on Martin and Vanessa.
"What can't you do, honey?"
She dropped her head and seemed to squeeze her cup harder.
"I can't go back to the apartment. All our things, all those memories. Coming back to it after the wedding. After the honeymoon. I just can't. I think I'm going to sell it."
I moved closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up with tears forming in her eyes.
"Can I...? Can I stay here for a bit? Until the sale goes through. Until I find somewhere else."
My heart went out to her. This woman that my son had loved so much. Who had become part of our family so quickly and naturally.
"Ava. You are family. Whatever you call me, you're my daughter. You can stay as long as you like. To be honest, I was dreading you leaving. This place? So big and just me rattling around in it. I'd welcome the company. It's not as if..."
The tears overwhelmed me. I stumbled and reached for the table blindly, feeling the world spin round me. Ava stood and steadied me. She pulled out the chair next to her and eased me down. Turning her own chair to face me, she took both my hands, and we sat. Not sharing words, but sharing loss.
What I had said was true. The house felt less empty with her around. The weight of Vanessa's absence was less severe. I guessed it was the same for her. I had always though that Josh had chosen brilliantly. Ava was obviously crazy smart, but she was funny, and compassionate, and interested in so many things. No one could take the place of my real daughter, but Alexis was far away. And, somehow, Ava became the focus of my life.
It wasn't as if either of us were miraculously healed. I often cried at night, thinking of cuddling against Van's warmth. I often woke feeling the bottom had fallen out of The World and that I was in free-fall to oblivion. Ava and I talked. She had the same anxiety, the same sorrow. It bound us closer again. Her apartment was sold, but I told her there was no need to leave until she wanted to. I was honest with her and said that I'd like her to stay. To stay for me.
Six months after the funeral, she was still sleeping in Alexis's old room. Still bringing a little light to my gloomy existence. It was not as if we lived in each other's pockets. She had gone back to work. Science was such a part of her, and she worked long hours; I normally waited up for her. I also had my job, in IT consulting. I travelled with that. Each trip, I yearned to be back home. Back with at least a sliver of my old life. Back with the person who understood and shared my grief. We took care of each other. What was wrong with having a second daughter? What was wrong with Ava having a surrogate Father?
Nothing it seemed, until she told me that there was something important she wanted to talk to me about.
- - -
It had been in the morning, as we shared a pre-work coffee. She didn't want to talk now, but asked if I was free that evening.
Of course I pressed her on what it was. But she was adamant that we wait until later. I was short of time as well, and we departed in opposite directions; me feeling frustrated with her, a most uncustomary feeling.
By the time we had eaten that night, I had convinced myself that she wanted to move out. That she had found someone new. I guessed that it was inevitable. Ava was highly intelligent and also an attractive woman. Her mother had been Vietnamese, her father a Euro-mutt; much like myself. She'd inherited the best of both sides, and had a calm elegance, a willowy suppleness of movement, and a delicacy of features that any man would covet.
Yes, that was what it must be. A new man. How stupid could I have been to think that?
- - -
We sat at the dining table. At ninety degrees to each other. Plates pushed to one side. Ava had her black hair back in a sensible ponytail for work, and was wearing her rimless glasses. She looked every inch the committed Biologist that she was. Her work went over my head. Something to do with the spliceosome, whatever that might be. She had been preoccupied during dinner. I knew her well enough to not push things.
Now we sat in a silence that was becoming almost a third presence. I could tell she was fighting some internal battle. Perhaps revisiting a decision she thought she had already made. I felt bad for her and, in my blundering way, tried to help. I put my hand on hers and spoke softly.
"Ava, you know I have loved having you here. I don't know how I would have got through the first few months without you."
"You too, Martin. I needed you as well."
She smiled. But a tight smile, something else clearly on her mind.
"But... but we never said forever. You have your own life and... well, if you have met someone, and..."
Ava laughed. A short and bitter laugh.
"No. No I haven't met anyone. I don't... don't really want that. Not now at least."
I blushed, my reading of people was clearly off. Or maybe it had been my own fears speaking to me. I realized that I desperately wanted her to stay.
"Oh, I'm sorry. My stupid mistake. I just think that a lot of men would like you, the way... the way Josh did. He was crazy about you. But I'm rambling. Telling you things you know. I'm sorry. Just an old man getting it wrong."
"You're not so old, Martin. And thank you for the compliment. You mentioned Josh. It's sort of Josh I want to talk to you about."
She leaned towards me. Wanting to speak softly.
"Martin, I feel I have nothing to live for. I feel so empty. Work doesn't mean what it used to. In fact I blame work. He'd wanted to, he'd really wanted to. And I had this major project. And... and then it was too late. You think you have time..."
She trailed off leaving me confused.
"I know, honey. I know. I miss both Van and Josh, every hour, every day. But, I have something to live for. I have Alexis. And Sophia. And, Ava, I have you. I hoped that maybe I had helped... you know, just a little..."
It was my turn to run out of words.
"Of course you have helped."
She squeezed my hand.
"Without you... well... I have been thinking about Dad a lot..."
Tears sprung into her eyes and a cold horror into my heart. I went and knelt in front of Ava, embracing her. Holding her close. This was nothing strange, we always tried to comfort each other, and sometimes physical comfort is more powerful than words.
I raised her lovely face. I kissed her forehead.
"Now, no more of that, Ava. You don't need to despair. You have me. You will always have me."
She nodded and wiped away her tears.
"I know, and I'm grateful, truly. But... but I need more."
"What do you need, Ava? What can I do to help?"
A shudder ran through her. She tried to collect herself, but her voice was hoarse and trembled as she spoke.
"I did an awful job of explaining. Let me go slower. Josh wanted to have children. He wanted to start trying even before we were married."
I nodded. He'd talked to me about it.
"But.. I... It's not that I didn't, I did. But I thought later. I thought maybe when I'd finished the project. We were so close to a breakthrough, and... and, at least back then, it seemed important. Not anymore. Not now. So... so we agreed to wait. Not long. A year, maybe. But we never had that year."
Again she began to sob, but more softly than before.
"It's OK, Ava. Take your time. It's OK."
She took a few deep breaths. As if she was preparing to dive into water. And then she dove.
"I want that still. I want the baby I can't have. I want his baby, Martin."
I held her again. Her slim form heaving. I was bemused, no idea where this conversation was going. But I knew to hold her.
She rallied a little, and pulled back from my embrace.
"But, I can't. I know I can't. I thought about adopting. I thought about a sperm bank. But that doesn't work. I don't want
