Release

Have you ever been in the middle of doing something completely mundane - buying milk, or pumping gas - felt a chill, and knew, in that instant something happened that would change your life forever?

Neither had I, until one year ago.

Exactly one year and six hours ago, I lived a perfect existence. I was married to the love of my life, my soul mate. Today my life is less than perfect, and it's my fault, but I've come to terms with it.

* * *

My wife Beth and I met on an airplane somewhere over Washington.

We were both journalists and both flying red eye from Vancouver to Atlanta to cover the 1996 Summer Olympics. I saw her waiting in line to check in, her cell phone clutched to her ear like a lifeline. She wore baggy track pants and a sweater. Her hair was a mess and she wore no makeup. I thought she was beautiful.

Later, she would joke that it must have been love at first sight if I thought she was beautiful in that moment.

I always laughed, but she was right, it was.

I considered it fate that there was an empty seat across the aisle from where she sat. I took it, knowing no one else would claim it. This was my destiny.

This plane, this woman, this moment.

I pulled a novel from my carry on above her head and my Olympic Games press pass fell into her lap. She looked up and saw me for the first time and smiled. I don't remember breathing.

"Who are you?" She flipped my pass over in her hands trying to find a name.

"Daniel, from ‘The Province'."

"Hi Daniel from ‘The Province'. I'm Beth from ‘The Sun'."

For the rest of the night we spoke in whispers and hushed laughter. Neither of us slept, there was no time - we had an entire lifetime to catch up on.

* * *

When I was told she died, I was standing in a hotel lobby.

I was sweaty and tired from my day in hot taxis and trudging through the stormy weather. I was in Phuket doing a free lance article for a travel magazine. No one told me Thailand in September was so wet and humid.

My cell phone was pressed against my ear, static crackled on the bad connection. The crowded lobby was louder than usual and I was having trouble hearing the phone. A group of tourists were standing near me riled up about something on TV and I had to strain to hear over them.

"Dad, I didn't hear what you just said."

"You need to come home Dan." The finality in his voice broke my heart before I even knew what happened.

"Dad, tell me. Please." I was already sinking to my knees in the middle of the crowded room.

God, please don't let it be one of my girls.

"...found Beth...plane crash..."

"What? God! I can't hear you. Shit! Dad! It's Beth? What?"

"...dead...Beth's dead."

I was kneeling on the cold tiles surrounded by gaping strangers when I felt my heart explode. It shattered in my chest, splintered and stabbed through my lungs taking my breath away.

This was what it was like to have a broken heart. I always thought it broke quietly, a fissure that slowly cracked apart. I was wrong. It exploded and broke all the other working things in your body.

"Daniel! Dan are you still there?!"

* * *

The day Beth and I had our first daughter was one of the happiest days of my life. It's almost too cliche for a writer to say that, but it's true.

The moment I saw her little face and tiny hands all the pieces of our lives fell into place.

We would get jobs locally and stop traveling, we would buy a bigger house, we would finish building the cottage so we had somewhere to spend the summers where she could swim and play, and we would have more babies. Definitely more babies.

Beth and I sat together watching our girl sleep for hours in the first few days after she was born.

She had Beth's nose and eyes, but she got my mouth. She was perfect.

Our family was perfect.

* * *

"Honey, I really don't want you to go."

"Beth. I have to go."

Beth and I had the same argument every time I left on an assignment. We stood on the dock at our cottage, throwing bread for the geese that hung around our part of the lake. 

"We don't need the money yet."

"Beth, come on. If I want to keep getting jobs from this magazine I have to actually write some articles for them."

Beth dumped her handfuls of bread in the water at our feet. She turned her back on me and walked toward the house.

I ran after her and grabbed her arm harder than I intended.

"Beth!"

She yanked her arm free and rubbed at the place I just grabbed her.

"That's the point Dan! I don't want you to work for that magazine. I don't want you to travel anymore."

She tore at my heart.

"I like it when you're here, at home, with me and the girls. Why can't you just get a job here instead of having to travel all over the world? You're even going to miss Jess' first day of school."

I cringed, remembering my daughter's plea for daddy to walk her to school on her first day.

I loved Beth and my three daughters more than anything, but we were used to having the income from my freelance work. Beth was right of course. I was missing too much of their lives.

We decided to change our lifestyle when we had our first daughter and Beth had done so gladly, but twelve years later, I still never completely gave it up. 

"Ok Beth. Ok. I'll do this last article in Phuket and then I'm done. I will find a local job, and I'll be here. I promise. This is it."

Beth just shook her head and stormed away. I felt broken.

I was left standing on the dock. Alone.

* * *

I sat in the corner with my head in my hands.

I wonder how old I was when I discovered hiding your face didn't mean you were hidden; it just meant you didn't know who was looking at you.

"Dan, I'm really sorry for your loss. You and the girls are welcome to come over to our place whenever you want - to use the pool, or anything."

I looked up and smiled at someone I vaguely recognized. People were horrendous at condolences. I should write a book of condolences to be handed out at funerals. Maybe then people wouldn't say such idiotic things.

"Daniel. How are you holding up?" Thankfully my father was there to rescue me.

"Not good. I'm not good at all."

"Hang in there son, it will get easier."

"How will it get easier Dad? This is my fault, how will I get over this? How will the girls get over this?"

A few people standing close to me looked over, their faces sullen, but curious and maybe a little anxious to see the poor widower crack. My father led me into the kitchen so I could have my breakdown in private. This was a horribly long day and all the pity was finally starting to get to me.

"Explain." My father didn't beat around the bush often, and he was true to form today as well.

There wasn't much to explain. I was surprised he didn't just get it. It was simple. I abandoned her to go to Thailand and she abandoned me while trying to get me back.

She was coming to find me, to apologize, to have a second honeymoon.

A plane ride ruined my life. Ironic.

"I know the exact moment she died dad.

"I was walking down the street in Phuket and it was pouring. I think I saw her plane. I saw it heading to the airport, it had to be hers because it was the exact time her flight would have been landing.

"I saw it and thought ‘I need to catch the first flight home, I need to see my wife', but I had one more interview to do before I could leave.

I was thinking how beautiful it probably was out at the cottage. I was picturing the lake and lying out in the sun with the girls. I was thinking of all the things I would say to Beth once I got back to the hotel and called her to apologize...

Then I got your message and it all ended."

* * *

Today, I stand on the dock of the cottage where we last saw each other a little over a year ago. Where I now live with our children.

The early morning fog is still covering the lake and the sun hasn't raised more than a few feet into the sky. The dawn light is warm, comforting but the air is cold and crisp in my lungs.

Morning is our time. My time.

Here on the dock I can still feel her with me and I find the strength to start my days. Here on the dock I am still with my Beth and we are still carefree.

My three girls come tearing out of the house toward the dock laughing and screaming. They know I spend every morning here with my thoughts. This morning they run to me with fishing rods and cups of worms.

They are my salvation.
Three beautiful reminders.

It has taken me this entire year to recover and I've decided - today I will let her go.

I scoop Jess, my youngest, into my arms and twirl her around, dancing her on the deck where a year ago, I argued with her mother. Haley stands back holding Becca's hand.

They know today is an anniversary and their swollen eyes match my own. I wave them toward me and fold them into my arms. Sanity.

"You girls are the loves of my life, you know that?" I tweak Jess on the nose and she giggles still holding the cup of worms.

My dad strolls down from the cottage, a second fishing rod in his hand. I see this morning his plan is to distract me.

I'm grateful, but today I am done mourning. Today I start celebrating.

I lean down to show Jess how to pull the worm onto the hook. My girls surround me, holding me up with their love. I smile and let Beth go into the foggy morning.



Word count: 1776