Page 53 of Letting Go at 40

Chapter 19

2 Years Ago

July

Ben’s First Anniversary

[Anna]

I don’t like to visit the cemetery.

In my head, I can’t reconcile that Ben is there beside his father, Frank, who passed years ago from a heart attack. I don’t like to look at the empty space next to Ben and the similarly empty plot on the other side of his father. Those areas are allocated for Ben’s mother, Ruth, and me.

According to Ruth, we have a lot of living left to do before we join our men.

In the quiet of an evening, on the edge of the shore is where I prefer to seek him. In mid-July, the days are long, and the sun hangs in the sky, taking its sweet time to descend and close out another day. Another day without Ben.

A full year has passed.

In so many ways, Ben has been gone longer than the past three-hundred and sixty-five days. He wasn’t the same man I fell in love with, or married, or shared my children by the time cancer claimed him. They say love shifts over the years. It changes and matures. Married couples adapt to new situations as they age together. Ben would have called bullshit. He would say the best stuff is what’s in between the crust. The ooey-gooey goodness like the crème-filling of an Oreo or the warm, melty apples in a pie.

He also would have called me out for sitting here, feeling sorry for myself. He’d want me to enjoy all the cookies of life, not wallow in a pint of vanilla ice cream. And I wasn’t even near the prime of my life when his life was cut short.

As the sun dips, I sit on an Adirondack chair on the beach, rubbing a heart-shaped rock between my fingers. The soothing talisman that will forever remind me of Ben. At the start of August, the guys will gather as they promised Ben. They will reunite as more than business partners but a family of friends, commemorating their best friend and their shared history. I’ll need to mentally prepare myself for the shenanigans although the only one staying at the house for two weeks is Mason.

We still talk every few days. We never mention what happened the night before my birthday. Or how I officially graduated to the I-own-a-vibrator club. Heat flamed my face when I finally opened the little pink package from Mason. But I put his gift to good use after his innocent kiss charged through my body. He was one-hundred-percent correct. I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t affecting me because every time I touched myself, I thought of him. What he said. How he said it. The compliments. The encouragement. My imagination was no substitute for the reality of how he might feel but I justified my actions as everything was all in my head.

My imagination.

For the moment.

I didn’t intend to act on anything with Mason while he might be the best person to discuss sex with. He had tons of experience. He’d also be a good person to discuss dating but that was the furthest thing from my mind tonight.

As I sit staring at the sun, spreading its warm glow while it lowers in the sky, I try to quiet my mind and bring my thoughts to Ben.

How am I doing? How badly am I fucking up?

Things just aren’t the same without the balance of us as parents to our children. Then again, I have several single parent friends and they rock parenting. For my children, I put on a brave smile every morning and move through every day. They are my daily joy.

My mind drifts to the near future. Calvin will be headed to college. Bryce has his driver’s license. Mila is changing into a young woman. A snapshot of the years flip through my mind until something catches the corner of my eye.

A tall, lone figure with slicked back hair that curls at his nape, crosses the sand. Dressed in khaki shorts slung low on his hips, and a faded concert T-shirt, he approaches me with his head bowed, face aimed at his bare feet in the sand.

“Mason?” I whisper into the wind.

As if he heard me, his head lifts. His gaze locks on me as he nears the set of wooden chairs.

“Is this seat taken?” He teasingly points at the seat beside me and then plops down before I answer.

“What are you doing here?” The question isn’t accusation but wonder. Mason comes and goes from Lakeside, popping into baseball and softball games, or having dinner with the guys, but he doesn’t randomly show at the house.

“I knew you might be here.” He leans back in the chair and faces the water. The setting sun illuminates his strong features. His sharp nose. His pouty lips. The perfection of scruff on his jaw.

He slowly turns to me, eyes searching. “You doing okay today?”

I nod and glance away, chastising myself for admiring his features on today of all days.

Today marks one-year since my life changed irrevocably.