On The Other Side

Chapter Three: The After

I fear I'll be living in "The After" forever. Every day after Will's death almost isn't worth living, then I feel Aggie's small hand slip into mine, my unborn child stir in my belly, and I know I have to carry on, to live. Not just survive.

Watching Will's sheet-wrapped body slip into the seemingly bottomless ocean is something I'll never forget. I can't help the sobs that escape my body as he disappears from me forever. Little Aggie buries her tear-soaked face into the faded folds of my dress, her body shuddering in despair, her daidí gone, snatched out of her life so swiftly.

That night, as we lay together on the cot, our arms twined around each other in comfort, in grief, Aggie presses her lips to my ear, whispering, "I'm so scared, please don't leave me, mamaí." Her tears are hot on my skin, her sobs shaking her whole body.

I have no comfort in me to give my iníon, all I do is pull her close, crying along with her, my tears as scorching as Aggie's, seeming to scald my cheeks. I hear the other passengers moving about, talking in quiet tones, I hear small ones crying, hear the rats scurrying along the walls. But Aggie and I stay wrapped together in our own little world of despair. Because that's all I feel, despair.

The light in Aggie's eyes remains dim the rest of the voyage. It's as if the world is passing us by, we see it passing, but don't have the energy to join in. I know I need to shake this shroud off, to be there for Aggie, my unborn child, but it's as if I'm not in control of my own body. I tell myself to get out of bed, tell my legs to get moving, but I all I can do is lie there.

Five days after Will's death, I hear talk that we'll be in America, docking in New York harbor by morning. My heart feels a tug at this, a tug of hope. Aggie jumps off the cot, packing her meager belongings into her satchel, which takes only a moment, we have so little. "I'll take care of you mamaí, when we get to America,l. I promised daidí I would look after you." She smiles brightly, tugging her sweater over her shoulders, standing up tall, trying to look older than her six years.

I pull her too skinny body against mine, brush her wiry red hair off her forehead. "Mo grá, we'll take care of each other, you and I, we're a foireann, a team." I press a hand to my belly. "And when this babe is born, we'll teach it everything we know, how to be strong, to be brave, it'll be a good life, Aggie, just like your daidí would have wanted."

The next morning, Aggie and I make sure we're on the deck of the ship as we make our way into New York harbor. The sun breaks through the clouds, the fog lifting. It's then we see a magnificent sight.

"It's the lady, mamaí, it's the lady daidí told us about." Aggie's jumping up and down in excitement, pointing at the beautiful statue, Lady Liberty. Her stunning oxidized coloring makes a striking statement against the skyline, her torch held high, lighting and leading the way for the lost, the weary. I can't help the tears that fall, seeing her, so big, so strong, is awe inspiring.

"Mamaí," Aggie tugs my dress, "why does the Lady have a broken chain around her feet?"

I smile, shading my eyes from the brilliant morning sun, I can't take my eyes from this welcoming sight. "It means freedom, ceann beag." I lift her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her nose. "Freedom to create our own life, to work hard. Freedom to dream."

Aggie's smile is as bright as the sun, beaming in happiness. "Daidí told me I could even be a doctor in America, or a teacher, whatever I wanted."

"Yes, m'iníon, he was right, you can dream big here."

It takes quite a while for us to finally disembark the ship. By the time Aggie and I step onto American soil it's well past noon, the sun high and hot in the sky. We're tired, hungry, and quit honestly, deep fear is filling my stomach, causing me to feel a wee nauseous. I have the tenement housing paperwork from Will, but I wonder if it matters that it's just Aggie and me now.