I had Jayna cremated, just as she wished. I had her ashes separated into six little bags, and three necklaces. The six bags were to be spread the way Jayna had listed; north, east, south, west, smoked, and grown with marijuana. The three necklaces were custom made by someone Chloe and Jayna both knew. They were silver sun charms about the size of a penny, with Jayna's ashes placed inside a small capsule in the middle of the sun. Instead of buying an urn, I bought a beautiful, little, glass box. The glass on the box was stained purple and encased in silver. It looked like a jewelry box Jayna would have approved.
Instead of sending invites for a funeral, I sent invites to celebrate Jayna's life, just as she had wanted. No one was to wear black nor were they to cry unless it was from laughing, is what the invites read. I was on the right track. I had her ashes ready for what she intended and I was going to throw her party just as she wanted. Moving forward. One step at a time... Yet, even being on the right track didn't feel right. Nothing felt right anymore.
The party was a huge fail. People were too sad to be joyful. It all became a big blur. People embraced me and apologized, people whispered pity and sympathy for me and Grace, and I don't think there was one dry eye during the whole "party." I found a bottle of whiskey and slipped off into the bedroom and locked the door.
I knew Grace was in good hands, between Chloe and my mother. I, on the other hand, couldn't pull myself together to even hold Grace. I felt guilty and soon the whiskey was going down like water until eventually the big blur went blank. I am not sure how long the party lasted, nor how long I slept. I was only sure of one thing, I wanted to be numbed.
The next few weeks would be a lot of paperwork and phone calls. Things I knew that needed to be addressed and done to tie up Jayna's death. The man who had hit Jayna was found at fault and would also be serving time. He wasn't drunk, he just wasn't paying attention. Although I was angry, I barely had the energy to act on my anger or even think to act against the man who would have to live with that for the rest of his life, just as I would.
The insurance company of the man who hit Jayna's car, had made sure I and Grace received gracious settlements. Grace's portion was placed in a savings account that she could cash out when she turned eighteen. Jayna also had life insurance. Thank the good Lord, because I knew it would be awhile before I could return back to work.
When I had went in to talk to Principal Harris, he was fully understanding and didn't expect for me to come back to work anytime soon. He told me my job would be intact when I decided to return. He told me to take care of my little girl, and that his family and him were praying for us.
I thanked him, and then he said, "Caleb, time heals all wounds."
I didn't say another word, I shook my head and made my exit. Time heals all wounds. Does it? It had only been a couple weeks, and I didn't foresee the pain letting up, especially knowing I would never see her again. Whoever said "time heals all wounds," must had never lost a piece of their being. Time will heal physical wounds, but does it ever really heal emotional wounds? How long was I allowed to mourn my wife? Would there come a time I would just have to get over it? Or would I ever truly get over it?
My mother had agreed to stay with me and help with Grace. She was allowed to take personal time from her job, due to a family emergency. I don't know what I would have done without my mother. Had it not been for her, I am not sure Grace would have been fully attended to. Minutes had became hours, hours became days, and soon days had became months, and all that stayed on my mind was my sweet wife. Come to think of it, I am sure a day didn't go by without me crying. I tried to sleep it away, but sleeping only numbs you until you awake and realize the reality of that piercing pain still dwells deep. Eventually I gave up hope that the hurt would ever truly go away.
