the week following Mom’s death, even stepping in to help Mark finalize last-minute funeral arrangements when I find myself unable to stitch two coherent thoughts together. It’s hard to think, let alone focus.
Thankfully, I have Mark. He’s been amazing, keeping himself together much better than me. He steps in to help with all the things which must go on as we approach harvest season. If we fail to get these grapes off the vine, and processed into wine, it truly is the end.
Fortunately, Mom planned everything ahead of time, and there’s not much to do. The day we bury Mom, the sun shines overhead, slanting a ray of sunshine on her grave. With misty eyes, I toss the first soil on top of her casket and choke back tears. Once again, Brody stands beside me, and the white dove returns. After everyone leaves, giving me time to say farewell to Mom for the last time, the dove lands beside her grave. It stares and me and coos, then flies away.
With no idea if it’s the same dove from the day Mom passed, I choose to believe it is. I take it as a sign she’s looking down on me, and some of the tightness in my chest eases. Not superstitious by nature, I do believe this is a sign, and I know I will be okay.
As for Brody, his entire family watches over me. Brody stays with me every night, holding me while we sleep. When he’s forced to go into the city for work, Cage drops by.
He’s rebranding Atwood Estates and makes me take him all over the property while he snaps photos of the most random things. He’s easy-going, jokes a lot, and keeps me smiling until Brody returns.
The drive in and out of the city must be killing Brody. The one time I brought up how unnecessary it was for him to make the long commute, he growled like a feral animal and told me I was his to take care of now. I stopped asking after that, selfishly enjoying this new, protective side of Brody.
Abbie basically takes over my kitchen, making sure Mark and I have home-baked meals each night and every morning. At lunch, she brings Mark’s lunch to his office and sits with me in the kitchen, where we talk about anything and everything.
And then there’s Evie, a woman with whom I share far too much, although I didn’t learn of this until after the funeral. We sit together in my kitchen, swapping stories about our families. Evie lost her family—mother, father, brother, and fiancé—in a tragic plane crash on the day of what was supposed to be her wedding. That tragedy eventually brought her out to California and wine country. In her grief, she turned inward, learning to take care of herself in the most basic of ways—she became a solo backpacker.
“I admire your strength.” I take a sip of wine.
We’ve settled into a routine and start drinking once the hands of the clock pass noon. Lunchtime is quickly becoming a girls-only event. Abbie chased Brody and his brothers out of my kitchen the day after the funeral, and it’s just been the three of us since.
“I don’t know about strength.” Evie gives her empty glass a wiggle, signifying she needs a refill. Abbie tops off all our glasses and opens a second bottle of wine. “I faced some hard truths about who I was and who I wanted to be.”
“But you literally left everything behind and set out across the country on a solo backpacking adventure. You reinvented yourself. I don’t think I’d have the strength.” I make a fist. “The grit to do what you did.”
Yesterday, Evie told me how she met Asher and how that happened in the middle of a firestorm. I’m still gobsmacked by what she endured. My issues seem more surmountable, seeing how she turned her life around.
And she’s happy. Gloriously happy.
With Asher.
That gives me hope.
There are still times I tear up out of the blue. It can be anything. The scent of Mom’s favorite rose bush. Her meticulous handwriting on a pad of paper. The half-open bottle of orange juice in the fridge.
Each day is easier, but also more challenging.
“I did, and I wound up here.” Evie places her hand over mine. “To be honest, you’re stronger than you know. Life is nothing but a string of adversities tripping us up. You’re smart. You know what you want, and one day you’re going to wake up