me.
I lie there quietly for a long time, listening to her even breaths and feeling her heart beat against mine.
By the time I fall asleep, the pillow below my cheek is soaked with my tears.
I’m lying in our grassy backyard. Both of my arms are pillows for my girl and my beauty. Gray is lying down on the other side of Molly. All four of us are staring up at the blue sky with thick pillowy clouds.
Lifting my forearm without disturbing Gemma’s head, I point to one of the clouds. “What about that one?”
Gemma hums for a moment before she says, “Giraffe.”
“Nah. It’s an elephant,” Gray chimes in.
“It’s totally a giraffe,” she argues.
“Okay.” I point to another fluffy cloud. “What about that one?”
We all look at the weird shaped cloud for a moment, unable to decide what it looks like.
“The sssplatter of puddinnng I droppeddd on the floooor last summmer,” Molly finally suggests.
Gemma giggles, and I chuckle along with her. On the other side of Molly, Gray snorts.
“Or it could be the ball of ice cream that Gray dropped on his shirt a few months ago,” I insert, stretching my arm out to ruffle his hair.
“Nope. It’s the birthday cake Gemma threw at me when I snuck behind her that one birthday.”
We all laugh as we remember Gemma’s reaction when Gray scared the shit out of her. Her cake went flying over her head, and to Gray’s utter disappointment, landed smack dab on top of his head. Not how he pictured that scenario would turn out, I’m sure.
“You really scared me. I think I peed my pants a little.”
Gray pelts out a belly laugh, and we all join in. It’s moments like these I’ll miss the most. The four of us, as a family, enjoying the fresh breeze, laughing, and just being together. I’ll still have Gray and Gemma, but our lives will never be the same without Molly with us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MOLLY
This will be my last entry. My fingers pain me too much to move, let alone hold a pen for fifteen minutes. I spent so much of my life writing in these things, it’s going to be so strange to no longer do so. They’ve been my outlet, my confidante. Of course, I have Charles, who has always been a good listener, but there are times I need to write my private thoughts down. A husband can’t know everything that goes through his wife’s head.
I’m not under the illusion that these journals will never be read by anyone else after I’m long gone. My hope is that whoever does read them gets joy from it. That they’ll see the beautiful life I’ve led with the most wonderful husband and children.
Charles has been so good to me. He’s been my best friend, my lover, my husband, and gave me so many beautiful things throughout our lives together. There’s not one thing I would change. Not a single thing. Our life wasn’t perfect, but that’s what made it perfect to me.
We’re both getting old, and I know our time is near. I don’t fear death. What I fear is Charles dying before me. What would I do without him by my side? I also fear dying before him because I know he feels the same. No matter which of us goes first, I know we’ll be together again someday. I feel that all the way down to my soul. Our love story isn’t over. It’ll never be over.
I mentioned that to him the other day, and he looked me square in the eye and said that our love was too powerful and timeless to simply cease to exist after our bodies wither away to dust. We may not know who we are to each other, but we’ll be together again.
Until then, I’ll have my beautiful grandson, Jesse, put this journal in the attic with the others. Who knows, maybe in another life I’ll find them and get to experience my and Charles’ love story again….
I sniff back the tears clogging my nose, both immensely sad that was the last entry, but also happy at the contents. It was so beautiful and uplifting and the perfect way to end her final journal. Her first entry was about Charles, and so was her last.
My thoughts move to her last sentence about her finding the journals again. The thought still throws me for a loop, but what if my soul really was Clara’s and Lincoln’s was Charles’? She never gave her reason why she