Emma's wedding dress

“I hate talking about my mother. Not because she was a bad one just because it frustrates me”

“Why does it frustrate you?”

“There are no words really.” Emma awkwardly turns in her seat. There is so much room for her to move and be comfortable but she is stuck in the corner, feeling rather tight.

“I couldn't fully paint a picture of her, who she was” Emma continues to say.” She was incredible.” She rubs her face, it has a pained expression.” That doesn't even,” she pauses trying to find the words to make Dr. Assange understand,” get across the person she was. Anyways she's dead, why does it matter? I’m not struggling with her life. I’m not even struggling with her death. I’m just struggling with death. It just...it's just so unreal. So hard to understand.”

“Losing someone is never easy and everyone experiences grief differently. Your mother’s life is important Emma, because her life and what it meant to you is why this is so difficult. You would not have a sense of loss if you didn’t know her, if you didn’t love her. Grieve is the natural response to losing something or in your case someone you love. The key is not to ignore it but to experience it…” Dr. Assange was saying but Emma cut him off.

“I would really appreciate it if you could just fix me, fix these feelings. I just don’t want them anymore. It’s your job; you aren’t very good at it clearly.” Her agitation building, it was threatening to make her lose her composure. What little she had left.

The death of her mother had turned this poor little girl’s world upside down and she wasn’t willing to acknowledge it. She cannot possible begin to put all her tiny pieces together, until admits she’s all broken inside.

Their session was over; Dr. Assange put his pen and notepad down and walked over to his desk. “Emma our time is up. I’m going to print you a pamphlet on grief. I would like you to read through it and write down the points you can identify with, point out the stages you feel you've experienced and the stages you haven’t. Next week we can talk about grief and what you've written.”

Dr. Assange knew she would be very displeased. Her distress was growing at an accelerated pace and she just wanted a quick fix. If they didn’t have some sort of breakthrough soon, he would have to seriously consider medication.

Dr. Assange thought about his patients all the time and worried about them more often than not. Since the day he first met Emma, she preoccupied his mind more than his other patients ever did. He worried for her a great deal. He made a mental note to call her father and ask him to be very cautious when dealing with her. He didn’t want to worry him but at this point he felt as though there was other option.

Emma took the pamphlet and smiled at the doctor. She thanked him and assured him that she would do as he asked; she told him she would try harder. This pained Dr. Assange; it wasn't her fault that this was such a difficult time. He was about to tell her but stopped himself. Don’t get too attached, he reminded himself, he would be no good to her if he got too emotionally attached.

On her way out Emma stopped at Lisa, Dr. Assange's sectary’s desk and asked for an envelope. Lisa gave her one. Emma thanked her and left. She walked to the park around the corner. It was 11am, children were at school and adults were at work. Apart for the occasional vagrant the park was deserted. Emma sat on a bench and for a few sweet moments she enjoyed the sunshine. It warmed her up from the inside out. This was the sign she'd been waiting for. Things would be better she told herself. “How could they not be on this fine sunny day” she said it out loud and a vagrant closest to her looked at her as if she had completely lost her mind. She couldn’t blame him, she was all smiles and talking to herself. The thought made her giggle. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this way, the last time she heard her own laugh. For a brief moment the sadness crept in again. Emma stopped it dead in its tracks. There was no going back.

She scratched in her bag searching for a pen. She was certain she would have one. Nothing. No, that can't be right. She emptied the contents of her bag next to her on the bench. “Ah-ha” she cried in victory. It was a purple metallic pen, but it would do the job just fine. Emma took her notebook she normally used to write her shopping list on, ripped out a page and began to write. When she was done she placed the piece of paper and her special necklace in the envelope. With one lick she sealed it and addressed it. She walked back to her car parked just outside Dr. Assange's office. Once she was in her car she took a moment to think where the nearest post office was. It wasn’t too far, a 15 minute drive at most.

At the post office she bought a stamp and gave the envelope to the lady behind the counter.

“How long will it take for it to be delivered?” Emma asked the lady

“Not long at all, tomorrow or Thursday the latest. Is it urgent?”

“No, I was just wondering. Thank you.” Emma replied

From the post office Emma drove straight home. She opened the garage door, drove in and closed it. Once it was shut, she opened her door went in the house. Ran upstairs and changed. She’d left the car on. She ran back downstairs and went back into the garage, closing the door behind her.

Frank had been away on business. He hated leaving Emma at a time like this but he had responsibilities and it was just one night. His flight wasn’t delayed, which is a baldly miracle he thought to himself. He travelled often. He was operating on autopilot. Collect bags. Pay ticket. Walk to long-term parking. Insert ticket into machine and home. When the garage opened, Frank’s heart lifted...Emma's car was there, she was home. He drove in, he was exhausted. He turned his car off got out and as he was about to take his bag out of the backseat he noticed Emma in her car.

“Hey Em, where are you off to? I thought we could have a nice evening you and me.”

 He walked over to see his daughter, his beautiful baby girl.

“Em...Emma...EMMA!”

Nothing. No response. Emma was gone.

It wasn’t even a month and Frank was planning another funeral. All these people here, trying to comfort him. He wished they would all disappear. Their words of comfort were insulting to him. Did they honestly think their words would make things better? Fuck them. Fuck them and their meaningless words.

Frank was relieved when the doorbell rang, even if for just a moment he could get away. It was just the mailman. He took his mail and walked into the kitchen. The usual stuff. He scanned through them anyways, just for the time alone. Frank froze. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. It couldn’t be. But he was one hundred percent sure it was Emma’s handwriting. He couldn’t read it. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, she doesn’t get this closure. He wouldn’t let her rest in peace. He left the letter with the others on the kitchen counter.

After Emma’s funeral Frank was back at square one. Left with his messy emotions and this time he was alone. No one who understood him. His family, his true loved ones had abandoned him. He was still so angry at Emma but he was even more desperate for a piece of her. He walked into the kitchen, picked up the envelope. It was exactly where he left it.

He opened it. Come on Frank, he told himself. You can do this; it’s just a letter …just a letter.

There was something else in the envelope. In his rage, Frank hadn’t noticed it before. It was Tina’s necklace. The one he gave Emma shortly after Tina’s funeral almost a month ago.

Frank unfolded the letter and began to read it.

Daddy

Here’s our necklace, I want you to have it and I’m sure mommy won’t mind. I’m sorry I hurt you. I can’t anymore. I am so tired. I'm too tired to try. One day I hope you forgive me. I need my mum; she is so good with these things. Now she can take care of me and you don’t have to worry. There isn’t really a choice here. Once I decided, I was happy again, I’m laughing...it will be over soon and I’m not scared. I look forward to it. I don’t have anything special to say that will make you feel better when you get this, but please know that I considered not...because of you, daddy. Because I love you! I left all my love behind for you, every single bit of it.

I know you will never get to walk me down the aisle. But at least you got to see me in her wedding dress, so now you can imagine it.

Always yours

Em.