their homes without looking back.
* * *
Jenny refused to give in to the grief consuming her. She had a myriad of things to do to honor her love before he could rest in peace. Family and friends were counting on her to organize this last farewell and she would not disappoint them. Mourning was a luxury she’d indulge in later.
After creating a detailed to-do list, Jenny made all the funeral arrangements. She’d swallowed her pride enough to consult with Judith to see if Gabe had any favorite hymns or bible readings—she’d wanted everything to be perfect for him this one last time—but the rest of it she did alone.
She agonized over the difficult decisions, but forced herself to make them. She picked out his coffin, found a distinguished picture for his mass cards, ordered two limos for the family’s use during the funeral procession, and decided to have the brunch afterward at the Hunt Club. She didn’t want hordes of people invading their home.
She spent at least fifteen minutes lingering in Gabe’s closet, swamped with beloved smells and memories, before she was able to pick out his favorite suit, dress shirt and tie to be laid out in. Since being a doctor was such a huge part of who he was and since he’d been wearing it the first time they’d met, she considered going to the office to get his lab coat, but she allowed tradition to prevail and chose a gray wool suit coat that complimented the gray at his temples. Gabe had been a wonderful man—so much more than just a doctor.
Hot, wet tears ran in long rivulets down her cheeks as Jenny typed Gabe’s obituary. Clutching his gold watch, she stroked it like a talisman—as if rubbing the metal would bring back memories of Gabe’s arms wrapped around her. She went through a whole box of Kleenex and her gritty eyes burned before she finished. Writing was her God-given talent. She spent hours choosing the exact right words, pouring her heart and soul into the piece, determined to pay this last tribute to her love.
But most importantly, Jenny initiated the fund for the clinic in Gabe’s name. She certainly didn’t want a profusion of flowers at the funeral home and house to deal with, so in his obituary, she’d asked people to send donations to the Gabe Harrison fund for the Donnatelli clinic where he’d volunteered. Jenny was certain Gianna, the woman whose family had founded and ran the clinic, would find an appropriate use for the money as a memorial to Gabe. He would’ve loved that.
* * *
Weeks later, Jenny pulled into a tight ball under the down comforter, trying to warm the coldness deep within her. She pulled Gabe’s pillow closer, deeply inhaling his scent. Why hadn’t the car hit them both? She sobbed. Going on without Gabe and their baby was doubly intolerable. She just couldn’t do it. She didn’t even want to try. Life before Gabe had been challenging, but nothing compared to this.
Her existence felt like a big, empty cavity that echoed her loneliness. Exhausted by life at twenty-eight. If this was growing up, it stunk. She reached for a Kleenex, blew her nose, and threw it on the floor to join a dozen more. If the rest of her life was to be filled with heartache, what was the point?
She sighed deeply. Ritz nudged her arm with a cold wet nose. She heaved her sore body out of bed. Looking in the mirror, the gaunt woman with stringy, straggly hair staring back was a stranger. For once she looked her age—older even. Gabe would’ve allowed her time to grieve, but her weeks spent wallowing in self-pity would have exhausted even his patience. What should she be doing?
Jenny stripped off her smelly nightshirt on the way to the shower and then detoured into the closet. She ran a loving hand over Gabe’s suits, shirts, and pants. When she came to his maroon robe, she pulled it from the hanger and crushed it to her. Rubbing her cheek against the terry material, she inhaled his scent, still strong. She swung the robe around
* * *
Jenny refused to give in to the grief consuming her. She had a myriad of things to do to honor her love before he could rest in peace. Family and friends were counting on her to organize this last farewell and she would not disappoint them. Mourning was a luxury she’d indulge in later.
After creating a detailed to-do list, Jenny made all the funeral arrangements. She’d swallowed her pride enough to consult with Judith to see if Gabe had any favorite hymns or bible readings—she’d wanted everything to be perfect for him this one last time—but the rest of it she did alone.
She agonized over the difficult decisions, but forced herself to make them. She picked out his coffin, found a distinguished picture for his mass cards, ordered two limos for the family’s use during the funeral procession, and decided to have the brunch afterward at the Hunt Club. She didn’t want hordes of people invading their home.
She spent at least fifteen minutes lingering in Gabe’s closet, swamped with beloved smells and memories, before she was able to pick out his favorite suit, dress shirt and tie to be laid out in. Since being a doctor was such a huge part of who he was and since he’d been wearing it the first time they’d met, she considered going to the office to get his lab coat, but she allowed tradition to prevail and chose a gray wool suit coat that complimented the gray at his temples. Gabe had been a wonderful man—so much more than just a doctor.
Hot, wet tears ran in long rivulets down her cheeks as Jenny typed Gabe’s obituary. Clutching his gold watch, she stroked it like a talisman—as if rubbing the metal would bring back memories of Gabe’s arms wrapped around her. She went through a whole box of Kleenex and her gritty eyes burned before she finished. Writing was her God-given talent. She spent hours choosing the exact right words, pouring her heart and soul into the piece, determined to pay this last tribute to her love.
But most importantly, Jenny initiated the fund for the clinic in Gabe’s name. She certainly didn’t want a profusion of flowers at the funeral home and house to deal with, so in his obituary, she’d asked people to send donations to the Gabe Harrison fund for the Donnatelli clinic where he’d volunteered. Jenny was certain Gianna, the woman whose family had founded and ran the clinic, would find an appropriate use for the money as a memorial to Gabe. He would’ve loved that.
* * *
Weeks later, Jenny pulled into a tight ball under the down comforter, trying to warm the coldness deep within her. She pulled Gabe’s pillow closer, deeply inhaling his scent. Why hadn’t the car hit them both? She sobbed. Going on without Gabe and their baby was doubly intolerable. She just couldn’t do it. She didn’t even want to try. Life before Gabe had been challenging, but nothing compared to this.
Her existence felt like a big, empty cavity that echoed her loneliness. Exhausted by life at twenty-eight. If this was growing up, it stunk. She reached for a Kleenex, blew her nose, and threw it on the floor to join a dozen more. If the rest of her life was to be filled with heartache, what was the point?
She sighed deeply. Ritz nudged her arm with a cold wet nose. She heaved her sore body out of bed. Looking in the mirror, the gaunt woman with stringy, straggly hair staring back was a stranger. For once she looked her age—older even. Gabe would’ve allowed her time to grieve, but her weeks spent wallowing in self-pity would have exhausted even his patience. What should she be doing?
Jenny stripped off her smelly nightshirt on the way to the shower and then detoured into the closet. She ran a loving hand over Gabe’s suits, shirts, and pants. When she came to his maroon robe, she pulled it from the hanger and crushed it to her. Rubbing her cheek against the terry material, she inhaled his scent, still strong. She swung the robe around
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