“Don’t tell anyone, I’m addicted to their cherry pie myself,” Phil said.
“Mary Lou and I were talking about Sally wanting to know why I took so long to come to therapy.”
“Sally didn’t mean anything by it,” Phil assured her.
“I don’t know that I would ever have found the courage if not for Dr. O’Brien.”
“Over the years,” Phil said, “I’ve come to believe that God’s timing is perfect. You arrived at precisely the time that was right for you. When you made the appointment to see Dr. O’Brien, you were ready.”
“You’re right. The timing was perfect. I’ve struggled not to cry, but seeing others feel free to display their emotions has helped.” When Sherry mentioned the loss of her son in a recent session, Joan hadn’t been able to hold back tears. He’d been in the military and was killed in a training exercise.
“None of us worry about displaying our pain,” Phil said. “We all do at one time or another. Tears, I’ve learned, can be cleansing, a release. For myself, they were the roadway that led to healing.”
Joan briefly lowered her head, as if confessing to a fault. “I didn’t cry for a long time after Jared died. Don’t get me wrong, I wept a river of tears in the months that followed, but not in the beginning.”
Phil held her gaze, his eyes warm and sympathetic. “I believe it, especially when the one we love is gone without warning, in a split second of time, it takes our hearts a while to absorb the shock of it.”
Joan agreed. “For the longest time, I couldn’t accept that he wasn’t at my side the way he had been all the years we were married.”
“That’s understandable, Joan. I think what you experienced is fairly common. I know it was with me, and we aren’t alone. Time and again I’ve heard others in the group say the same thing.”
Joan found his words reassuring.
“Sadly, some of us never find the courage to move forward.”
Joan felt the wisdom of his words. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You so often mention needing to get home because dinner’s on the table, but you haven’t said anything about your wife. Is there a reason she doesn’t attend the group with you? I’d really enjoy meeting her.”
The shocked look that came over him stunned Joan. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“My wife?” he repeated. “I’m not married.”
“You’re not…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Joan didn’t know what to say. “Did your wife die?” He’d never mentioned whom he’d lost, and Joan had been left to speculate.
“It isn’t my wife I’m heading home to see,” Phil explained. “It’s my dad. He lives with me and does all the cooking. Amanda’s mother and I divorced years ago.”
“Amanda?”
“My daughter. She died five years ago in a car crash.”
Chapter 24
“You lost your daughter?”
Phil looked off into the distance as if to say how difficult it was to speak of his daughter’s death even now.
“Oh Phil, I’m so sorry.” Joan couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to lose a child. The very thought of burying Steve or Nick made her stomach hurt.
“I no longer have any contact with Katelyn, Amanda’s mother,” he admitted, and then as if he wanted to change the subject, he explained, “It makes sense that you assumed I was married. After Mom died, Dad was never the same. It wasn’t long after her passing that he retired. He lived alone, and I did as well, so it made sense for us to combine our households. Dad likes to cook, and it gives him purpose besides advising me on the business and handling the bookkeeping. Amanda’s mother and I haven’t spoken in years.”
“Oh.” Joan felt incredibly foolish. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Given the circumstances, it’s understandable. Dad was the one who suggested I get help after I buried Amanda. Losing her broke me, Joan. I was lost in a sea of grief and drowning with every breath I drew.”
Hearing the agony in his voice, Joan reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his. Silently she let him know she understood. She had the strongest desire to hug him and hesitated, thinking how inappropriate it would be to touch someone in such a familiar way, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. She knew this pain, had walked this rut-filled path herself. Following the impulse, she wrapped her arms around his middle and gave him a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you.” He briefly hugged her, and it seemed he had something more he wanted to say but held back.
“Forgive me…I…”
“No, please don’t apologize. I welcomed that hug.” Joan hardly knew what to say, and so she remained silent.
“Like Jared was to you, Amanda was my whole world,” Phil said. “Katelyn and I divorced when Amanda was three. She’d gotten pregnant while we were in college, and we married. It was never a good marriage. Katelyn felt trapped and quickly grew disillusioned with being a wife and mother. She left to find herself and instead found the man she told me was her soulmate. Apparently not, because they divorced sometime later. She granted me full custody of Amanda and moved on, rarely connecting with our daughter, so it was always just the two of us.
“I was her soccer coach, her Sunday school teacher, and her calculus tutor. I stayed up all night with her after she broke her arm on the school grounds.”
Knowing how difficult it was for him to speak of his daughter, Joan briefly closed her eyes, as his pain was clearly visible. “You don’t…”
“No, I want you to know what happened.” Phil appeared to gather some inner strength before he continued. “Amanda was brilliant and graduated from high school as the class valedictorian. I was so proud of her on graduation day. I sat in the audience, and it felt as if the buttons would burst off my shirt. She gave a speech that stirred me and several others to tears.” His voice cracked, and he hesitated before continuing.
“Oh Phil, this is too painful. I’m so sorry.”
“I know.”
This was a phrase Joan had often repeated when friends spoke of their own feelings at Jared’s loss. She didn’t want Phil to explain anything more, seeing how difficult this was for him.
“No, it sometimes helps to talk about it. It reminds me my daughter lived and isn’t forgotten.”
She admired his determination to bare his soul over a loss that had clearly devastated him.
“Amanda, as you can imagine, had the opportunity to attend any university she wanted. After giving it a lot of consideration, she chose the University of Washington, the main campus right here in Seattle. We’d toured Pepperdine, and it was my first choice for her, but the decision was hers. When it came down to it, she wanted to be independent and at the same time close enough to run home with a load of wash if she wanted. It was where her mother and I attended, and while she never said as much, I think that’s the real reason she chose there.”
Joan smiled. So typical of a teenager, wanting to be on their own but close enough to home for when the need arose. And to follow in her father’s footsteps.