The Gravity of Us
Page 51
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She became my strength when I could no longer be brave.
“She’s finally sleeping, though she put up quite the fight.” Lucy’s eyes were heavy, as if she were exhausted but forcing her eyes to stay open. “How are you feeling?” she asked, leaning against my office doorframe.
I’d been sitting at my desk, staring at my blinking cursor for the past hour. I wanted to write, wanted to escape, but for the first time in my life, there were truly no words to be found. She grew closer to me and placed her hands on my shoulders. Her fingers started kneading into my tense shoulder blades, and I welcomed her touch.
“It’s been a long day,” I whispered.
“It’s been a very long day.”
My eyes moved over to the windows, watching the rain falling outside. Sheets of water pounded against the exterior of my home. Professor Oliver would’ve rolled his eyes at the coincidence of rain on the day he passed away. What a cliché.
I shut off my computer.
No words were going to come that night.
“You need to sleep,” Lucy told me. I didn’t even disagree. She reached out for my hands, and I allowed her to take them. She pulled me up and walked me to my room so I could try to shut my eyes for some rest.
“Do you need water? Food? Anything?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.
“There is one thing.”
“Yeah? What can I do for you?” she asked.
“Stay with me. Tonight, I just…” My voice cracked, and I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back the emotion. “I don’t think I can be alone tonight. I know it’s a weird thing to ask, and you are free to go, of course, it’s just…” I took a deep breath and slid my hands into the pockets of my slacks. “I don’t think I can be alone tonight.”
She didn’t say another word. She simply walked over to the bed, turned down the blanket, and lay down. Lucy’s hand patted the spot beside her and I walked over, lying down beside her. It started slow, our fingers moving closer to one another. I shut my eyes and tears started falling down my cheeks. Then, somehow our fingers locked, Lucy’s warmth slowly filling up my cold heart. Then, her body inched closer and closer. My arms somehow found their way around her, and as I lay there holding her close, I allowed sleep to find its way to me.
Oh, how badly I needed someone to stay that night.
I was so thankful it was her.
When the day came for Ollie’s funeral, there were not nearly as many people as there’d been at the last funeral I’d attended; it was nothing like Kent’s service. We stood in an open field, surrounded by nature, in the place where he’d proposed to Mary many moons ago. She said it was the day her life began, and it only seemed right to go back there to absorb that same love she’d felt years ago.
And oh, there was love. So, so much love showed up for Ollie, including former students, colleagues, and friends. Although the space wasn’t packed with reporters, fans, or cameras, it was filled with the only important thing in the world: love.
Everyone made sure to comfort Karla and Mary to the best of their ability, and the two were never alone. As the service went on, there were tears, laughter, and stories filled with light and love.
The perfect tribute to a perfect man.
When the pastor asked if anyone would like to share words, it only took Graham a second to rise from his seat. My eyes locked with him as he handed Talon over to me.
“A eulogy?” I whispered, my heart racing fast. I knew how hard something like this would be for Graham.
“Yes.” He nodded. “It might not be any good.”
I shook my head slowly and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. “It will be perfect.” Each step he took to the podium was slow, controlled. Everything about Graham had always been controlled. He almost always stood tall, never wavering back and forth. As my eyes stayed glued to him, my stomach tightened when I saw him stumble a bit. He grabbed the podium and refocused his stance.
The space was silent and all eyes were on him. I could smell the lilacs and jasmine surrounding us as the wind blew through them. The earth was still wet from all the rain we’d received over the past few days, and whenever the air brushed past, I could almost taste the moisture. My eyes didn’t move from Graham. I studied the man I had learned to quietly love as he prepared to say goodbye to the first man who ever taught me what love was meant to look like.
Graham cleared his throat and loosened his slim black tie. He parted his lips, looking down at his sheets of paper, which were filled with words front and back. Once more, his throat was cleared. Then, he tried to speak. “Professor Oliver was a…” His voice cracked, and he lowered his head. “Professor Oliver…” His hands formed fists on the podium. “This isn’t right. You see, I wrote this long speech about Oliver. I spent hours upon hours crafting it, but let’s be honest, if I turned this paper in to him, he would call it complete shit.” The room filled with laughter. “I’m certain many of the people here have been his students, and one thing we all know is that Professor Oliver was a hard-ass when it came to grading papers. I received my first F on a paper from him, and when I challenged him about it in his office, he looked at me, lowered his voice, and said, ‘Heart.’ I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but he gave me a tiny smile and repeated, ‘Heart.’ I later realized he meant that was what was missing from my paper.
“Before his classes, I had no clue how to put heart into a story, but he took the time to teach me what it looked like—heart, passion, love. He was the greatest teacher of those three subjects.” Graham picked up his pieces of paper and ripped them in half. “And if he were to grade this speech of mine, he’d fail me. My words speak on his achievements in his career. He was an amazing scholar and received numerous awards that recognized his talents, but that’s just fluff.” Graham chuckled, along with other students who’d had Ollie as a professor. “We all know how Oliver hated when people added extra fluff to their papers to reach the required word counts. ‘Add muscle, not fat, students.’ So now, I’ll just add the strongest muscle—I’ll add the heart. I’ll tell you the core of who Professor Oliver was.
“Oliver was a man who loved unapologetically. He loved his wife and his daughter. He loved his work, his students, and their minds. Oliver loved the world. He loved the world’s flaws, he loved the world’s mistakes, he loved the world’s scars. He believed in the beauty of pain and the glory of better tomorrows. He was the definition of love, and he spent his life trying to spread that love to as many people as he could. I remember my sophomore year, I was so mad at him. He gave me my second F, and I was so pissed off. I marched straight to his office, barged in uninvited, and right as I was about to shout at him for this outrageous issue, I paused. There he was, sitting at his desk crying with his face in the palms of his hands.”
“She’s finally sleeping, though she put up quite the fight.” Lucy’s eyes were heavy, as if she were exhausted but forcing her eyes to stay open. “How are you feeling?” she asked, leaning against my office doorframe.
I’d been sitting at my desk, staring at my blinking cursor for the past hour. I wanted to write, wanted to escape, but for the first time in my life, there were truly no words to be found. She grew closer to me and placed her hands on my shoulders. Her fingers started kneading into my tense shoulder blades, and I welcomed her touch.
“It’s been a long day,” I whispered.
“It’s been a very long day.”
My eyes moved over to the windows, watching the rain falling outside. Sheets of water pounded against the exterior of my home. Professor Oliver would’ve rolled his eyes at the coincidence of rain on the day he passed away. What a cliché.
I shut off my computer.
No words were going to come that night.
“You need to sleep,” Lucy told me. I didn’t even disagree. She reached out for my hands, and I allowed her to take them. She pulled me up and walked me to my room so I could try to shut my eyes for some rest.
“Do you need water? Food? Anything?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.
“There is one thing.”
“Yeah? What can I do for you?” she asked.
“Stay with me. Tonight, I just…” My voice cracked, and I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back the emotion. “I don’t think I can be alone tonight. I know it’s a weird thing to ask, and you are free to go, of course, it’s just…” I took a deep breath and slid my hands into the pockets of my slacks. “I don’t think I can be alone tonight.”
She didn’t say another word. She simply walked over to the bed, turned down the blanket, and lay down. Lucy’s hand patted the spot beside her and I walked over, lying down beside her. It started slow, our fingers moving closer to one another. I shut my eyes and tears started falling down my cheeks. Then, somehow our fingers locked, Lucy’s warmth slowly filling up my cold heart. Then, her body inched closer and closer. My arms somehow found their way around her, and as I lay there holding her close, I allowed sleep to find its way to me.
Oh, how badly I needed someone to stay that night.
I was so thankful it was her.
When the day came for Ollie’s funeral, there were not nearly as many people as there’d been at the last funeral I’d attended; it was nothing like Kent’s service. We stood in an open field, surrounded by nature, in the place where he’d proposed to Mary many moons ago. She said it was the day her life began, and it only seemed right to go back there to absorb that same love she’d felt years ago.
And oh, there was love. So, so much love showed up for Ollie, including former students, colleagues, and friends. Although the space wasn’t packed with reporters, fans, or cameras, it was filled with the only important thing in the world: love.
Everyone made sure to comfort Karla and Mary to the best of their ability, and the two were never alone. As the service went on, there were tears, laughter, and stories filled with light and love.
The perfect tribute to a perfect man.
When the pastor asked if anyone would like to share words, it only took Graham a second to rise from his seat. My eyes locked with him as he handed Talon over to me.
“A eulogy?” I whispered, my heart racing fast. I knew how hard something like this would be for Graham.
“Yes.” He nodded. “It might not be any good.”
I shook my head slowly and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. “It will be perfect.” Each step he took to the podium was slow, controlled. Everything about Graham had always been controlled. He almost always stood tall, never wavering back and forth. As my eyes stayed glued to him, my stomach tightened when I saw him stumble a bit. He grabbed the podium and refocused his stance.
The space was silent and all eyes were on him. I could smell the lilacs and jasmine surrounding us as the wind blew through them. The earth was still wet from all the rain we’d received over the past few days, and whenever the air brushed past, I could almost taste the moisture. My eyes didn’t move from Graham. I studied the man I had learned to quietly love as he prepared to say goodbye to the first man who ever taught me what love was meant to look like.
Graham cleared his throat and loosened his slim black tie. He parted his lips, looking down at his sheets of paper, which were filled with words front and back. Once more, his throat was cleared. Then, he tried to speak. “Professor Oliver was a…” His voice cracked, and he lowered his head. “Professor Oliver…” His hands formed fists on the podium. “This isn’t right. You see, I wrote this long speech about Oliver. I spent hours upon hours crafting it, but let’s be honest, if I turned this paper in to him, he would call it complete shit.” The room filled with laughter. “I’m certain many of the people here have been his students, and one thing we all know is that Professor Oliver was a hard-ass when it came to grading papers. I received my first F on a paper from him, and when I challenged him about it in his office, he looked at me, lowered his voice, and said, ‘Heart.’ I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but he gave me a tiny smile and repeated, ‘Heart.’ I later realized he meant that was what was missing from my paper.
“Before his classes, I had no clue how to put heart into a story, but he took the time to teach me what it looked like—heart, passion, love. He was the greatest teacher of those three subjects.” Graham picked up his pieces of paper and ripped them in half. “And if he were to grade this speech of mine, he’d fail me. My words speak on his achievements in his career. He was an amazing scholar and received numerous awards that recognized his talents, but that’s just fluff.” Graham chuckled, along with other students who’d had Ollie as a professor. “We all know how Oliver hated when people added extra fluff to their papers to reach the required word counts. ‘Add muscle, not fat, students.’ So now, I’ll just add the strongest muscle—I’ll add the heart. I’ll tell you the core of who Professor Oliver was.
“Oliver was a man who loved unapologetically. He loved his wife and his daughter. He loved his work, his students, and their minds. Oliver loved the world. He loved the world’s flaws, he loved the world’s mistakes, he loved the world’s scars. He believed in the beauty of pain and the glory of better tomorrows. He was the definition of love, and he spent his life trying to spread that love to as many people as he could. I remember my sophomore year, I was so mad at him. He gave me my second F, and I was so pissed off. I marched straight to his office, barged in uninvited, and right as I was about to shout at him for this outrageous issue, I paused. There he was, sitting at his desk crying with his face in the palms of his hands.”
