“How can you be so selfish putting us—putting the Hankses through this. Mom and Dad need their daughter, I need my sister, and Haylee needs her best friend. I know you are in a dark place, but for the love of God, Danielle, come home.” – Zach
I can’t imagine the pain I continue to put my family through by staying away. It’s been six months, and the calls and texts still come through. I finally texted Mom back, letting her know that I was alive, but that I needed to do this, that she shouldn’t worry about me, and that I was fine. Fine. There is that word, a word that women have been using since the beginning of time to falsely describe how they are feeling. No one is ever fine; they can always be better if they choose to use the word fine. I know she will continue to worry, though, that I am okay and wondering where I have found myself these days. I told her I was alive, but most days I’m not sure that I really feel that way. I died the same night Emmett did if I’m being honest…one year ago today to be exact.
One year of pain.
One year of anger.
One year of what-ifs.
One year of replaying his last voicemail just to hear his voice.
One year of remembering what was, not what is.
One year of asking why.
One year of moments never getting to share.
I’m sitting on a swing in a small town in North Carolina called Surf City. The sun is rising, which always makes me think of Emmett, not that every other part of the day he isn’t on mind. I’m sure my family and the Hankses will be headed to the cemetery today. I thought about going back, but then the reality of today sets in. How have we survived a year already?
I look out over the ocean, happy that even though it’s December, it is still fairly warm. I have only a light hoodie and a pair of capris. This weather is definitely not the weather I am used to. The ocean reminds me just how small we are in this world, yet the pain we deal with is so much greater. My world crumbled, and I’m just not ready to accept a life without Emmett Hanks in it. Will I ever be ready?
I feel like the number of tears I’ve cried could fill this ocean and still drown us all. That’s how it feels—like I’m drowning. What I am feeling changes on a daily basis. Even if it is excruciating pain that overtakes my mind and body, it is still something which is more than I can say for how I’ve been living the past year. Sitting on this playground swing, it reminds me of the front porch swing we used to hang out on at my parents’ house. I look over at the empty one next to me and wonder what life would be for us now had the accident not have happened. Emmett would be in his second year of college and I in my first, living together at the apartment, or maybe we would have ended up getting our own place. Would there finally be a ring on my finger with the promise of forever?
I reach over to the empty swing, wishing to the gods above that they would send Emmett back to me, just for five more minutes. Fuck, who am I kidding—if they could give me five more minutes, then why not ten? Fifteen? One day? Why stop there—why couldn’t they give me forever back?
I think back to the conversation we had at my parents’ house before he left for college, when I joked that we would have to bottle up his kisses in a jar for later. Oh how I would give anything and everything to have that jar now.
My phone vibrates and even though I know it’s a bad idea, I look at the incoming text message.
ZACH: I told myself I wasn’t going to do this today, but here I am reaching out knowing you will ignore this. Dani, I know you are hurting today and every day for the past year, but come the fuck home.
ZACH: Whatever you are facing and battling, we can do it together. We are headed to the cemetery around 10, and then Mom is having lunch at the house. I don’t know where you are, but please come home. If not for you, then for me, for Haylee, for mom and dad. We all need you for fuck’s sake. I miss him too you know.
ZACH: Please just answer me. I’m going out of my mind that you are out there somewhere by yourself and you won’t let me help you. I’m your big brother and I’m supposed to protect you from all things big and bad, and I couldn’t protect you from this, so I feel as though I’ve failed you. D, I didn’t want to do all of this over text, but I know that you wouldn’t answer if I called you, and I would be limited on what I could say via voicemail.
ZACH: I have to have faith that you are actually reading these texts and not just ignoring them. I need you today and every day, Danielle. Please, I’m begging you. I love you, sis.
I drop the phone in the sand as my tears continue to fall. My grief overtakes me the same way a Categor
y 5 hurricane would wipe out this area. The pain tears through me as if it just happened. Will it always feel like this?
I open the reply message on my brother’s text message and almost type a response. In my head I see it perfectly…
ME (DRAFT): I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left the way I did. I’m sorry I let you all down. I’m sorry he’s gone. I’m sorry for so many things out of my control. I knew that I would be alone the rest of my life, and everyone told me I needed to begin to move on with life, so that’s what I attempted to do. I moved on from my old life, a life with daily reminders of what I had lost. I know you all meant for me to move on from Em, but I’m just not ready to let him go. No matter what I did, I still felt empty. The pain never went away no matter what I tried. I know you all think I’m crazy, and yes, maybe I am, but I needed to do this. Everything always was so easy with Emmett. Even if it was something I was doing without him, life was easy. I felt…I feel that I need to relearn how to do everything including how to breathe. I need you so bad, Zach, to help me. Every day I wake up feeling like I can’t breathe, that I’m drowning. I want to wake up and this year was all a lie, a bad dream, and I wake up in Emmett’s arms. Please help me. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t know how to live in a world without him? I want to come home. I am too far away to meet you there at 10, but I will be there…
I read and reread my words over and over, and my thumb hovers over the Send button. I am so close to hitting it, but instead my thumb moves to the Delete button and I hold it until the entire response is gone. I want to come home…but I want Emmett back, and well, we don’t always get what we want. I close my phone and place it back in my pocket.
After the sun has fully risen, I stand and walk down to the shore and breathe in and out, imagining Emmett’s arms around me giving me the strength to make it through the day, through tomorrow, through the rest of my life.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
I pull my phone back out and grab the headphones from my hoodie pocket and plug the cord in. Recently I discovered a new song by Michael Schulte, and it’s been playing on repeat. I shuffle through the songs and press Play on “You Said You’d Grow Old With Me.” I hit the Repeat button and put the earbuds in my ears. Blocking out the world, blocking out the reality, I sit down in the sand and pull my knees to my chest and play this song and cry. I cry for the past and the memories, I cry for everything we’ve been though and have yet to go through, I cry for all the plans that will never happen, a love cut short, a life ended too soon. I cry and I pray for strength to be able to get by. My silent tears continue to fall against the sounds of the ocean. I cry for the thoughts I want to turn off, and I cry for the life I hope one day that I will be able to have—one that includes being able to see my family again. I pray that that day happens, although prayers these days don’t really go answered much, so I won’t hold my breath.
I sit here for hours, and when I next look at my phone, it says it’s 10:00 a.m. I picture my family and the Hankses at Emmett’s grave, hovering and seeking comfort within each other. I imagine them telling stories of Emmett, maybe from when he was younger as a wild, rambunctious kid always getting into trouble with Zach, or maybe from when he was protecting me. Maybe a story from his lacrosse days when we thought he might want to continue professionally, but that wasn’t where his heart lay—his heart was with me. I think of the funny and happy moments of Em’s life, but with that brings the sad ones.
I think about calling Zach to tell him I’m okay, but I change my mind. It’s better this way, better for them. They need to move on from not only Emmett, but me too.
Three years later…