Laura

She knew him better than any of us. They were together for almost three years and lived together for over a year. They would have gotten married but knew they didn't have much time. He was dying. They tried to work around that. They didn't dwell on it. They tried to enjoy each moment, each day but it was there in the room with them always. Daring them to live life with out the knowledge of the inevitable in control. They were happy. They were in love.

I have always wanted to talk to her about him. What they went through as a couple, how she dealt with it as a partner, lover. How had he told her about his illness? He had been fighting this battle since he was 18. She had to have a lot of courage and love to go into this new relationship knowing what pain and hardship most likely was ahead of them. When he was very sick, toward the end, he refused to eat, he didn't have the energy and felt sick all the time. She threatened to leave him if he wouldn't eat. She didn't want to leave him but she was desperate. She knew she was going to lose him. But not like this, not by giving up. So she threatened the one thing she could, to take away her love, hoping it would jump start him. Rattle him enough to try. She broke his heart.

I remember when he came tell my mom about it. He was 6'2" my mom 5'1" but she had her arms wrapped around him cradling him to her chest. He was heartbroken, crying on her shoulder because Laura was going to leave him and he was going to die alone. He loved her more than she would ever know. I don't know what my mother told him, but she always knew the right words. She held his head against her shoulder and rocked him slowly, stroking his head whispering what he needed to hear.

Laura did not leave him. Finally it was he that did the leaving.

They were in class together at college. She said she couldn't help but notice this tall skinny guy with a red beard that kept moving his chair closer to hers. He, like most males of the ripe old age of 20, admired tall, leggy blondes as the ideal woman. Then came Laura. She was small and dark and fit neatly under his arm. She was smart and funny and one of the most genuine people I have ever met. I remember the first present she gave him for his birthday was an antique salt shaker in the shape of a rooster with a body of cut glass and its head made of silver. I have that now and think of her whenever I see it.

I have always wanted to ask her what he was like as an adult. What things was he passionate about? Was he scared? What did they talk about? How did they talk about the future knowing there wasn't going to be a long term one? What were his dreams? Was he angry that he wasn't going to get to fulfill them? What did he feel about leaving us all behind? What did he believe came next.? Was he really as strong as we all thought he was? These were all questions we never asked. There was just no way to get those words to fit in our mouths. We tried to visualize the cure, the return of health. We wanted to believe that this treatment would work. This medication would knock the cancer on it's ass. We couldn't bring ourselves to acknowledge that this was a battle we could not fight for him.This was not a battle he was going to win.

I knew him so little as a person, not just my brother, before he died We hadn't reached the stage yet when we knew each other outside that sibling bond, as people whole and unto ourselves. He moved out when I was 15. Then I was 17, he was 23 at that age the gap seemed huge. He was an adult, facing death. I was a scared kid facing his death. What could I possibly say to him? We talked about the daily things that made up our life, school, work, movies, etc. but never about his illness and all that entailed.

It has been many years since I have seen Laura. She used to show up at my parents house out of the blue on the weekends, she had a knack for arriving just at lunch time. She would stay and chat and tell us about what was going on with her. The bond was breaking. They weren't married, had no children. We had no claim on her. She came around less and less often. She called when she was getting married to invite us to the wedding. She wanted to do it in person not just have the invitation with her name show up in the mail. She was getting married on my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary so we could not go. We thought it was a good omen though and wished her well and sent a gift.

That was it. There was no more from Laura. She had moved on. She had a new life. A new husband and family. We were the 5th wheel. How could she bring a ghost and his family along? Maybe she never told her new family about her experience with her last boyfriend.

She meant so much to me back then. She was the only link to the man I never really knew. When my father died I wanted desperately to tell her, ask her to come to the funeral. I just couldn't pick up the phone and say "Hi, remember me? How has your life been these past twenty some years please tell me all about it. Oh by the way would you like to come share some more grief with us?"

I look her up on the internet sometimes. I write down her address and phone number. I think maybe someday I will call her. But what would I say? The what-ifs haunt me. What if she doesn't want to remember? What if she doesn't want to talk about it? What if she doesn't remember all the things I want to know? What if she has finished that chapter and does not want to go back and analyze it again? She can't have forgotten him or us. You don't forget losing your lover at age 23. I think it has been too many years and am afraid it is selfish to want this from her. I put the little piece of paper I have written her information on in the bottom drawer of my desk, under some papers, like I am trying to hide it, keep it safe. Maybe someday I will have the courage to call and ask and she will have the courage to talk.