love in pieces: memoir excerpt

8/7/2019 Love in Pieces: Memoir Excerpt

1/13

Love in PiecesA Memoir Excerpt

By Hyla Molander


2/13

DROP DEAD LIFE / HYLA MOLANDER 2010

Love in PiecesBy Hyla Molander

Excerpt from Forthcoming Drop Dead Life: A Pregnant Widows

Heartfelt and often Comic Memoir about Death, Birth, and Rebirth

I gave Troy the burgundy velvet bag thatcontained Eriks ashes. Do you mind holding them? I

may need to run down to the beach for some solitude.

Ill put them in my backpack. Troy rested the gray sack by his feet and slid the ashes in. He

started to zip up the pack, but paused. Jeanette, I might be able to fit yours in, too.

My mother-in-law, Jeanette, hugged her pine box closer to her chest. No, I want to hold him.

Haydens fine right here.

Jeanette had held on to her husbands ashes for 17 years already.

When we talked about scattering Erik ashes, she had said, Well scatter them together. Its never

felt right to do it before, but now it feels right. Erik can be with his daddy. They can finally be together.

And now, her eyes were glossy with the tears she had been unwilling to release for decades.

I thought of my painthe pain from losing Erikand knew it could not compare to hers. Two


3/13


husbands and her youngest son, all dead. If a heart is broken into pieces, how could she have anything

left?

Jeanette had never been to therapy, never gone to spousal loss support, had never been willing to

talk about her losses. Maybe she thought some things were inexpressible. I imagined all of that grief stuck

in her body, crawling through her limbs like a rattlesnake, and I wanted to reach inside of her and pull it

out.

I looked at her and vowed, to myself, that I would deal with my pain. I would take hold of my

sadness, wrestle it if I had to, letting its wild head hiss at me, so that I could come out on the other side

more capable of being an example for my baby girls.

I did not want to be broken into pieces. I wanted to be broken open. I wanted to find love again.

Its a two mile hike, you know, I said to Jeanette.

Dont you worry about me, sweetheart. Ill be fine. She nodded down at Haydens box. Its not

like he weighs very much.

We all began to walk.

Jen said, I brought hot tea for afterward. Gonna be even colder by the water.

That was thoughtful ofyou, I said, but I didnt really care about hot tea. I didnt care about

anything other than making sense out of things. But, how would I make sense out of Eriks death? Out of

the fact that I was here to scatter his ashes?

How? Why?

The pressure in my chest was unbearablea grief-filled hammer repeatedly pounding against my

ribcage.


4/13


There was too much to figure out. Should I stay in California, among my memories of Erik, or

should I move back to Florida to be closer to my family?

Everyone had an opinion, but I needed to silence their words. Silence everything. I needed quiet

so that I could let the answers come to me, but I was afraid. Afraid of trusting myself. Afraid of messing up

Tatiana and Keira. How could I get through this relentless ache and still be a good mother?

Erik would know what to do. Erik could fix anything. He had a way of holding me, of comforting

me, of taking care of me, and now, now there was no Erik. Now I had to do this without him.

I did not want to feel the clawing of my emotions, so I quickened my pace into a slow run.

I ran ahead of Troy, Jen, and Jeanette on the trail to Tennessee Valley Beach, my feet pounding

out aggression on the orange dirt. I turned back to them, for a brief moment, and yelled, Ill meet you

there.

Troy shouted, Well see you soon.

Do your thing, girl, Jen said.

Jeanette said nothing, but I knew she understood the need to be alone.

Running was my way of coping, a form of meditation without sitting still. Sitting still meant feeling

the entirety of my emotions and I was not ready to do that. So I ran and exhausted my body to shed the

angst. Without movement, I wanted to rip off my skin.

Not even three weeks after my C-section with Keira, I started running these hills again. My five-

inch incision was red, but without stitchesthe healing showing signs, but not nearly there. Throbbing pain

and all, I had to push my way, ever so slowly, through the valley and down to the beach.


5/13


And, now, two months after giving birth to Keira, I ran faster. My body was getting stronger from

running, from lifting weights with a trainer, from lifting babies. I was determined to get healthier every day

and wanted to rid my body of its excess baby weight so that I could attract men.

But, who would want me? Who would want a 29-year-old woman with two babies? I felt insecure.

Fat. Ugly. Unworthy. Erik was not here to tell me I was beautiful. Erik was not here to say that I was an

amazing photographer or the best mother in the world.

This was not the plan. This was not the way things were supposed to be.

Or maybe it is the way things are supposed to be. Maybe I had somehow manifested it all.

I looked back at the trail. I was alone, running, and no one was in sight.

I need you, Erik. Help me find my way.

The wind tossed my hair in all directions, slapping the brown strands against the front of my neck.

Every few strides, I stooped down to scoop up rocks, and slipped them into my waist pack.

This was where it all started. Tennessee Valley.

The day after Erik and I had moved from Florida to California, we visited Tennessee Valley, and I

was immediately filled up with the power of a universal force that I had never understood before. I spread

my arms out to the glorious Pacific Ocean. Such a sense of clarity and euphoria. My soul was consumed

by a spirit much greater than mine, and I felt, without a doubt, that my life had deeper purpose.

Never could I have imagined then that Eriks death would be a part of this universal plan. That I

would be here, just eight years later, asking the Ocean for answers to such incomprehensible questions.

Today, Tennessee Valley was veiled by thick fog. There was no sun shining on my face.

On my way up the mountainside, I wanted answers.


6/13


Why did this happen to me? To us? To Erik?

He was so happy and had it all taken away.

Why?

I bent down to pick yellow and purple wildflowers. Flowers for my Erik. This was one time, I was

certain, I would be forgiven for taking from the earth.

Sweat trickled down my neck, into the crease between my breasts. The sounds of ten-foot waves

slammed against protruding boulders.

I hiked up to the old army bunker in the side of the hill that I had visited many times before. It was

dark in the cement shelter and there were no people around, but I assumed it was safe, as I normally did,

and decided to step in.

Pathetic streams of hazy daylight illuminated the graffiti-like words that had been written in chalk,

crayon, and lipstick on the gray walls. I walked to the corner, where my favorite words were written in red,

and squinted to read them:

And we will find that wherever we step, the path appears beneath our feet.

Now, more than ever, these words spoke to me. Wherever we step, the path appears beneath our

feet.

From the opening of the bunker, I looked down to see Jeannette, Troy, and Jen beginning their

trek up the mountainside.

I was thankful for the few minutes I still had by myself.

The rocks slipped underneath me as I climbed up the rest of the way, where we had all agreed to

meet. I got to the top of the mountain and sat crossed-legged next to the edge of the cliff.


7/13


I tossed a piece of wood, watching it fall eight stories down to a deserted beach.

This is it.

This was where we would scatter the ashes, where I envisioned Erik and Hayden would soar off

the mountainside, into the Pacific Ocean. They would swim with the kelp, the sea lions, and the

occasional whale.

I heard a rustling sound in the bushes and turned around, suddenly worried about the rumored

mountain lion.

Instead, two deer sprang down the hillside nearby.

I planted my palms in the red dirt, the jagged rocks making indentations in my skin.

Probably too close to the edge.

Not the most stable person those days, I scooted back six inches, ever aware of orphaning Tatiana

and Keira.

My pack felt tight and heavy around my belly, so I unhooked it and took out the rocks I had

collected along the way.

Be with me, Erik.

Now a foot away from the edge of the cliff, I laid the yellow and purple wildflowers down with a

handful of rocks on their stems.

I imagined myself on our wedding day, holding two dozen tightly-wrapped white roses as I walked

towards Erik, down the grand marble staircase. He gazed at me with certainty. Eriks fingertips touched

mine, beneath my bouquet. He was a handsome vision in his black tuxedo. This was the beginning of

submitting to happiness, of letting myself be loved in a way most people will never experience.


8/13


I heard Eriks voice. Deep, soothing, authentic. His wedding vows surrounded me.

I believe that I know love because I have known you. There is nothing more complete than the

thought of you as my wife, as the mother to my children, as my best friend.

I set the rest of the rocks down, one by one, in deliberate formation. The process of forming the

words was surreal. Slow. As if I was removed from my own body, hovering above it all. Instead of being in

it, I watched myself.

Floating above, I took in this scene of a young woman who was leaving flowers and a message to

her dead husband.

It isnt me. It cant be me.

The widow formed her words in black and orange rocks.

I L O V E Y O U E R I K

This was my way of coping, so that I could do what I was here to do. I was here to scatter Eriks

ashes.

Another act of pushing through.

I hunched over, crying for this widow and her two babies. I mourned for the 29-year-old man who

was yanked away from everything he had ever wanted.

But, again, I was numb. My tears on automatic.

I was detached. Seeing nothing and everything, all at the same time.

The words were unclear, thewind and the waves were white noise.How ya doing? Jen said.


9/13


I was startled back into my body when I realized that Troy, Jen, and Jeanette stood nearby. Oh,

um, you made it.

Jen squatted down next to me. You need a sweatshirt?

I used my index finger to wipe beneath my eyes. No, Im alright. I didnt want to look at her.We dont have to do this today, if youre not ready, you know. She stroked my hair.

Jeanette will still be here for another week. We can come back another day.

No, today is the day, I said. Its just . . .

Fucked up?

Yeah, any way you look at it.

You just tell me what you need, and Ill make sure you get it.

Youve already done too much, Jen.

Thats what Im here for.

I do wish it wasnt so, um, foggy out. I was hoping for a sunny day.

Now, that I canthelp you with.

I rose up, waving to Troy and Jeanette to come over to us. I was thinking we could do it here.

What do you think? Look like a good . . . scattering spot?

Its beautiful, Jeanette said. Theyd like it here.

I thought we could toss them off the side so they can be in the ocean.

Hayden loved the ocean. She started to cry, too.


10/13


I held Jeanette in my arms, Haydens scatter-box pressed between both of our chests. I wanted to

take care of her the way she had been taking care of me and the girls the past few months.

Jeanette pulled away, determined. Well, I think 17 years is long enough to hang on to your ashes,

Hayden. She sat down and untwisted the tie around the protective plastic bag.

Troy, can I have Eriks?

He handed me the burgundy bag. Already got them out for you.

I sat next to Jeanette and took Eriks dark brown box from its velvet cover.

Flipping up the wooden lid, I peeked inside. I hadnt looked at his ashes before. They were in a

clear, plastic bag, inside the box. They looked like fine white sand.

For a moment, I wondered how I would really know if these were Eriks ashes. I didnt see him get

cremated. Last I saw of him, he was in his casket, and then the funeral home gave me this box full of sand.

No, it must be Erik. Why would the funeral home do that to me?

I pulled the bag out and set everything else aside.

Jeanette now had her hand inside of her ashes. Mine dont look like yours.

No, they must have cremated differently back then.

Its almost like I can feel some bones in there. She frowned.

Yeah, it looks like they only put the fine particles in Eriks.

Jeanette and I stared at each otherfor a while, both of us knowing the unspoken impact of thissituation.

Well, are you ready? she asked.


11/13


Do you mind if I take some of Haydens, too? I want to scatter some of them together first.

Thats a beautiful idea. She extended Haydens bag to me. Im not ready yet. You go first.

Now?

Now, sweetheart.

I reached deep into Haydens remains with my right hand and pulled out a fistful of ashes.

Jeanette was correct. His ashes were much coarser than Eriks. It made me a little sick to my

stomach, holding what I knew were nickel and dime sized pieces of my father-in-law.

My right fist tightened around them, while my left fingers wrapped around Eriks soft ashes. Some

slipped through the cracks, into the wind.

Here we go. I stepped to the edge of the cliff, peering over my running shoes, at the Pacific

Ocean.

My hands were filled with father and son, two generations that were now together in some other

world.

I tucked my wrists into my shoulders, my elbows pushing at the sides of my belly.

We love you, Erik, Jen said.

Youll always be with us, Troy said.

I raised my knuckles to the sky, making a V with my arms. Im sorry I never got to meet you,

Hayden. I know I would have . . . loved you. And, Erik, I dont even know what to say. You have given me

so much . . . and I cant believe youre gone. But it makes me feel good to know youre . . . youre with

your dad. And . . . I love you. I wish I could tell you how much I love you, but I hope you know. And the

girls love you. We will always . . . love you.


12/13


Clasping both of my hands together, I mixed their ashes, and then flung them off of the cliffside.

The wind blew hard, a massive gust with purpose. The ashes were lifted away from the direction of

the ocean.

They did not soar down to the sea lions. Instead, they whipped right back into my face.

What was left of Erik and Hayden was all over mein my hair, on my clothesand I couldnt help

but laugh. I laughed and cried, and then laughed some more.

I breathed in the cool air.

Jen dusted off my face. Theyre all over you.

Take some. I shook out my whole body. Everybody take some.

I felt exhilarated.

Troy said, Maybe you want to try scattering towards the valley.

I dont mind them on me. I laughed more deeply. You know its Erik playing tricks on me.

Jeanette, you first. It feels really good to let go.

If you say so. Jeanette dug both of her hands into Haydens bag. But Im not getting them in my

face. She turned towards the Valley, careful not to fight the wind. Be free, my love. Be with our son.

Jeanettes ashes sauntered down the hill, settling near the spot where I had just seen those deer, as

a sliver of light pierced the fog.


13/13


Hyla Molanderauthor, speaker, photographer, widow, wife, and mother of

fouris currently working on her forthcoming memoir, Drop Dead Life: A

Pregnant Widows Heartfelt and Often Comic Journey through Death, Birth,

and Rebirth.

Her interviews and speaking engagements include Writers Digest, The

Creative Penn, The Mama Monologues, Marketing The Muse, Camp Widow,

The National Association of Memoir Writers, The HealthyPlace Mental Health Radio Show, the Southern

California Writers Conference, and San Francisco Litquake Festivals Alternative Forms of Publishing Panel.

Written features include The Good Men Project Magazine, Single Mom Seeking, Life360, Marin Magazine,

Writing Mamas, and Scribd.

Hyla is also the author ofFinding Light, a collection of photography and words, which inspires others to find the

light in their darkest times.

http://www.hylamolander.com
http://www.hylamolander.com/http://www.hylamolander.com/http://www.hylamolander.com/

love in pieces: memoir excerpt

Documents