The simple brown package

My doorbell rings pulling me from my thoughts. I open my eyes to the blank screen on my computer. I just can’t find the strength to write the words I need to, or maybe I just have too much to say to fit on the damn blank page. The doorbell rings again.

I gather my strength and pull myself out of my chair. My balance escapes me, and I grab the edge of my desk for support. The picture of my beautiful Naomi falls to the floor. The sound of breaking glass reaches my ears. “God damn it,” I mumble to myself.

The dizziness subsides and I lean over, picking up the broken picture. The glass is completely shattered. It almost feels like the universe is kicking me when I’m already down. The doorbell rings again.

“I’m coming!” I yell out. As much as I want to keep the world out, it seems like it wants to barge in. Well, it at least wants to keep annoyingly ring my doorbell. I place the picture back on my desk and make my way to the front door.

The frosted glass of the front door hides the details of my guess, but given the circumstances and the silhouette, I know who it is. Honestly, I’m a little surprised she is here. I grab the doorknob, but I hesitate to open it. She really is one of the last people I want to see right now. I want to keep reality and the world out right now, but of all people, she is here to bring it all in, crashing through my front door.

I take a deep breath and exhale, preparing myself. I open the door to face my guest. Her vibrant blue eyes meet mine; the same exact eyes that Naomi has. Everything comes rushing back to me. All the memories hit my heart at once, filling it to the brim. Overwhelming it as it breaks all over again.

Naomi’s mother stood there, saying nothing. A single tear rolls down my cheek before I am able to compose myself. Once calm, I notice she is holding a simple brown package out to me. I take the package and she finally speaks to me.

“I can’t keep this,” she says, as she holds back her tears. “I thought I could, but I just can’t.”

I am speechless. I wasn’t expecting this at all, let alone this package. Before I can say anything, she turns and returns to her car. I still can’t move or say anything. I just watch her drive away.

I turn back into the house, shutting the door behind me. The package didn’t weigh more than a pound or two, but it is the heaviest box I have ever held. I place the package on my coffee table in the living room. Sitting down on the couch, I stare at the box. There isn’t anything particularly special about the box. Just a simple box, wrapped in simple brown paper. However, this box I wasn’t expecting, but here it is, right in front of me, in my living room.

Thinking about it though, it kind of makes sense. She would want to be here; she would need to be here. It’s almost ironic that our relationship actually started with a package much like the one right in front of me.

***

It was about ten years ago to the day. It’s a little crazy how fast time goes by. I was working as a delivery driver for the holidays. I wasn’t very good at my job. I usually was late to half of my deliveries, but at the same time, if I was good at my job, I would have never meet Naomi.

There was this little bistro and craft shop I would pass every day on my route. I never had to deliver there, but I knew of it because of the smell of coffee and fresh baked bread that would spread across that street. I always told myself I would get up early the next day and get ahead of my deliveries, just so I could stop in and grab a coffee that I had been smelling.

It never happened. I would always fall behind on my deliveries and have to skip the bistro. Well, this particular Saturday on my route, I passed the bistro like I always do. What I didn’t realize, I actually did have a delivery at the time.

“Wait!”

Someone was yelling from the side of my truck. I looked in my sideview mirror to see the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. She was struggling but keeping pace with me. I slammed on my breaks and allowed her to catch up.

“Is there something I can help you with, Ma’am?” I asked.

“You have a package for me that I really need.”

I was completely embarrassed. I allowed her to go to the back of my truck and find her package. Just a simple square box, wrapped in brown paper.

“Thank you,” she said. “I really needed this today.”

“I just want to apologize, as you can tell, I’m really not that good at this job.”

She laughed thinking I was joking.

“What you can do,” she said, “is come by my bistro and buy me a cup of coffee as an apology.”

I couldn’t believe she was the owner of the bistro I had been wanting to go to. Before I knew it, it was later that evening and I was walking into the bistro, taking in the wonderful smell of coffee.

Those ten years passed so quickly, I wish I could go back and just slow down time just a little. To be able to take our walks at the park again, where Naomi would always befriend a new dog being walked along the path. All the times she would take care of me when I was sick, or when I took care of her. Usually around the same time since we would always get each other sick. There was nothing that would keep us apart.

Even when she got really sick. I was there for every drive to the hospital. I would sleep in the chair next to her bed for every overnight stay. Her pain was my pain, her cancer was my cancer. It ate away at my heart just as much as it ate away at her body. As she withered into someone I nearly didn’t recognize sometimes, so did my heart.

The day she finally passed will stick in my mind until I follow her to the other side. The weather fit the mood; it was late fall. She loved the fall. So, I helped her into her wheelchair, and I took her out to the backyard. It was slightly drizzling, so we stayed underneath the patio covering. It was made of tin, and she loved the sound it made as the rain would fall. The dying leaves on the ground were moist, producing that decomposing smell that is just the smell of fall. It was a perfect afternoon. She fell asleep, her hand losing its grip and falling from mine. That was it, she never woke again.

***

I stare at the box on the table. I pick it up and place it on my lap. A dark spot forms on the brown paper from a fallen tear. I wipe my eyes before more can fall. The box may have been light in physical weight, but to me, it was the heaviest thing I have ever held.

Even though the box contained my Naomi’s ashes as we waited for the custom urn to be made, it just isn’t her. Not to me at least. It is all the memories of love and loss. It is my burden and joy to have with me. This box carries my world and my hell. My happiness and pain. It is, was, and always will be my everything.

I hold the box close to my chest as I make my way back to my office. I place the box down on my desk, next to the broken picture of my love. I sit myself in front of my computer and place my fingers on the keyboard. I sigh, holding back tears and I know she would want to be here for this. I type my first sentence of her eulogy. It started with a simple brown package.