Chapter 4: It IS Okay

It was 7:00 PM when Walker finally got home from the hospital. He ate a cold sandwich and went straight to bed. For the first time since the accident he slept soundly. It was nearly 9:00 AM when his phone began to buzz. He silenced it and pulled the covers over his head. It buzzed again. It was Connie. She had left a message. He skipped the message and called her.

“Good morning honey, what's up?”

“Lizzie is dead.”

“What?” he said, trying to process her words. 

“She had a massive hemorrhage last night.” Connie’s voice cracked. “I never even knew. I thought she was sleeping. Then the monitors started going crazy. By the time the nurses came in she was gone.”

“I'll be right there,” said Walker.

He shoved his legs into his jeans, splashed some water on his face, and stumbled out to the car. Nothing seemed real. He felt like a phantom. Entering the room, he saw Connie slumped over in a chair. She looked at him and rose unsteadily. Walker threw his arms around her and they clung to each other. They went weak and the knees and knelt beside Lizzie’s bed as if in prayer. There was only emptiness. They knelt in silence trying to grab hold of a world that had lost all meaning. A nurse entered the room.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she said. “I hate to bother you. But we need this room. Do you have a preference of funeral homes?” 

They just stared at her. 

The next ten days were so hectic that Walker barely had time to think. They had to choose a funeral home, buy a casket, and plan a service. There were relatives to contact and a flood of sympathetic people to contend with. Messages on Facebook ran into the thousands. They received so many cards they would not fit in their mailbox. It was like being on a fast-moving conveyor belt. They had no time to process what was happening. They were just shoved along, going through the motions of living.

They should have found a bigger venue for the funeral. Their little church only seated a hundred and seventy-five people. Over five hundred came. Many stood outside for the entire service. The outpouring of support was overwhelming. How could the world be filled with so much love and so much pain?

The day after the funeral, the conveyor belt jerked to a stop. Walker sat at home with Connie in an empty house. Everywhere, they felt Lizzie’s absence. The hairbrush by her sink. The vacant chair at breakfast. Her socks underneath the couch. The door to her room. 

The mailbox was empty now except a note that came from Angela. Walker opened it and read it to Connie.

“I remember when Paul died,” she wrote. “The hardest part was the month after the service. It was like everything went back to normal for everyone but me. With Paul gone, nothing would ever be normal again. I just want you to know I have not forgotten you.”

The next week, Walker went back to work and resumed management of the home electronics section. Many of his customers knew what had happened. They fumbled for words, trying to find something to say but it was awkward. It seemed to Walker that some people were avoiding him, like he had contracted leprosy or something. 

Angela was not like this. “You’ll get through this,” she said. Somehow the way she said it made Walker half believe it. 

On his second day back at work, Susan called him into the office. 

“Sorry to have to bring this up,” she said, “but it's time to sit down with Don in human resources and talk about insurance.” She nodded toward his door. “He’s expecting you.” 

Don was a young man in his early 30s. He motioned for Walker to take a seat.

“I'm afraid I have some bad news,” he said. “Health insurance doesn’t begin for new employees until after 30 days.