On The Plane Home

Photo Credit: Patricia Magallón; used with permission

I’ve always loved the clouds. They’re so dreamlike and set the mood so easily. Sometimes they make one feel like the storm they carry will end all things. But more often, when they’re light, they make everything seem like it will turn out all right.

Just now, they’re aglow with the sun behind as it sets and I can almost hear them whispering comforting words as the plane passes through them. I watch as they bring back memories…

Usually, you remember the little shallow experiences which then fade into the deeper, more meaningful ones. But right now I’m remembering that special night first.

He had always had a sense of humor. He had asked me out to an Applebee’s. We were in a corner booth, eating the last of our BBQ ribs and fries, alone except for two women across the room.

He turned to look at me, his lovely, black eyes twinkling with laughter. “You like ribs?”

I smiled, curious. “Sure.”

“A lot?”

“Well, I agreed to them.”

“Good. So I was hoping you would agree to something else.”

I waited.

“We’ve been on several dates now and we know each other pretty well… I was wondering… if you would like to go to the Christmas ball next week.”

No doubt my face beamed. “ I’d love that.”

There was a pause while I munched a french fry and he watched me, rather intently, I thought.

“But, um, I was wondering if you would agree to…something else.” He broke the silence. “ See, I could keep buying you ribs when you like them.”

“Are you saying you would like to start going steady?” I felt all bubbly.

“Yeah… I mean… Well, I didn’t mean it like that.” He took a sip of Dr. Pepper, while I waited, a bit disappointed. “ I meant I could buy you ribs when you like them if you had one of those memberships.”

“An Applebee’s membership?” I queried, feeling the bubbles pop.

“No, no. I mean the one that comes with this nice little membership certificate.”

He pulled out a crinkled envelope from his pocket and handed it to me. Skeptically, I took it and studied it with little interest. He leaned back in the booth and watched me while I ripped the paper. Inside was a gift card, as I had expected. I mean, it was nice of him, but it seems guys often have no sense of what girls find romantic. “I thought you said it wasn’t an Applebee's card.”

“What?” He slipped the card from my hand and laughed. “No, sorry. I guess I gave you the wrong envelope. But you can keep that if you want. It’s your birthday tomorrow anyway.”

I opened the second envelope, annoyed. A photo of Fiji. It was a beautiful picture but just pointed out another flaw: his irrelevance. And then there was a smaller piece of paper. Looked like a ticket of some sort folded in half.

As I unfolded it, I froze.

He took the plane ticket from me and said, “That’s the membership certificate, but it’s optional.”

I laughed through my tears and was able to say nothing from the shock.

“I know it’s sudden, but you were worth the wild try.” He knelt beside me, grabbing the ring from the ticket and taking my left hand in his. “Would you like that membership? There’s another ticket here in my pocket for me.”

I tried to speak but couldn’t, so after a minute, I simply nodded with a sob.

He stayed on his knees and smiled meekly at me. “You know…your eyes are beautiful.”

Then he leaned up and brushed a soft kiss on my lips, despite my convulsions, and whispered in my ear for the first time, “I love you.”

It really is a remarkably handsome ring, just like I would have chosen it. It’s a plain white gold band with a deep blue diamond between two tiny white diamonds and a verse engraved on the inside. I never really liked your typical bright, yellow gold and I always thought clear diamonds were boring. I suppose he must have asked one of my close friends about what I wanted for a ring since we’d never talked about marriage.

It had all happened so fast. But I guess that’s the way it goes with me, everything going way too fast. Despite the fact we’d been just friends and never a couple, I had known for a while that if he popped the question, I would agree. Yet it was all like a dream. Funny, the way he did it. It was carefully planned to seem like he pulled it out of his sleeve. Choppy. Some would say unromantic, but I wouldn’t have changed that moment for the world.

But it wasn’t just Applebees that night. He took me to this classy place for dessert, despite our casual clothes. Outside our window, silver snowflakes were beginning to float down like so many cold flower petals and we could see the entire city, a metropolis of fireflies dotting the ground. I was still not over my ecstasy and tears still rolled down occasionally onto my jeans. Our chairs were close together and I was leaning against his shoulder while eating my gelato.

“So what’s your dream wedding?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. Aren’t all girls supposed to have a dream wedding?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s usually just that- a dream.”

“But what if it could happen.”

He said it like a statement.

“What do you want?”

“I asked first.”

I repositioned myself on his shoulder. “Well…” I began timidly. “I thought about a beach at sunset. A simple wedding, with just close family and close friends. We would be on the sand, barefoot maybe. I would be wearing a simple cream colored gown of light material that flowed in the wind. And he-you would be wearing one of those guayabera shirts. There would be tropical flowers and coconut palms. Then a simple reception in the trees after dark with torches and fruit and a big maple cake decked in hibiscus blossoms, and Italian ice cream…”

“Poetic. I like it.”

I blushed. “I guess I never thought about it that way.”

“So how about Hawaii? We can pay the way for the friends and family who can’t pay the tickets. I’ve been saving up a long time for this.”

“Really?” I turned my head up to meet his eyes, but not wanting to separate my head from his shoulder. I was feeling emotional again.

“Since I met you three years ago.”

“But you asked me out for the first time only a few months ago.”

“I had my hopes…”

“But what do you want?” I ventured again, surprised but smiling at him.

“I thought we just decided.”

“…oh,” I smiled dreamily.

And it was just as we decided. Everything was perfect, just as I would have had it. The sunset we were gifted with that evening was more beautiful than any I could have imagined and a full, ivory moon followed it. The only flaw was my excitement during the ceremony which led to my nervous and mixed up, “I do- I mean, I will...yes.” He said it only made everything sweeter though, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain, but I still wish I’d kept my head.

That night we stayed at a resort there in Hawaii as our first night together. The next morning we flew to Fiji, where we stayed a full two weeks which should have been one.

My next memory comes a few months later. When I told him he was a father. He was absolutely thrilled. His entire face lit up so much I thought it would catch fire. Those months before the special day we anxiously prepared. We found out it was to be a boy, so we began work on his bedroom. My baby shower was a lovely celebration.

Finally, the day came, though earlier than it should have. This memory begins when I was already in the hospital, beginning labor. He was standing beside me, holding my hand, and talking to me happy about his plans for his little boy. I couldn’t help beaming with him beside me.

But I couldn’t keep the grin for long. Abrupt pains would suddenly wrench me from the peacefulness of his wonderful expression, and I would bend over, gasping. His face filled with worry, and he took on the helpless mood of a pup worried for his human.

“Is it really that bad?”

I only nodded, breathing in short, aching gulps. Sweat dampened my brow and blurred my vision.

He sighed, “If I could I would have the baby and take the suffering myself.” I have to admit I kind of wanted that, too, but only until he said that. Then I no longer did.

It went on like this for some hours until the moment came, but there was a complication. The umbilical cord had entangled little Benny who was arriving early as it was. He didn’t make it.

I was devastated. The next few hours were a nightmare which seemed endless. At first, I was in shocked disbelief as the doctors extracted the tiny, lifeless body. Then understanding hit me in the face and the tears began. He tried to comfort me, trying to be strong for me. But his eyes revealed what the rest of him tried to hold back for now: the utter despair which overwhelmed us both.

A few days later, back in our home, I woke one night to find his side of the bed empty. I sat up and noticed the balcony door open.

He was standing there in the dark, staring off into the starry sky. He didn’t realize I was there so I said nothing for a moment. His jaw was tight and there was a tear gleaming on his cheek.

I walked up to him and wordlessly hugged him. We both sobbed as we embraced in the chill air, his tears wetting the top of my head, mine pouring onto his shoulder. We didn’t say anything for a time. After a long while, though, I heard the whispered words coming from my own mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

He just shook his head slowly, his arms tightening around me. At that moment I felt so guilty and yet so forgiven. For four years he had loved me; one of them he dedicated entirely to loving me. I loved him, too, but I never realized how much he had done for me, more than I could have ever done.

The baby’s death was not my fault but I had done nothing to comfort my beloved as he had for me, when I think it wounded him even deeper than it did me. At that moment, I finally understood and broke and healed simultaneously.

I cannot describe it to someone who has never undergone that.

Despite my heaving, sobbing body and aching, throbbing heart, I felt like everything would turn out all right; I felt warmth creeping over me and sensed the same in him. We’d go on, just the two of us.

Then came our first anniversary. That morning I had woken up to find the house empty. Downstairs, I discovered a lovely breakfast of fresh homemade, coffee cake, and orange juice accompanied by a bouquet of wildflowers and a little love note. But he was gone.

Knowing his unpredictability and romantic personality, I suspected he was away preparing something for the special day, but I could not even guess what it might be. So. for the time being, I sat down in the sunlight-flooded kitchen and enjoyed my special breakfast, eager with anticipation. Even though it was only a month and the heavy grief which was still fresh in me, I was so excited and happy just then that I almost forgot my heartache.

Later that morning the phone rang. I picked up immediately after the first ring.

“Love, is that you?”

“Hello, honey. This is Mom.”

“Oh. Hi, Mom. Are you all right?” She sounded kind of disturbed. “It’s my anniversary today,” I said, trying to cheer her up.

“Could you come down to the gas station west of town? The one past the museum.”

“Um, sure. Is everything ok?” I supposed it was part of his plan. It was just like him: seemingly unromantic but would probably end up being a beautiful experience.

“He’s dead.”

I froze, staring into space, disbelieving.

He had been on his way home after making a reservation at the nicest hotel on the shore and going to prepare our suite and make sure all was as he wanted it. That same day, or should I say, night, after seeing him and making sure Mother was to attend to all the funerary details, I drove out to the hotel.

The suite was elegantly arranged as though for a queen, in the richest display of flowers and elegant treats. It’s impossible to describe.

I spent that night there, in the suite, flipping through an album he had put together for me. I couldn’t stop the river of tears.

The funeral was just like he wanted it. Yes, believe it or not, he had talked about how he wanted his funeral to be.

I had his ashes in a fine, little, mahogany box. The water lapped silently on the sand. The palm trees swayed. I remembered how, just a year before, I had stood here with him and made a vow.

Now I carried him to the water’s edge. Opening the box, I let him go, with tears blinding me, into the blue depths of the Pacific. The water was aglow with the breathtaking passing of the sun.

After that, I lay the box beside me and took a single plumeria blossom and gently laid it on the rippling surface of the sea. I stood watching, with water swirling about my feet, as the sea bore away the blossom.

Soon, there were many leis floating around the single blossom, tributes from the many friends who accompanied me that evening. His father said a few simple yet haunting and beautiful words for his departed son. Not until the last of the leis disappeared from sight and the final rays of sun sank beyond the sea, did people begin to pay their respects to me and to trickle away. And not until the full darkness of night overcame the afterglow of the sun’s radiance, did I fully accept that he was gone. Not for a time. But forever…

A tear rolls down my cheek as I gaze out into the clouds. I’m on my way home from Hawaii, from the funeral.

The ring is still on my finger where it spent only enough time to barely create a mark. I haven’t wanted to take it off. It’s the last piece I have of him.

I slip it off, studying it as it glimmers in the cloud’s reflections of the sun behind me. I pull a silver chain out of my purse. I bought it in Hawaii, knowing I would need it but having refused to use it until now.

I cannot hang on to him forever, though.

The ring goes onto the chain and the chain goes around my neck, which aches from crying.

I cannot hang on to him forever, but I will remember forever. Funny, we were together such a short time we never got around to a real quarrel. So I only have lovely memories.

I lean back, feeling my unadorned finger odd and the coolness of my new pendant strange. But beautiful. Just like the clouds around me. Telling me everything will be all right.