Megan’S Cry

One

I T WAS EARLY OCTOBER, and each day that passed was shorter and colder than the one before. Today was proving to be one of the warmer days remaining before the winter took hold. With an expanse of blue sky stretching out above her, Megan rode her horse along the creek that wound across the family farm. Even though she could have slept in, she had risen early, saddled Midnight, and was on her way before daybreak, hoping this Friday morning would be the advent of a special day. She had planned to leave Mason with his granddad, and spend the morning out here. As much as she loved her son, she knew she needed this time alone.

Wisconsin was especially beautiful in late fall, the leaves were so beautiful, all turning a myriad of colors. Everywhere she looked there were yellows, reds, and gold—every color and shade under the sun. She watched as they spiraled to the ground, some swirling in midair on their way to the ground, some casting their shadows on the waters below before ending their journey.

Out here she would leave the world behind, lose herself in the harmony and serenity of nature. This natural beauty was the world she had grown up in—the way the world was supposed to be—but lately, she was learning life wasn’t always what it was supposed to be.

Tomorrow, her mother would be laid to rest, but this morning, there was no place on Earth she would rather be, but here, far from everyone and everything. She tried to focus her thoughts on better times, and happier moments, but that wasn’t working either. Her feelings of despair had become so heavy, like a physical weight pulling her into a dark pit. Her world was collapsing in on her and there was nothing she could do about it.

She hoped that coming here might, in some mystical way, connect the two of them one more time. As crazy as it seemed, there was something inside of her that wanted to believe her mother’s spirit was still with her, that they were still connected somehow. No matter how irrational it seemed, she was glad she came. If there was the slightest chance of connecting with her, she was sure it would happen here. So, as illogical as riding out here was, she was glad she came. She needed to know…know she had done all she could. All she could—to listen to the small voice inside of her, the one telling her she didn’t have to say good-bye—whispering, I’m right here, here with you…I’ll always be with you. It was this small voice that had brought her out here today.

It seemed like only yesterday the two of them had ridden these trails together, sharing and laughing without a care in the world. As she rode, so many things her mother taught her drifted through her mind. Feeling the steady rhythm of Midnight’s muscles beneath her, she recalled her telling her how the sounds of nature were God’s music. She listened closely, but she couldn’t hear any music; all she could hear was the sound of the leaves fluttering in the wind. Somehow, it seemed as though this natural world gave more than it took, and today she needed all it had to give.

She recalled her youth on this farm, how she had been isolated from the cares and problems of the world. A part of her wished she could have remained here forever and never moved to the city. She wished her life now could be as simple as it had been back then. City life had not been what she expected; the people there seemed to be in such a hurry, unlike country people who seemed kinder and friendlier.

She desperately wished she could revive the magic she and her mother had shared out here. Those times together had been so wonderful. If only she could go back in time and relive every day. So many wonderful memories of her mother continued to flash across her mind—times that seemed almost magical now. Her eyes began to burn, and she felt the tears begin to run down her cheeks. Her mother understood the natural order of things, but she also believed in God, and the power of prayer. Megan recalled her telling her how miracles were real and no matter how unexplainable or unbelievable they seemed; they occurred as a natural part of God’s intervention in one’s life. She had come here desperately in need of one of those miracles. She listened with all of her heart, hoping to find just one little miracle. One small voice inside of her letting her know the love they shared was timeless. But when no voice came, she dismissed the whole idea, thinking it crazy. For a moment, she reconsidered it, before letting it go. She wondered if her mother knew how lost she was without her, and if she was up there praying for her. That’s crazy, the rational part of her mind cried out. "She’s gone, and that’s the end of it. All you have left are the memories." But memories weren’t enough, they would never be enough.

Any other day she would have felt the majesty around her, but today she realized she didn’t feel anything at all, only the incessant sadness inside of her that had now become the most fitting description of her life. She had come here to feel better—to feel the way she had all those times before—but today she felt as if she weren’t really here, as if this whole thing was just a bad dream. Her life was changing, fading away like the crumpled leaves under Midnight’s hooves.

Megan rode, contemplating the life her mother had led. How she lived with an inner peace, putting aside the circumstances and pressures of life, always finding ways to enjoy each day. How she loved the Bible, reading it daily, trusting every word. She lived as if all things were settled, as if everything was clear, that God would take care of everything.

How could she have ever been so naïve to think it would never change, to think her mother would always be there for her? If God existed, He hadn’t helped mother, and He certainly wasn’t interested in helping her. Where was he today? God was supposed to be here today! She wiped her eyes again, trying to compose herself. She wished she believed in something more, but she didn’t. She felt so empty. She bit her lip and tried to stop crying. She knew the truth… she was on her own. No miracle was coming to save her. If she was to get through this, she would need to find the strength from inside herself.

She lived in a world much different from her mothers, one much faster paced and more demanding. She had never dealt with the stress of working outside the home and raising a son all on her own. There was always something needing to be done. First it was work, and then Mason’s activities, and then the grocery shopping, the cooking, and the cleaning. It was endless. Thinking back, it had never seemed as overwhelming as it had lately. Lately, it felt as if everything was closing in on her, and the pressures of life were making her feel much older than her thirty-eight years. It seemed like every day she could feel herself getting older. People changed, but not overnight. It wasn’t her age making her look and feel old—it was this newly acquired tiredness. This tired was unlike any she had ever experienced—it was all-encompassing, coming in waves throughout the day, making it difficult to laugh, or smile, or even think.

Lately, she found herself looking in the mirror, expecting to look older, quite relieved seeing she looked no different. She was pleased with how she looked. She had been lucky. Most of her physical characteristics had come from her mother—her dark hair, wide pleasing smile; and deep green eyes. Although not as obvious, her fair complexion, slightly uneven front teeth, and slender nose had come from her father. She was good looking, but sadly, her outward features weren’t helping her find the inner strength she needed right now. She thought about how peaceful her mother always seemed, desperately wishing that trait would show up and take all her anxiety away. What would it be like, she asked herself, to live a calm and relaxed life, without a care in the world? Why couldn’t I have inherited that trait?

It had been three years since Brian left, and not a day went by that she didn’t think about him at least once. She was glad he moved to Chicago, even though it made Mason’s visits longer and more expensive. In their early visits, Brian talked only of Mason, and she understood that; however, lately, each time they exchanged Mason, he would ask about old friends and how she was getting along. On the last visit, he talked of how he was working for some engineering firm that was designing a runway pavement right there at O’Hare. She found herself sitting in the terminal listening to him talk until time to go through security and board her flight home.

All the while they were married he never said anything about his work. All she knew of his professional life was he was an engineer and he worked with roads. She understood him telling her about the activities he had planned for Mason, but it seemed odd—now that they were divorced he wanted to share so much with her. He was Mason’s father, and he always would be, but she found it odd how she knew more about his work now, than when she was married to him.

Judging from his ring finger, she assumed he was single—still moving from one woman to the next, not yet ready to commit. As far as she was concerned, marriage brought with it rules. Remaining single was better than being married and breaking the rules like he had done with her. She felt the anger of three years ago rising again and then subsiding, turning into the dull sadness she was now accustomed to. The truth was, she couldn’t remember being really happy since he left. She had never wanted the divorce; it all happened so fast. Ever since the divorce papers were signed, it felt as if a part of her had died.

As hard as it was, moving on without Brian, she was moving on. Still, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She still missed him. She missed snuggling up beside him when she got into bed, waking to the smell of coffee brewing, and being a part of his life. She flashed back to the two of them standing over Mason’s crib, looking down at their son. Mason was a miracle—so perfect—his tiny head protruding from the covers surrounding him. The memory made her long to be a family again. Why had he let their family just fade away?

She would never forget the first year after he left. His leaving was the turning point in her life. She spent all the time she could with Mason—both of them doing their best to move forward. She recalled the two of them watching Disney movies, sitting together in front of the TV on a blanket, so the cheese dip wouldn’t drop on the carpet. They had their good times, but sometimes Mason’s moods would swing wildly and he would become angry with her, blaming her for what happened and then clinging to her, thinking she might leave him as well. After that first year, both of them smiled occasionally, their lives becoming more tolerable. After the second year, they were doing much better. She entered his room late at night, just to watch him sleep. He was hers, she thought. He would always be hers. That fact was reassuring, even comforting, and at night just knowing that helped her get to sleep.

Even though she loved Mason, and wanted to spend as much time with him as she could, the love she had for her son was different; it was a mother’s love. She yearned for a love more like she had had with Brian—or maybe a new love, one like she had never known before. When she met Jordan Miller she was sure she had found exactly that.

She had begun seeing Jordan just shy of a year ago. She recalled how excited she was in the beginning. She couldn’t quit thinking about him. She found herself smiling most of the day. But that soon changed. She couldn’t say when it began to change. Looking back she realized it had all been infatuation and infatuation never lasts.

She recalled her conversation with him the night before, even though she hated going there. She had wrestled with his excuse all night. I need to administer two physical assessments on Saturday. There’s no way I can make it to the funeral. What was he thinking? Didn’t he realize how much she needed him now? After mulling it over in her mind, the whole thing only made her more upset with him. She knew their relationship was changing, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t want him, because she did. He was the one for her alright; she just wanted more out of the relationship. Maybe it was because he was always so busy, they never had time to cultivate much romance, she wasn’t sure. Even after seeing him for almost a year she still couldn’t say she really knew him, but that would all change when his residency was over.

Residency or not, he could have changed his schedule. It seemed almost funny to her now, how he had seemed so perfect for her when they met. If she knew anything, it was that no one was perfect. For a moment she tried to see his side of this, but she couldn’t. If he loved her, he would be there for her, and that was the only way to see it. Sometimes she felt like telling him off, but she couldn’t. She was lucky he was seeing her at all and knew she would never find another like him. Jordan was the type of man she had envisioned herself marrying one day. Together they would live the life she had always dreamed of. Yes, there were things she wished she could change about him, but she wasn’t settling, just being realistic.

She imagined Jordan taking her in his arms, and making her his wife, and putting her first in his life. Once his residency was over, they would get married and her life would be what she had always dreamed of, right now, it was hard, if not impossible, to see him making her first in his life. As her emotions returned once again to a dismal sadness, tears began running down her cheeks again. Taking the reins in one hand, she wiped the tears away with the other. No matter—being married to Jordan would be far better than the life she was living, even if it wasn’t everything she believed a marriage should be. She believed love was a choice, a commitment. Love was putting someone else’s needs above your own. That was the way love was supposed to be. Even though it all sounded good, the truth was; that kind of love only existed in storybooks.

All these years, Megan had never understood how her sister could be happy married to Ray. The man knew everything! He figured the upside, the downside, and the percentages. Maybe that was his job, but the problem was, he ran his household the same way—by the numbers. It seemed to her Ray controlled every aspect of Jenifer’s life. Jenifer married Ray the summer after she graduated from college. Soon Ray was working as a research analyst for a brokerage firm in Madison. They had two wonderful children, Peter and Susan, and she seemed perfectly happy with her life. Now, for the first time in ever she felt herself becoming a little jealous of her sister.

Slowing her thoughts long enough to consider her own life, she couldn’t say she was totally satisfied with her relationship either. Jordan’s actions had left her feeling abandoned. Suddenly…Ray didn’t seem so bad after all. Her sister never had to deal with being a single mother or working a job. She thought of all of the pressures she was under, realizing her sister didn’t have to deal with any of her problems. Apparently, Jenifer had become accustomed to Ray’s controlling nature or had at least learned how to drown out the sound of her husband’s annoying voice. Why was it so hard to find a man who would cherish his wife, trust her, and put her first in his life? Why couldn’t she find a man who could be her best friend? What difference did it make anyway? She sadly concluded it wasn’t going to happen.

Her mind flashed back to the ringing of the telephone.

Megan. Her father’s voice breaking as he spoke. She’s gone.

Even though she had sat with her every day, knowing the end was coming, something inside of her couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t be gone. Megan just couldn’t accept it. She felt sick again, as if someone had punched her in the stomach. It wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair! It couldn’t end now. It just couldn’t. The words she’s gone kept running through her head. She suddenly felt exhausted from not sleeping the night before. It was all so depressing. Each day was turning darker, and she was helpless to stop it. No matter how she hated the thought of it, soon all she would have left would be the memories, and nothing more.

Turning her horse toward home, she heard the words…again. She’s gone.

Two

T HE SUN PIERCED THROUGH the dark gray clouds momentarily before disappearing behind them once again. The air was cold and heavy, saturated with moisture; it would be raining soon. Parishioners with heavy hearts filed into the Ashland United Methodist Church. Folks soon filled every pew, leaving some people sitting on folding chairs in the back.

The pastor began by quoting scripture: I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me shall live even if he dies. He followed with a prayer before warmly greeting everyone in attendance. He proceeded to read the numerous Bible passages Claire had personally requested be read on this day. Pausing, he began to recount the life history of Claire Louise Davis. He spoke of her family, of which she was so proud, and of Claire being a special and loving woman to all who knew her.

Megan sat in a pew one row from the front, looking ashen, her eyes downcast. She tried to swallow, but there was a lump in her throat. She struggled to control her emotions. Earlier that morning she had told herself she was going to be strong so her mother would be proud of her. Lifting her eyes, she focused on the pastor’s words.

He spoke with a tender passion, eloquently expressing how Claire had embraced those around her, strengthening, encouraging, and lifting up the hearts of so many. He described how Claire had poured out her love on her family, friends, and community. How she was loved by friends and family and would truly be missed.

The Pastor paused, before continuing. "Claire Louise Davis stood for all that was good in this world. She loved giving so much of herself to others. One of her favorite verses was Matthew 25:35: I was a stranger and you invited me in. Claire believed the Bible was more than words on a page. The Word of God was spirit and life, bringing hope and comfort to all if they would only believe. Claire believed Jesus Christ is the Light of the World. That the Word of God empowered people, enabling them to leave their past behind and begin again with His precious son as their guide."

He concluded by saying, Thank you Claire for everything…, but most of all for reminding us that God’s word has the power to set the captives free and make them whole again.

The funeral procession left the church and drove to the Ashland Cemetery. As the guests made their way to the funeral tent, some men held their wives close with an arm over their shoulder or around their waist. Megan held her son close, not wanting to let go of him. She grasped the sleeve of Mason’s coat, trying to find some comfort. The sky was turning darker, and the wind was growing stronger. She could smell the rain coming in the chilly air. The fringes of the tent flapped in the wind. Dark clouds moved closer to the ground, and a cold rain began to fall—first a sprinkle and then gradually harder.

The pastor spoke again, and when he finished, he stepped aside.

Megan’s father rose from his seat beside her and walked to the front of the tent.

Dale Davis wasn’t accustomed to speaking in public. In fact, he wasn’t one to speak much at all, unless he had something to say. Today was one of those days.

Folks, he said, looking into their faces. "Over the last weeks, I have tried to prepare myself for this day, but now it’s here, and all I can say is, I feel lost and alone. Even so, I know I was blessed, blessed to have ever known Claire, and I thank the Lord for every day I had with her. From the beginning she trusted me. She stood beside me in everything I did. She loved me in spite of my shortcomings. I always knew we were a team. She loved her children, her grandchildren, and all of you. Many nights she stayed up late praying for so many of her friends. All of you who knew her knew she spoke only of the good in people.

You see, he paused, remembering. Then, looking into their