The Final Gift

Slowly, painfully, things are going back to normal. Well, my new normal…without Anna. Occasionally I will see or do or smell something that will remind me of her and it will feel like a bucket of ice water is poured over me as someone punches me in the gut. I can’t breathe and it all comes rushing back. Like what happened yesterday.

When I got home from work last night, there was a delicate little box sitting on our kitchen island.

“Um. Anna’s brothers came by while you were gone. They dropped that off for you.” Molly said heavily.

The cloud of unending sadness that had taken up residence in our apartment was damn near suffocating but it was finally starting to lift, until now. It was back in full force in Molly’s voice and demeanor and at the mention of Anna’s brothers. I knew they were in town. They were helping pack up Theo and Anna’s house to move everything back to Connecticut and put the house on the market.

“They said they found that with a note addressed to you and thought you should have it.” Molly said.

I was confused and completely caught off guard. The box was small and silver, like a small jewelry box. The top was engraved with a delicate picture of a theatrical stage. I touched it lightly and then opened it. There was a folded note inside. My hands shook as I opened it up.

Congrats on closing your first show at The Glass Penny! You’re a big-time fancy pants stage manager now and you should be proud. I’m so proud of you, Faith! You’re amazing at what you do and I hope you never doubt yourself, no matter what anyone else says. I love you and congrats again on closing your show, I look forward to being in the front row on opening night for all the ones that follow.

                                             --Anna

I smiled through my tears as I read it and then looked at Molly.

“Did you get…?”

Molly held up hers with tears in her eyes. She nodded sadly.

I looked back down at the box and held it in my hands very carefully. It was the most precious thing I owned and I never wanted to let it go. It was all I had left of her and I wanted to keep it forever. I took it back into my room and set it down on my dresser when I heard a small rattle. When I opened it and took the note out I saw a small necklace. It was on a delicate silver chain and had the comedy and tragedy masks hanging on it. My fingers glided over the small charms as my heart ached for my dearest friend.

The gift was the epitome of who Anna was. The show doesn’t close for a few more weeks but she was ready and prepared with a thoughtful gift to celebrate what I had accomplished. Anna knew what a hard couple of years I’d had and she knew how much this gift was going to mean to me. And even after her death, she was still giving me the support I needed with her kindness and love. I sat on my bed and laughed while I cried. Just looking at the box made me smile at the memory of her. But I was sad, too. I’ll never hear her laugh again, I’ll never be able to tell her about my boy problems and seek her advice, she’ll never be at my wedding or see another one of my shows. The thoughts of what will never be keep running through my mind and I know I shouldn’t fixate on them but how can I just stop doing that when it’s Anna? She died. She’s gone. And she had so much more living to do. So much more to give. She was telling me about wanting to buy a new house just a few days ago. How can she be gone?

This is all so damn unfair! I know I have to let go and move on. I know I do. And maybe Anna’s final gift will help me to do that.

(Author's note: This is my 400th Faith-related post. -del)