I used the hotel toothbrush and toothpaste kit and grabbed my pack, wanting to be at Arlington cemetery at 0800 because it would take me half an hour to reach Matt’s tombstone.

The Uber driver was kind enough to see where I was going and ignored me instead of asking questions. I slept hard, but not long enough, and my body felt ten years older as I trudged down the path and up the hill, past tens of thousands of white tombstones that looked exactly like my husband’s. Still, I knew where he was.

I sat down my pack and sat next to the place he was buried.

MATTHEW

NOLAN

ABRAMS

MEDAL OF HONOR

LCPL

USMC

ARIZONA

JUL 19 1989

SEP 21 2014

His tombstone had no sign to signify religion above his name, one of the few. I touched the letters and numbers, remembering the day of his funeral.

I cleared my throat, feeling it close around the words I wanted to say. “Matt?” was all I could manage.

I lay on the ground and closed my eyes, remembering when I used to lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. All I could hear now was the sound of the wind and a few muffled voices in the distance. Matt’s remains were down there, just a few feet beneath me, still as the earth between us.

It took me a long time to open my mouth to speak again, but I needed to wait, to feel that he was listening.

“I know you want me to be happy,” I said. My left palm lay flat on the soft grass in front of me, the wedding band on my middle finger coming into focus. “I met someone. It’s new. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but … he’s a good man. He doesn’t rush me. He knows about you. He’s a hotshot from Colorado. You two would’ve gotten along.” My smile turned into frown. “It’s weird to say that. That’s not what I meant. You wouldn’t have gotten along with someone interested in your wife.”

The wind made the grass tremble. Growing up in the desert, the lush green blades had always fascinated me. The desert was lifeless, and here I lay, soft green for miles, flowers of every color, and surrounded by death. I wanted to reach down and touch Matt’s hand, hear his voice, his heartbeat. Every nerve and muscle had cried for him since the day he left me forever, and being this close to his remains made my insides tense and burn, feeling like I was being pulled forward and crushed at the same time.

I’d carried my pain long enough. Matt wasn’t here to share it. It was time to let him go.