To Love and Let Go by Rachel Brathen

Author:Rachel Brathen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

love

12

* * *

BELIEVE

Dennis and I flew to Sweden again in early June to get ready for the wedding later that month. We took Ringo with us and, for the first time, Pepper, too. Pepper had grown into a big dog—a black, Labrador-type giant, and he’d never been on a plane before. Getting married without him was never an option. We stayed at a hotel in downtown Stockholm, with all our suitcases and two dogs, because we wanted our own space, rather than to crowd into my mom’s tiny apartment, or go farther out into the countryside with my dad. As soon as we landed I got a tattoo: the phases of the moon lined up across my forearm. The moon was a part of my connection to Andrea. Her Instagram account was @ahlaluna, her initials followed by the words “the moon” in Spanish, but I used to make fun of her and exclaim “ah, la luna,” throwing my arm across my forehead with flair. It always made her giggle. She was a sister of the moon and took part in big women’s gatherings every year, and she was the one to teach me how as women, our menstrual cycles connect with the moon. The tattoo not only reminded me that just like the moon, life waxes and wanes in cycles—what comes, must go, and come again—but also, every night the moon rises, giving me an opportunity to talk to her.

With the wedding two weeks away, my to-do list was endless: seating charts to make, transportation to be booked and hotel rooms reserved, little gift bags to pack, decorations to buy. Last-minute changes were piling up, too, complicating our already hectic schedule: people who said they wouldn’t be able to make it had suddenly changed their plans, and the castle where the celebration was taking place didn’t have enough space, or staff, or plates and silverware, to accommodate everyone. The clock was ticking and I still didn’t have a wedding dress. Not “the dress.” I had just sort of surrendered to the idea that I’d wear a dress I brought with me. It was pretty enough, but I just wasn’t feeling it. With so much on my mind, at least I didn’t have to think as much about how sad I was, which was a nice reprieve.

The weekend before the wedding was midsummer, a big celebration in Sweden. I took the dogs and my friend Amelie out to my friend’s island in the archipelago for the weekend. Amelie was a new friend. She’d come to my retreat in Costa Rica a few months earlier, when Andrea was there, and we’d stayed in touch. Over the last few weeks, she had made herself indispensable with wedding planning and she’d become a shoulder for me to lean on.

The island celebration was nice, but it felt odd that no one mentioned Andrea. Everyone knew my best friend had died, but enough time had passed that people just didn’t think to ask anymore. Which was strange, because in my world, no time had passed at all.

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