Awful Beautiful Life by Becky Powell

Author:Becky Powell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FaithWords
Published: 2019-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

The “second mile” was long, but in many ways summer flew by, too. I was in meetings every day, and the kids stayed close. Each evening I would come home and we’d spend time together. Friends had organized meals through August, which was such a blessing because, even though I love to cook, I was too tired to cook anything that summer. Melissa was at the house every day, handing all the details I couldn’t, even helping to plan a few trips for the kids—the Fourth of July with Mark’s parents in Colorado Springs and a few weekends with my family in Houston.

For my part, the meetings and the investigations pressed on. On July 29, the SEC subpoenaed Invesco and me for Mark’s personal records and files, including the contents of his briefcase. It continued its investigation, as did the DOJ and the FBI. Invesco continued with its forensic accounting. My lawyers dealt with so much—including a search for the justice of the peace from Mason County.

She had gone on vacation prior to issuing Mark’s official death certificate, but now, weeks later, it appeared she was AWOL in Alaska. Her office said she had gone fishing, but no one could reach her. No one had a date for her return. She had left her job in May and had not been heard from since. By August, my lawyers wondered if she had been killed in Alaska, since no one in her office knew anything, nor had they heard from her in weeks. Yet she was the only one who could issue an official death certificate. Without it, we could not get the insurance money to pay back the creditors.

We put out some inquiries and we waited, focusing our attention on other fronts, fronts that felt endless and exhausting. Claims kept pouring in; there were constant requests for reports; tax questions emerged; clawbacks were still hotly debated; and communications with Invesco remained ongoing and stressful.

When the kids were gone to either Colorado Springs or Houston, I found myself alone in the evenings as I had never been before. I met Mark when I was twenty-one and had been with him since that first date. I’d been married to him for over half my life and, although my friends were present and wonderful, I felt very alone. I wasn’t kidding when I told Kate that I stacked all the pillows I’d once thrown to the floor on Mark’s side of the bed. Doing that made my bed smaller, warmer, more…like what I’d known, and I didn’t feel so small and alone. Each night when I pushed them aside I was reminded of Jonny Diaz’s song “Thank God I Got Her.” He sings of his love for his wife and her “nine fancy pillows on our bed.” Mark had teased me about my pillows, too.

The evenings felt dark and sad, and often hard. Again, I cannot emphasize enough the consoling power of good country music. Sometimes songs make you laugh, sometimes they make you cry, and other times they meet you right where you are.

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