Love In The Beauty: A Memoir

By Schirra Simmons

About the Author: 

Schirra Simmons has a passion for helping others-whether family, those he works with or others in need.

At age 23, Schirra Simmons received full custody of his son, who was only six months old. A big believer in marriage's beauty, he didn't give up on finding love, despite having lost one relations

• Language: English
• Publisher: Schirra Simmons
• Release date: Apr 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087960142

Book preview

LOVE IN THE BEAUTY

by

Schirra Simmons

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Copyright © 2020 Schirra Simmons.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

ISBN:  978-1087914466 (Paperback)

Book design by Natalia Junqueira

Printed in the United States of America.

First printing edition 2020.

Exquisiteque Publishing

P.O. Box 627

Slidell, Louisiana, 70459

This book is dedicated to:

This book is dedicated to my beloved wife, Shana Marie Simmons. It was her strength, determination, love and faith that made everything I do today possible. I will always love you!

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Ring of the Past

Chapter 2 - The Fire of the Lover

Chapter 3 - Dream on the Mist

Chapter 4 - Truth of Tears

Chapter 5 - The Gift of the Husband

Chapter 6 - The Mist of the Carcinoma

Chapter 7 - The Fallen Dream

Chapter 8 - The Tale of the Beauty

Chapter 9 - The Spirit of the Lover

Chapter 10 - Truth in the Tears

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Chapter 1

Ring of the Past

It was time to let go, so she could have the peace she deserved. On the day that I was to bury my wife, I woke up and laid on my grandparents’ bed, staring into space. It was seven days before Valentine’s Day, and twenty days to her 30th birthday. The room was clouded in darkness because the sun hadn’t risen, but it soothed me in an odd way. My heart was filled with pain. I didn’t want to let her go, I wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be – but she deserved to be laid to rest. To find true love is rare, yet I had found it, and now that I had lost her, nothing could fill the void in my life. Four years ago, I’d lost my granddad to cancer. I remember spending the night in my grandmother’s home because she no longer made use of her bed; since granddad passed away, she preferred his recliner chair. 

My heart suddenly lifted, and I felt a presence in the room, moving through the atmosphere, comforting me and filling up the hole in my heart. The sinking feeling in my stomach slowly vanished and the bitter taste in my mouth disappeared. I hadn’t slept for days as it felt like the world was on my shoulders but now, I felt something stir inside of me, repairing my broken heart. I sensed the spirit of my grandfather—and the presence of God. 

I emerged from the bed with a thought: I need a solitary rose to put in Shana’s hands. 

The thought of giving my wife a beautiful burial renewed my energy. I strolled through the dim house and I heard my grandmother say, We need cakes for the repass, she was thinking ahead to make sure we were prepared for the upcoming service. There was so much to do and so little time. 

I snatched my keys, taking off through the entryway. The store wouldn't open for another thirty minutes but the drive would do me some good. Saying goodbye to the woman of your dreams is one of the hardest things one can live through. When the store opened, I made my way into Winn Dixie, uncertain which cake to buy; consequently, I simply got one of each flavor. As I strolled to the register, I spotted the flower area. There it was—the miniature, red rose boutonnière—an image of our love to wear on my midnight blue tuxedo coat. I also noticed a container of single roses and then it hit me that I was doing what Shana and I used to do in our home every week, buying blossoms. 

I kept the vase loaded with assorted types.  The shop reminded me of her, of her laughter, and her sparkling eyes whenever we were buying flowers. I pictured her standing close to the vase, leaning over to sniff it like she used to do, and I felt a sharp pain in my heart.  Shana was a beautiful woman with a large heart and a smile that always made my heart race. 

I stopped at the corner store before heading back to my grandmother's home. I needed something to remove the agony. Something strong. I poured my liquor into an espresso mug and gulped it down, but it did nothing. The pain was still there. Maybe it would never go away. I was shaken so I went into my room and sat on the bed, looking at her pictures on my phone, feeling the ache in my heart grow until it seemed like it would explode. I was grateful when my cousin, BJ, showed up to support me; then my eight-year-old son Lil’ Schirra got dressed. I put my earpiece on and started playing I Wanna Be, by Chris Brown, putting it on repeat; the piano organization is magnificent. My grandmother walked into the room, standing at the door, watching me. 

It’s time, she said. 

I peered out my window and saw the white limousine that would take us to the church for the service. I nodded because I didn’t want to break down in front of her. She left the room and gently shut the door. My mind wandered off, drifting like a cloud in the sky, I couldn’t control it. I didn’t want to remember or feel the pain of watching her slowly die without being able to help her. I wanted to take her pain upon me because she had been through so much, but I could only comfort her and hold her in my arms when she got too sick. My life was broken, the day Shana died flashed across my mind. I couldn’t help reliving it all over again…

My darling, my wife, life partner and best friend, Shana Simmons, took her final breath 

on January 31st, 2020, at the age of 29. I was 31. At 3:52 a.m. Heaven gained another angel. I know if God opened my eyes, I’d see the new wings she had gained and the heavenly robes on her as the trumpets played her tune. Shana’s death left me numb, and in pain. I thought about the happy moments we had, the dreams she’d never be able to accomplish and the beautiful smile I’d never get to see anymore.

The night before she passed away, I sat outside the hospital in my 2019 Ford Fusion, thinking and feeling so helpless. I wondered what I could do differently and how I could help her. I had just returned from a day-long meeting with the hospice care staff to discuss the next steps for my wife – she was dying a slow painful death and it was heartbreaking to watch her fade away. I knew I was losing her, and I desperately wanted to save her. 

Worn out and baffled, I had no sense of direction.

I had never encountered this experience before, being in a place where a person was waiting to die, some alone and others sharing a room. I just wanted to wrap my hands around Shana and keep her safe, protect her and take away her pains. Alcohol couldn’t help my pain and praying didn’t stop it either. I felt like a failure, like a leaf being tossed in the air with no direction. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t save my wife and I also felt guilty because I couldn’t fulfill any of the promises, I’d made to her. "You’ll be fine, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you are back to your old self." 

No wonder she looked at me that day and smiled. Shana knew what I didn’t know at the time: I couldn’t save her. The walk from the foyer to her room was the longest journey I’ve ever taken, despite the short distance. My legs were moving but it seemed like I was rooted to the spot; how do I face my wife? How do I look into her eyes and be her strength when I was already so broken? Shana had requested to be taken back home, she was tired of hospital beds and she wanted to die in her own bed. 

All I could hear in my mind was her sweet voice asking me to please help her get out of the bed. With her watery eyes piercing mine, she uttered, Help me, as she attempted to lift herself up. Due to her declining health, moving her home would be fatal. She would not make it that far—to Slidell, Louisiana. 

I could see that time was running out. The hospital made it clear she could no longer stay there; we had to move her. Agreeing to that move was like signing her death certificate. I learned of the only hospice facility within a few miles from the hospital where she was staying. I began to ask God, If this is it, will you take her now? She had consistently been against the idea of entering another hospice because she wanted to be at home, and