It’s the sound of devastation.
Of my life changing.
Of a little girl irrevocably changed.
Why did you do this, Dad?
It hurts to breathe.
You broke us.
My head dizzies.
You broke her.
My eyes burn so much, but I have no more tears to cry.
What if I can never put her back together again?
I hate you for this, Daddy.
“I don’t hate you,” I murmur. “I just don’t understand though. Even all these years later. I don’t understand.”
The tears fall past my eyelashes, the hurt so strong. Even though it’s been two decades since I was forced to say goodbye.
No, I don’t hate my dad. How could I? But I’m pissed he robbed me and Mom of more years with him. Of more time. God, I’ve missed you, Dad.
The breeze picks up and a leaf tumbles across his plot until it lands on my mom’s.
I smile. It’s almost as if he’s telling me it’s okay to leave him for my mom. I press a kiss to my fingers and touch his headstone before shifting and looking at my mom’s headstone.
It’s more elaborate than his. Garland went all out on it. What was it like for him to bury the woman he loved next to her first love instead of somewhere the two of them could be together?
I never really thought about that. About what he gave up so he could give her this. About how he loved her even while knowing she’d always loved another man more.
The thought sits with me as I rearrange the flowers I brought for her in the permanent vase affixed to her headstone.
I don’t think I could do the same. I don’t think I could love someone like Fordham while knowing he loved another woman more.
Maybe I’ve been so jaded by grief for so long that I never stopped to consider the kind of man Garland is. The person he was for her when he probably needed and wanted so much more.
“He still thinks about you, Momma. Just like I do. Every minute of every day.”
I stop fussing with the flowers and shift to lean against the marble slab.
I hate this place.
I hate that it’s here that I learned all about true and utter loneliness. About devastation.
I hate that it’s peaceful here. Peaceful in a way that lulls you to sleep with a gentle breeze in your hair and the rustle of leaves overhead.
Because it shouldn’t be peaceful.
It’s the place where dreams are broken and hearts are shattered.
It’s where you realize more than anywhere else in the world just how dark and lonely death is. How permanent it is. How many scars it leaves behind. Every time.
I hate this place.
It makes every part of me riot inside—my heart, my soul, my being.
Garland stands beside me, his sunglasses on, with one hand resting on the mahogany coffin. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t speak. He just stares at his hand in silence before dipping his head ever so slightly in one last goodbye before taking a step back.
He pauses and squeezes my shoulder before walking away to give me time with her.
To let me do the one thing I’m not prepared to do—say goodbye.
I’ve tried to hold it together. I’ve tried to be the adult once again in a situation I should have never been in once, let alone twice.
But as I stand here and stare at the casket, all I can think is what I would give for one last hug. To listen to her whisper “I love you” in my ear as we did. To lean back and see the pride and love in eyes that are the same color as mine.
“Why did you leave me?” I whisper to the wind. “You were all I had left. What do I do now? How do I go on? How do I . . . live?”
The tears come. It’s no use holding them back. I’ve already screamed and yelled and cursed God and everything in between for taking her. For having to go on without her.
I lean over and press my lips to the wooden lid, warm from the sun’s rays. I hate how much she’ll miss. How much I’ll miss her. How I’m supposed to live without her. Because this time, I have no one to hold me while I cry.
There are no shoulders to lean into.
I can feel the loss sink into me. The fear to love without dreading the loss that comes after, enveloping me.
Because why try?
“I know you were brave enough to love again, Mom, but I’m not. I’ll never be as brave as you were.”
I never want to feel this way again.
Ever.
The breeze picks up again and the leaf that tumbled by earlier comes back the other direction and hits my leg.
“You trying to tell me something, Mom?” I smile through the tears, wondering what she would have looked like now. Fine lines and gray hairs she’d fuss over when they peeked through. Rumblings over why I’m not married and when I’ll give her grandkids.
Normalcy.
Things I’ve been robbed of.
Things I fear more than anything.
I met a man, Momma. He’s kind and funny and handsome . . . and he believes in me more than I do sometimes.
I love him.
I love him, and I’m so damn terrified that by loving him, I’m going to lose him. I can’t do this to him. To his family.
I just can’t . . .
The tears come harder now as I lean my head back and let the warmth of the sun dry them from my cheeks. But I don’t think they’ll ever stop. They never have in a sense.
There’s such an irony that this place brings me such peace when it’s also the place where my life fell apart. I watched my mom’s face and body crumble as we said goodbye to my dad here. I had to say goodbye to her here too.
This is where I learned that love was too dangerous for your heart.
This is where I accepted that I would never let myself love anyone again.
I open my eyes to see the leaf picked up by the wind so it dances through the air a few feet off the ground.
I smile because in watching it, I can hear her voice. It’s faded over time, but right now it feels so real and loud and alive.
It’s okay to love him.
It’s okay to fear losing him.
But it’s not your love that’s causing this.
It’s not your fault.
I shake my head as if this is a two-way conversation and not just in my head. My fingers continue to trace, my thoughts continue to spin, and my heart still aches.
“If that’s true, then give me a sign, Mom. Give me a sign.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Ford
“You okay, brother?” Ledger asks. “You sound like shit.”
“She left.”
“Like to go to the store?”
“No. She left, left.”
“Left, left?”
“Yup,” I say with a sigh.
“What the fuck did you go and do this time?” he asks with a chuckle.
“I almost died.”
His laugh is louder, almost as if I’m joking. “Bullshit.”
“No. I’m serious. Everyone she’s ever loved has died, Ledge. Everyone. It wasn’t until she said that to me that I’d thought about it.”
“So she’s afraid if she loves you, she’s going to lose you again and—”
“And she can’t handle losing anyone else.”
“Jesus. I don’t even—”
“The goddamn epilogue . . .”
“What?” he asks, confusion laced through his tone as I finally put the missing piece into place.