“I know, but right now that almost feels more overwhelming than dealing with this on my own.”
Mom’s heartfelt sigh carries down the line clearly. “I understand. Just know we love you, and we’re here for you, Dad and me, and Aunt Rose. Anytime you need us. Don’t be a stranger, okay, sweet girl?”
“I won’t. I promise,” I reply.
“All right then. Well, take care, and I’ll chat with you later. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Throwing my phone back in my purse, I knock back a healthy swig of my drink and contemplate the dumpster fire that is my life currently.
2
BEAR
The cemetery is quiet for a Saturday. As I walk between the headstones, I see familiar names that have greeted me year after year. And I note the new ones that weren’t here the last time I was.
It’s interesting to see how this place has changed over the past twenty years.
It’s always heartbreaking to see the little headstones with their short dates. Lives over before they’ve even had a proper chance to start. It’s the same as when we’re deployed to countries torn apart by war. The babies that are casualties, ripped from this world before they get the chance to actually live.
Stopping at my mother’s headstone, I run a hand over the cold marble that marks her final resting place. It took me a while to save up for it, but I wanted only the best for the woman who protected me at every turn, no matter the personal cost to her.
I miss her as much today as when she left me.
I brush away leaves and debris that’s scattered around and gently place the bouquet I’ve brought at the base of the marker. Sinking to the grass, I simply sit for a while, soaking in the peace of my surroundings. Not even feeling the slightest bit embarrassed – in fact, I don’t give a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks – I start to talk to my mom.
I tell her about all the things going on in my life, about our most recent mission – yeah, that one went south, fast – and all the other things on my mind. When she was alive, I could go to her with anything, tell her anything. She never judged me, only gave me her honest, motherly opinion.
God, I miss her.
“You probably know by now, but I got notification yesterday they’re releasing Dad. For good behavior. Ha. Bullshit.” I hang my head and contemplate the grass beneath my feet. “It isn’t right. They should’ve locked his ass up and thrown the key away.”
Almost as if she were seated beside me, I hear my mother’s voice in my head. Clear as day. “You should forgive him, my boy. This hatred you have for your father will only continue to eat at you. Forgiveness isn’t for the other person, it’s for us.”
Her voice seems so real I actually look around me, to see if she’s somehow materialized out of thin air. All I can do is laugh at myself for my flight of fancy. A bitter laugh at my wishful thinking.
Honestly, I know the voice in my head is right. For my own good, I should forgive him and move on. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t seem to move on from this point. Like I’m stuck in a loop, to forever repeat this cycle of hate and rage I’ve harbored against the man – not just for the past two decades, but probably most of my life.
“I wish I were more like you, Mama. That I could lay this burden down and move on.”
I watch the pattern of light change as it dances across the leaves of the trees that surround the cemetery, time passing quickly as I spend time talking to my mom as if she were still here and not gone twenty years today.
Finally, a family with young children breaks the silence. Who brings small children to a place like this? Shaking my head, I get to my feet, once again placing my hand on the marble.
“I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back when I can.” I take a step back. “I love you, Mama.”
Avoiding eye contact with the young family, I make my way back to my vehicle. As I climb behind the wheel, my phone rings. I’m poor company and not in the mood to talk to anyone anyway, so I let it ring to voicemail. It’s barely rung off when it starts up again.
Repeating the process, I reverse out of my parking spot and contemplate the rest of my day. Stopped at the sign at the end of the parking lot, I look down at my cellphone, laying on the seat beside me where I tossed it when I got in.
Lucky’s name flashes on the screen of my phone for the third time in a row. Considering what today is, I know he’d understand that I’m in the worst mood and why I don’t have it in me to engage right now. Once again, the phone goes quiet for a moment, and then it chimes an incoming message.
Lucky: So help me God, asshole, if you don’t either answer my call or send me a message telling me you’re okay, I’m coming over there to kick your ass.
I can’t help but smile at that. I thank my lucky stars for him every day. Lucky has been my savior more times than I care to own up to, and he doesn’t even know it. Knowing that if I don’t reply he’ll make good on his threat, I dash off a quick text to him before returning to my brooding.
Another chime tells me he’s replied, pulling me from my morbid thoughts yet again.
