Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
AFTER
The day was almost perfect for it.
The sky stretched overhead in muted blue, brushed with wisps of late-summer clouds, and the sun cast a soft, golden light that filtered through the tall fir trees lining the cemetery’s path.
It was just starting to cool—the kind of shift in temperature that made the edges of your skin feel awake.
A gentle breeze swept through the gardens, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the perfume of roses that clung to the old stone walls.
Gravel crunched beneath our shoes as Atty and I walked hand in hand, past row after row of headstones. The cemetery was quiet, reverent—not silent, but hushed in that sacred way some places are, like the air itself is holding its breath.
At the top of the hill, the city fell away behind us, replaced by a view that was still and intimate. In front of us stood his tombstone—simple, elegant, and impossibly final. I tightened my grip on Atty’s hand as the weight of it all settled between us.
A slab of polished black granite rose from a bed of white marble. Federico Rossi was etched in serifed gold lettering. Beneath it, in careful script, read the words: Siempre con ustedes, incluso en el silencio.
This was the first time I had seen it.
For a second, I didn’t feel like myself. My soul had left my body and entered that of a kid—a scared, lonely kid, who had no idea how to deal with what was going on.
“I’ll wait by the tree,” Atty said, brushing a kiss over my cheek and giving my hand a quiet squeeze. I’d asked for this—for a little space to do it on my own.
I took the final few steps that brought me only a foot away from the stone, and paused.
When I used to think about cemeteries and burials, I always found them pointless. The person was gone—why visit what was left behind?
Turns out I was wrong about that. Like a lot of things.
There was a shift in energy here. Not something you could explain, but something you could feel. Like a portal between him and me. Soft but powerful. I could sense him—and not.
My fingers drifted toward my medallion, but I stopped myself, hesitating before reaching for the tomb instead, letting my hand rest on its cool surface.
“Bet you weren’t expecting me today.” I felt more than a little ridiculous talking to a slab of stone. I cleared my throat, rubbing at my nose with the back of my hand after a soft sniffle.
“Sam—my therapist—made me write a letter to you. I guess it’s mostly for me, since you’re dead and can’t actually listen to a word I’m saying.
But, you know,” I said, stopping to swallow thickly, “maybe all this bullshit is real and the joke’s on me.
Maybe you are actually listening from another plane of existence. ”
I stared at the lettering for a moment, tracing the shape of his name with my eyes.
“It’s for closure, the letter. I didn’t go to your funeral, as you might or might not know. So we never got to do the whole goodbye thing.”
Unless that hug counted. Then I guess…maybe you did.
I rubbed a hand over my eyes again before reaching for my wallet and uncrumpling the piece of paper. “I’m sorry if it’s not the best piece of literature. It wasn’t exactly easy to write.” I cleared the knot from my throat again before looking down at the page.
“There’s a lot you taught me. Some of it came from a good place.
Some of it…didn’t. But I want to thank you, either way,” I began, pausing to breathe deeply.
“Thank you for teaching me about music. Our shared love of it meant more to me than you ever knew. And now, my life is starting to revolve around it. I’m so thankful you bet me I couldn’t do both—like Phil—because I proved you wrong.
Big time.” A smile tugged at the corners of my lips.
“Thank you for taking the time to get to know me, and for pushing me to be a better person, to learn things I thought were past my capabilities.
“Thank you for teaching me to be independent.” My voice caught. “This isn’t one of the good ones, but I’m still grateful. It forced me to learn how to fend for myself, even if it took me a very fucking long time to figure it out.
“And thank you for teaching me how to defend myself,” I added, the words heavier.
My eyes blurred again, and I blinked fast to clear them, swallowing around the ache in my throat.
“I really wish this one was one of the good ones. But I’m going to say this anyway—I forgive you.
For not always believing me. For dismissing what was happening.
I wished you would have fought for me, at least once.
But I get that you wanted to see the good in people, in her.
And I’m trying to do that too. I’m trying really hard to not let the anger take over. ”
I braced myself for the last part. Took one more breath.
“Thank you for showing me how easy it would be for me to fall into the worst version of myself. You loved pointing it out—just like her, just like everyone else—how similar we are. And it took me a long time to separate myself from that idea. That my inevitable end was to be like her. That I’d never be able to learn.
That I’d eventually end up hurting everyone around me. ”
I exhaled, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I won’t ever be like her. But I could be. So thank you for showing me that. Even if it hurt like hell to hear you say it without realizing just how much it did.”
I cleared my throat, fighting back the emotions again. “Thank you for teaching me about regret and how to make amends. I’m also still working on that one, but I think I’m crushing it right now.”
My fingers held onto the paper a little tighter.
“And thank you for showing me that life is worth living. After you were gone, I spent so much time wishing I was right there with you. It took me a long time to find something—anything—to hold onto. But I think I finally found it. I found happiness. And I don’t think I would appreciate it the way I do if I didn’t know how deep the trenches can go. How dark it can get.”
I sniffled, brushing the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
“So…thank you. For helping me see the good things. I’m not taking this gift for granted. Not ever again.”
Carefully, I folded the paper and tucked it back into my pocket.
“I met the love of my life, Dad.” My voice softened. “He’s a good man—the best man in the world. And I think you would’ve loved him too. For me.”
A small breath escaped as I smiled through the ache in my chest. “He sees something in me—that same thing you used to. Something I’m still trying to see for myself.
I wish you could’ve met him. I wish you were still around for this and for so many other things.
And maybe I’ll never stop missing you…but that’s okay. ”
My voice cracked, and I took a deep breath to steady it. “I’ll carry you with me. Always. Even if…this is goodbye.”
That word broke me. My face scrunched as I tried, uselessly, to hold the tears back. But they were already there, streaking my skin. So I gave in. Let the pain come.
The ache of his absence wrapped around me—his rough laughter, the way he’d dish out quiet wisdom, or just argue about my song choices.
The shape of his hands, the coarse hair on his arms. The medallion now around my neck, how it used to rest against his chest. That old-man cologne that lingered after he left a room.
I sank to my haunches and pressed my forehead to the cold stone. My tears fell soundlessly into the grass, swallowed by the wind and the hush of the afternoon.
And then Atty was there.
His arms wrapped gently around me as he knelt behind me, holding me close. I shut my eyes and smiled through the tears.
See? I told you he was the best man.
I let myself fall back into his arms, and we sat together, my back pressed against him and his arms crossed over my chest, protecting me.
The lettering on the stone was beautiful. The whole place was. Quiet. Peaceful. A good place for him. Somewhere I could come back to if I ever needed it.
I leaned forward once more, pressing my hand to the stone. “Te amo, Papá,” I whispered, the words long overdue but finally spoken.
Goodbye.
I sat back, and Atty held me, my fingers clasped around the medallion over my heart. We stayed there for a while, in the same reverent silence, just breathing, just being—with him, and without him—until our limbs went numb and the afternoon began to settle around us like a second skin.
The pain was still there. But so was love.
And maybe that was enough for now.
The days were starting to grow short, and before we knew it, the sun had already begun to set.
We returned to the hotel emotionally drained, the weight of the day clinging to our skin.
Atty moved around the room, quietly tidying up, while I sat at the edge of the bed, watching him in silence. Wondering.
He folded our clothes neatly, tucking each piece into the closet, even though we only had one night left in Seattle. It wasn’t necessary, not really, but it was so him that it brought an easy smile to my lips.
“Atty,” I said, drawing his attention. His brows lifted, waiting. “What do you want?”
He looked at me for a beat, then asked, “Right now?”
I shook my head. “Like, from life. What do you want?”
His eyes drifted from mine, scanning the space between us, then he shrugged. “That’s a very open-ended question. Want to narrow it down?”
I slumped onto my back, legs still dangling off the side of the bed. “Volleyball,” I settled on.
The mattress shifted as he joined me, propping himself up on his elbow. “I’m going to play this year, but I’ll probably stop after college. I don’t think I’ll go pro.”
“Really?” I paused, letting that settle. That surprised me.
He nodded. “I’d still want it to be part of my life—maybe coach, or play for fun. But after college, I want to focus on work. Get a good internship. Find a job I actually enjoy. That kind of thing.”
“That makes sense. Responsible.”