35 Gabriel
35
Gabriel
“I realized something,” I said as I walked into Mom’s office one Friday night. “About life.”
She looked confused as I approached her. She put the paperwork in her hands down on her desk. “And what’s that?”
I sat in the chair across from her. “It’s fucking hard.”
A small, uncertain smile lifted her lips. “It is.”
“And nobody knows what they’re doing. Not really.”
“That’s also true.”
“I think we’re all just trying our best while battling the storms. You were drowning after Dad and Elijah, and you did whatever you thought you had to do in order to somehow get back to shore. I can’t say I would’ve done what you did, but then again, I’m not you. I’ve never had to walk in your shoes. I’ve never had to bury my partner and a son. I don’t know what that would do to my psyche if I had to. I’m still processing all of this and it will take time, but with everything that has happened, I need you to know one thing.”
“And that is?”
“I love you.”
“Oh, Gabriel…” she whispered as her body shook slightly.
“Even when I’m mad. Even when I’m distant and processing all of this, I still love you.”
Tears began streaming down her face as she shook her head. “I don’t deserve that love.”
“Yes, you do. We all deserve love.”
“Even those who mess up so deeply and will regret their choices for the rest of their lives?”
“Maybe they deserve a little bit more love than others.” I stood from my chair and walked over to her side. I bent down and kissed her forehead. “Just be honest from here on out, all right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, good. Now come on.” I held a hand out toward her. “Let’s go get dinner.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have a lot of work to do. You never make time for dinner.”
“I’m realizing work isn’t everything. I figured I should make time for those who matter the most.”
She placed her hand in mine and I helped her up. “Thank you, Gabriel.”
“Always.” I pulled her into a hug. “Kierra has letters that she’s written to Elijah every week since he passed away. I figured you and I could read through them together to help us remember him. I want to know as much about him as I can.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “She wrote him letters?”
“Yes. Every week. She loved him.”
Her eyes grew teary and she nodded. “She did.” She fiddled with her hands before saying, “I should probably take you to the storage unit, too.”
“The storage unit?”
“It’s where I had all his things stored over the years. I have to advise you, though, whenever I go there, I end up crying.”
“That’s okay, Mom. This time will be better.”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably still cry.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “but this time when you cry, you won’t have to cry alone.”