Chapter 8
Khenji
I told myself I would never come back to the memorial gardens where my mother is buried. The last time I visited, nearly fifteen years ago, it threw me into a state of psychosis. I couldn’t function for days – could hardly breathe. Why? Because her death is my fault.
But here I am, back to where she’s resting in peace. That’s my only solace. That she’s at peace.
I had Amos drop me off. I told him to leave, but he refused – stating he’d wait at the end of the driveway entrance due to the impending storm. The clouds are rolling in. I wouldn’t care if the floodgates opened right now. This is where I need to be.
I’m hoping my time alone with her will provide some sort of clarity for my current state. At the moment, it’s only encompassed me with sadness and pain as I relive the many times I saw her cry. The times she begged my father to stop hitting her. She stayed with him in the name of love. And it was love that ultimately took her life.
Blinking back tears, I brush the grass from her grave and place flowers there. Then I sit down on the ground in a three-piece suit, drop my head and cry.
What I wouldn’t give to hold her hand again. To hear her voice. All I have left of her are memories. The good ones are fading. The bad ones are vivid and haunting. My mother didn’t deserve what happened to her. She was a good, Christian woman. She kept me in line. Kept me encouraged. And then she met a man who sold her the dream of a good life. She thought he was a good man and soon found out she was wrong. I knew it when I was about four years old. As a perceptive child, I figured out things weren’t right with my father because my mother stayed crying. Even when he left the house, her hands trembled because she knew the moment he returned, she would be the object of his rage. He was the true definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The only thing good about the man was the day he died.
I sniffle and wipe my eyes. I say, “Hello, Mother. It’s me. I know I haven’t been here in a very long time, but my heart couldn’t take the constant visits. The pain of losing you…is—”
I sniffle, clear my throat and then continue, “It’s unbearable down to this day. I don’t know how I’m doing this without you. Living, that is. You’re supposed to be here. You were supposed to see me graduate high school and college—to see me make something of myself, get married and have children. Those are things I made myself not want—marriage and children—because you’re not around to witness it. Plus, what kind of man would I be to a woman? I would be just like my father was to you. I can’t be that man. I can’t.”
More tears fall. “I didn’t protect you. When it was all said and done, everything was my fault. I’m the reason you’re not here. It’s—it’s all my fault, Mother.”
I cry openly and without inhibition because I’m tormented by what happened to my mother. It’s a pain I’ll never be able to release. It will be with me as long as I have breath in my body.
“You told me you would always be there for me, even when you weren’t around, but I’m losing memories of you. I fight hard to keep your face in my mind, but all I have is—”
I take out the pocket watch she gave me. She said it was my grandfather’s. I never got a chance to meet him. He died before I was born and my grandmother died a year after he did. So, this watch is something I hold dear to my heart. My family has touched it. My mother has touched it, and she entrusted it to me. I’ll forever cherish it. In a way, she is still with me because of this watch. It’s the most valuable thing I own.
I dry my eyes and reflect on how small I am compared to everything – the universe, the earth and my place in this world. I’m humble enough to know that the billionaire with everything has nothing at all.
I say, “I met someone.” I pinch tears from my eyes and blow a breath to relieve the pressure in my abdomen. “Her name is Livia.”
Just saying Livia’s name makes my tears dry up. I continue, “It’s different, I know, but I like it. She’s beautiful in all the ways a person can be beautiful. I don’t know how she wants anything to do with me, but she does. She likes me. She likes me a lot, and um…I’m struggling to take the next step with her because I saw what love did to you. I don’t want that for her. I don’t want to hurt her, Mother. I love her, but I love her so much, I will walk away from her before I become the man my father was. I’m conflicted because I care for her and I don’t want to walk away. I don’t know what to do. I just—I need a sign. I need to know if she is what I need—if I’m ready for this.”
The breeze picks up slightly while the temperature drops. I look up at the sky, watching thick patches of clouds pass over me. With my face still to the sky, I take a deep breath and close my eyes, breathing with intention and being here in the moment. A raindrop splatters on my forehead.
I release a breath after I stand up, then brush the dirt off of my pants and say, “I love you, Mother. Forever.”
I kiss the pocket watch and place it in the breast pocket of my suit jacket. Then I walk down the paved road to where Amos is parked. A rumble of thunder rolls into the atmosphere. The rain is coming down a bit harder now. I don’t hurry to get to the car. I let the rain refresh me. It’s soothing. It brings a calmness over me. The wind, however, is gusty, sending grass, twigs, dirt and leaves into the air. I put my hand to my face to shield my eyes, and when I finally make it to the car, I slide into the backseat and quickly close the door.
“That storm rolled in fast, didn’t it?” Amos asks.
“It did,” I tell him. “I have enough storms to worry about to be concerned with the weather.”
“Anything you care to talk about, sir?”
“No.”
Amos sets the wipers on the highest setting then change lanes. He says, “I thought we would make it back before everything jumped off.”
“It’s fine. We need the rain. It cleanses the atmosphere. It makes us reflect.”
“That it does.”
I lean back in my seat and stare out of the window, thinking about my mother. I smile when I remember how loving she was – how she took care of me as a child. I can’t talk to her any longer – can’t hear her voice, but she’ll always be in my heart.
I seek my phone, checking my pants first to see if it’s there when a leaf falls onto my lap. I pick it up and look at it. It’s shaped like a heart. My hands immediately start shaking. I asked for a sign. For some direction. Here it is. A moment of clarity.
My mother is still with me. She’s alive in my soul. My memories of her are not forgotten. They’re just fading – fading because she wants me to move on and make new memories. Happier ones. And now, I know for a fact that Livia is the woman I need to do that with. It’s the reason I couldn’t take my eyes off her at the mixer. It’s why we met. She’s my one, and it’s time for me to start acting like it.
I take the pocket watch from my pocket and kiss it. “Thank you, Mother. Thank you.”
“Did you say something, sir?”
“I was talking to myself, Amos.”
“One of your favorite things to do, eh?”
“Yeah, but not for long, my friend. Not for long.”