11. Sydney
I wasn’t prepared for the way the sweet sight out the lodge window would draw me in, keeping me locked on Blair and the small swarm of children that are spread out on the beach. Today is day one of her first three-day youth mental health wellness camp, and I’d say so far it looks like it’s going well.
Eight kids are settled, with their legs crisscrossed, on individual beach towels for this morning’s beachside grounding meditation. With their eyes closed and palms up on their knees, not only is it adorable, but they make it look so relaxing I’m half tempted to join them.
“This is great, isn’t it?” My dad appears at my side with a wistful look about him.
“Which part?” I ask, a perma-smile glued on my face.
“All of it,” he breathes, his own smile growing. “What you’re doing with this renovation. You being here. Young life out here at the lodge. It’s a beautiful thing.”
I nod into my coffee as I take a sip, not quite able to let the compliment sink in all the way, but appreciating his words, nonetheless.
“I mean it,” he insists. “Your grandparents would be so proud. They would have loved to see this.”
“That’s why I’m doing it,” I say softly, meeting his eyes. A moment of tender understanding and respect for our shared history passes between us.
“Are you ready, Dad?” Graham calls from behind us, emerging from the kitchen.
“Yup. He’s giving me a boat ride back to the mainland,” he explains to me as we head toward the front door.
“That was a quick trip,” I comment.
“Yeah, I only needed to drop off a few things for Graham. It’s time to get back to your mother.” The way he says that last word makes my heart feel like it’s ripping in two. Nothing gives me this fresh of a reminder of my grief more than when I see my dad, especially here.
“It’s good to have you here, Syd.” He slides an arm over my shoulder. It’s comforting and genuine, but I hear the words he’s holding back clear as day.
When are you going to come see your mother?
He doesn’t have to say it out loud for it to have an effect on me. Guilt crushes my chest.
Why can’t I do this?
My throat feels tight, and I bite my lip to distract myself from the emotions that threaten to overcome me as we walk onto the dock.
“It’s good to be here, Dad,” I whisper. The words only feel half true, but I say them anyway.
“Well, I’ll be back out soon,” he says as he climbs in one of the fishing boats still tied to the dock.
“I’ll be here for a while,” I remind him. Behind me, Graham gives Blair a quick kiss on the cheek before jogging to the boat. He grips my shoulder in passing as he unties the ropes and climbs in.
I wave as they take the boat out of the bay, a part of me screaming to jump in and go with. To just rip the Band-Aid off and go. But this stubborn grief keeps my feet firmly rooted in place, and I watch as the boat gets smaller until it completely disappears into the horizon.
As nice as it is to see my dad, I can never shake the nagging thought of knowing I’m disappointing him by not going to see Mom. It happens every single time.
I let my eyes drift closed, soaking in the minuscule amount of comfort the gentle wind in my hair and the warm sun on my face gives me. Blowing out a sigh, I turn and head off the dock where Blair crosses the sand to meet me at the end of it.
“Morning,” she says with a warm smile.
“Hey. Looks like the kids are having fun,” I say as upbeat as I can. The kids are each now set up in Adirondack chairs with blankets covering their laps and journals in hand.
A serene, thoughtful look comes over Blair’s face as she watches them. “Yeah, I think they are.”
I need to head back to my cabin to put the final touches on the interior design board for the cabins, but this mix of emotions swirling inside me has me reluctant to move.
“Hey, are you okay?” Blair furrows her brow.
I force a smile, but I’m not sure how genuine it comes across. “Yeah. I’m just tired, I think.”
She nods sympathetically and then starts heading back toward her campers.
“Hey, Blair,” I blurt out before she gets too far. It’s like a panic response I hardly consider before it comes out.
“Yeah?” She twists back.
Emotion surges inside me, the words all at once demanding to be let out.
“How does he do it?” I manage to squeak out, tears pricking at my eyes.
“Who? Do what?” She closes the space between us again, worry etched on her face.
“Graham,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “How can he see her like that?”
Instantly, her face softens, and sympathy creases her features. I hate getting attention like this with every fiber of my being, but at the same time, a small part of me feels relief at being vulnerable out loud with someone I know I can trust.
She reaches forward, gripping my hand gently, and gives me a reassuring smile.
“It’s not easy for him,” she says with a squeeze. “It never has been. But I think, for him, he does it because a part of him feels like it’s his duty. As a son, as a man. Graham is also a caregiver at heart, so it’s become sort of a natural thing to do. Plus, I think it helps when he brings her photos and memories—he feels like he’s caring for her somehow.”
“Yeah,” I choke out, looking away as I blink back tears. It’s not lost on me that I feel the same way about this renovation—this is me caring for it somehow. For the memories and for an important part of my past. I just don’t know why I can’t seem to do the same for her.
“It’s okay that it’s hard for you,” she says softly. “It’s okay to do what you need to do to take care of yourself. There isn’t a rule book for these kinds of situations.”
Her validation cracks me open a little bit more, and I feel a lone tear run down the side of my cheek despite my best efforts to hold it back. I swipe it away immediately and purse my lips together, giving my head a slight shake.
This is exactly what I was worried about when I decided to come back here. There are too many unresolved emotions here that are lurking and ready to pounce on me. How in the world am I going to do this every day? I’m already exhausted.
“Maybe one day you’ll be ready,” she offers gently, running her hand down my arm.
I sniffle and heave a deep breath, nodding.
“Maybe I need to borrow one of those journals you’ve got,” I joke, wiping the remaining tears from my face.
“Do you want one?” Her eyes perk up, clearly eager to help. “I have extra.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I was just kidding. Thank you, though. I’ll be alright.”
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it. We can chat more later.”
She immediately wraps me in a hug I didn’t ask for, but I feel grateful for it all the same. I grip her tightly for a squeeze and then pull back, ready to shift my focus back to work.
With one last smile, I leave her on the beach and head toward the trail that leads to the cabins on the west side of the property. As I pass by the lodge, my arms wrapped around myself, my gaze flashes up to where I could have sworn a flannel-clad figure just moved away from the window.