Epilogue
Tori
One year later.
The smell of fresh flowers hangs in the air, and the silence brings me a sense of calm.
I have avoided this place as best I could, only visiting a couple of times over the years.
I hated coming here, hated the thought of him being in the ground and unable to reach for him, see him, talk to him.
But maybe that’s because I was very much in the depths of my grief when I would visit.
Most of the time, I couldn’t get past the gate.
I was holding on to my anger and sadness like a badge of honor.
I truly believed that the sadder I was, the more it proved the lengths of my love and devotion for Trent, but now I’ve healed, I know that wasn’t the case.
Grief isn’t linear; there is no right way to heal, and I did the best I could. We should give ourselves grace when we are forced to handle a situation that we haven’t been able to prepare for, and even then, no amount of preparation could truly prepare you for losing someone you love.
I reach Trent’s grave, the headstone looking a little worn now as the years have gone by. I place the bouquet of daisies in front and sit down on the warm grass, clutching the envelope between my shaky fingers.
I have avoided this conversation for too long, and so before we pack up and leave this small town for good and with my wedding just weeks away, it feels like the right time to have it.
“Hey, Trent, I’m sorry I haven’t been here much. It just felt too hard, you know?”
I clear my throat, feeling embarrassed and silly that I am sitting here, talking to the empty space, but I know in my heart that he can hear me.
“I’m getting married today, and that’s not something I ever imagined saying. Especially to you, here.”
Emotion builds in my throat, and I look up at the sky to blink away the tears that threaten to fall.
I adjust my summer dress, cross my legs, and open up the envelope.
“I wrote you a letter, and I’m going to read it to you. But before I do, I need you to know this is the hardest thing I have ever had to write, but it’s the final piece of my healing puzzle.”
I stare down at the black ink that decorates the page, then begin to read the words.
I place the letter back in the envelope, pressing a kiss to the seal, and then lean it against his headstone and rise to my feet, giving the scene of the North Carolina hills one final glance, knowing this will be the last time I am here.
I turn on my heel and head towards my car, finally feeling free from the guilt that has stolen my ability to truly live for so long and take steps towards the rest of my life.