Epilogue
One Year Later
Life had been kicking my ass. Nothing, and I did mean nothing, could’ve prepared me for losing my wife.
That woman came into my life like a thief in the night and somehow became my air.
One minute I was used to being alone, used to moving how I wanted, breathing how I wanted, then suddenly everything in my life revolved around her.
And now she was gone. I’d been having a hard time coping.
Truthfully, I don’t even think I was coping at all.
I just woke up every day existing. I did what I needed to do for my daughter to be there for everything she needed.
On the outside looking in, I was the perfect dad.
I was even on the PTA board. I’m not going to lie, my daughter was flourishing out here.
She played flag football, which was the cutest shit I’d ever seen; she did dance, and even had an interest in art, and she was good at it.
I was basically wearing a double mask. After I showed up for Butterfly, I was right back drowning in my bullshit. Depression had been eating me the fuck up, and alcohol became my best friend. Most nights I drank until I either passed out or cried, and I can’t lie, sometimes it was both.
I haven’t painted shit in over a year. Not a fucking thing.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it, and every time I picked a brush up, I thought about my wife.
I thought about the way she used to stand in my studio wearing one of my t-shirts with her hair wrapped up, quietly watching me work like I was creating magic or some shit.
I thought about how she used to leave little affirmations, which was how she got my ass in the first place.
I was going to miss those letters she would send me.
Even after I found out who she was, I still made her promise to keep sending me my letters and she did.
I still went back and read those letters; that was one of the ways I stayed close to her.
Every time I read them, my heart ripped open. The shit fucked with me so bad.
I sold my old house after she died because it was like I was suffocating in there, and me and Butterfly needed a new start.
That beautiful girl missed the hell out of her mama, but on most days, she handled her grief better than me.
The one positive thing that I could say was our circle showed up and showed out for us.
Jaz was always here with us; sometimes she just popped up on us and stayed for a few days.
Then other times she just came down to pick up Butterfly and took her back to New York.
Zelly still stayed with us a few days a week, and Butterfly loved it when she did.
Things with my parents still weren’t back to normal, but we were healing.
Me and my pops sat down and talked. He apologized for all the things that I addressed, and told me how he wanted me to be his son regardless of my blood.
He hated the fact that I was biologically Cedrick’s kid.
I personally didn’t have any real feelings about dude because I didn’t know him.
My pops would always be my father, and as a man that’s raising a child that was not blood related, I had a newfound respect for his position.
Aside from becoming a millionaire, another positive thing that came from Cedrick, was that I was able to build a friendship with my half-brother, Avante.
We were still doing our best to figure things out, but right now he ran the day to day of our hotel chains.
Once I got my personal shit together, I’d step in.
For right now, it was best that he took the lead.
“Bruh, what are you doing down here?” Jaz asked, walking into my entertainment room.
“Shit. What are you doing here?” I shot back at her.
“I’m here for the weekend,” she said, sitting down next to me and glancing around at all the empty liquor bottles that were scattered around.
“Look, I know this shit is hard on you, it’s hard on all of us, but you gotta get it together for that little girl upstairs.
Go see somebody; you got help for Hanii.
You should’ve laid your ass on the couch with her.
Forever wouldn’t want this shit for you,” she fussed.
She was right; my Butterfly was having a hard time at first. My baby girl tried so hard to be strong, but she broke damn near every day after her mom passed.
Sometimes I would catch her talking to her mommy when she thought no one was looking.
Life just wasn’t fucking fair. That little girl lost her mama, and I lost my wife.
I still reached for Forever in the middle of the night sometimes.
“Jaz is right. It’s time to get up and get your fuckin’ life together. I’ve watched you break, and this is not how she wanted you living! That little girl needs you. Hell, we need you!” Zelly yelled with tears rolling down her face.
“Okay, okay. I’ll go see someone,” I said to them.
Once I agreed, they helped me find a doctor and I set the appointment up.
I felt bad because I knew that they were worried about me.
I figured the least that I could do was talk my shit out and try to get better.
If not for me, then for my Butterfly because I was all she had.
A few days later, I went to my first appointment, and I must say it was different, but I was feeling okay. When I made it home, Butterfly was in the kitchen swinging her feet at the island and eating a slice of pizza. The babysitter, Ms. Jerry, had just left for the day so now it was just us.
“Hey, Dad. How was your day?” Butterfly asked.
“Good, baby girl. How was yours?”
“It was okay. Can we go to Disney World?” she asked randomly, causing me to laugh because she got that shit from her mama.
Forever would always blurt out random shit while we were in the middle of a completely different conversation.
I didn’t want any problems from her biological dad, so I had Jaz help me find him, and just as Forever and I thought, he was a nothing ass nigga.
I offered him twenty grand, and he signed all rights of Butterfly over to me.
That bitch didn’t think twice when I pulled that money out.
Zelly was with me, and she wanted so bad to put a bullet between his eyes.
Butterfly was my daughter, and that's all that mattered. It’s going to be me and her forever.
I never thought I would be a single dad, but it’s my life now.
“Sure, baby girl. Your birthday is coming up, we can do it then,” I told her, grabbing the mail off the counter and going through it.
Most of it was bills, so I was about to drop the pile of mail back down, but seeing a particular handwriting damn near shook me to the core. I looked at the postmark, and it was mailed a few days ago from New York.
What the fuck!
I grabbed the letter and went downstairs for some privacy. I opened the envelope with shaky hands, feeling like I was holding my breath. The first two words damn near knocked the wind out of me.
My love,
It’s been a full year since I’ve been gone and I can only imagine how hard it’s been on you and my Hanii bear.
Kiss my baby girl for me and hold her tight.
I miss you both immensely. Tell her I love her, and that I’m so proud of her.
My love, grief is a complex thing. It comes in waves but can be so consuming it’ll knock you off your feet.
You’ll find yourself sitting down smiling then a simple scent will remind you of that person, then the next thing you know you’re sobbing uncontrollably.
If I know you, my husband, the way I know I do, then I know this past year has been filled with gut wrenching grief.
I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve isolated yourself from the rest of the world and wrapped yourself in a bubble to limit that pain.
However, the thing about pain is…it’ll DEMAND to be felt.
No matter how long it takes, it’ll somehow seep out and rear its ugly head.
And for that I humbly apologize for placing such a heavy burden on you.
I am writing you this letter to say that it’s okay for you to move on.
Moving on doesn’t erase our love story, it simply closes that chapter that we were living in.
Our memories won’t disappear, they’ll soften.
Our love doesn’t become meaningless, it becomes something that teaches and changes you.
It’s choosing peace over unhealthy attachment, growth over staying stuck, and accepting that every love doesn’t last FOREVER—even if we prayed that it did.
The love that we once shared is one I wish for every woman to experience.
Every man. Every person. You loved me wholeheartedly and unapologetically.
You were patient, overly understanding, and even allowed yourself to grow.
My flaws didn’t scare you off; you learned them, held them, and decided that I was still worth it.
Even in silence, I felt our connection. Even in distance, I felt your presence.
We both knew how our love story would end and yet you still chose me. Not blindly, but fully aware of the risks. You choosing me on my bad days and the complicated ones, made me love you even more.
Legacy, my love, my soulmate in every lifetime, you deserve a chance to love again.
You deserve to be loved again, even if your heart still remembers what it lost. You deserve a love that doesn’t feel uncertain and that can meet you where you are today.
A love that feels safe, steady, and real.
Loving again doesn’t make our past disappear or mean that I didn’t matter.
You’re allowed to open your heart without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to feel joy without comparing it. You’re allowed to choose something new without feeling like you’re betraying what was.
They say, “you only get one love in this lifetime.” But I choose not to believe that love is limited like that. I choose to believe that we get as many as we open our hearts to.
And you, my love…are worthy to be loved.
Sincerely,
Forever
P. S. Gizelle is a beautiful woman.
I was sitting here with my emotions all over the place.
I couldn’t believe that she did it to me again.
Pulling at my heartstrings. I heard what she was saying, but how the fuck could I let go of the love of my life?
My wife was gone, and I didn’t think moving on was in my plans.
I felt like when she left a part of me died with her.
And now here she was, still making her presence known.
And what the hell does she mean Gizelle is a beautiful woman?
I know that. I read that letter over and over again.
It was going to be hard as hell living without her, but I had to get my life together for my daughter.
I went into my art studio and picked up my paint brush and painted the most beautiful piece that I'd ever created, and it was of my wife in heaven. After I finished in my studio, I went upstairs and walked into my closet to find something to change into and saw a box that had my name on it. I’m not sure where the box came from or how I missed it.
It was in the back of the closet in a corner.
My heart skipped a beat because it was my wife’s handwriting.
I grabbed the box and went to sit on my bed and opened it up.
I immediately began to cry. It was a bunch of letters to me and to Butterfly, and the letters were labeled.
The ones for our baby girl were labeled as Sweet sixteen, Twenty–first birthday, your first child, your first love, your first heartbreak, the days you miss mommy the most, and Graduation.
The letters for me were labeled our birthday, Tahanii’s wedding day, a letter of affirmations, and your wedding day.
I sat here full of tears because this woman had a heart and mind that no one else possessed. She would always be my Forever More.