Chapter 48 Riggs
FORTY-EIGHT
RIGGS
It’s my dad’s birthday, and I'm going to visit my mom. She’s been handling things better lately. The combination of therapy and a great circle of friends, especially Aunt Lane and Paige Mills, has allowed her to grieve in a healthier way. I’ve been staying at my apartment again at her request.
I walk into the kitchen and smell my favorite meal, which is breakfast for dinner.
French toast, bacon, and eggs are all laid out on the table.
Only two settings are set out instead of our normal three, and that hits hard.
Grief is so odd. There are days when memories trigger happiness, but right now, it’s a gut punch, and sadness envelops me for a moment.
Hearing Mom singing in the kitchen pulls me out of it.
She hasn’t sung since Dad passed. It gives me hope.
“Oh, Riggs! I didn’t hear you come in. Get over here and hug your momma.” I do as she says and receive a perfect Nora Hart hug, which has been a staple in my life. We walk over to the table and sit down to eat.
“How are you doing today, Mom?” I ask, knowing she will probably say she’s fine, even if she’s not.
“Today has been a better day. It’s hard to wake up without your daddy next to me and be alone in this house.
But he reminds me that he is still here each day in his own way.
Just this morning, I received a flower delivery that he had set up before he passed away.
The card said ‘Know I’m missing you as much as you are missing me.
Live well. Love our boy.’ And well, that is just Joel Hart for you.
He takes care of me even when he isn’t here.
” She has a few tears welling up in her eyes, and I realize I do as well.
“Wow, Mom. That is just, well, it’s so Dad. You’re right. I’m glad today has been a good day for you, but I worry about you being here alone. I can get out of my lease if you need me to be here, and I really don’t mind the commute—”
She cuts me off before I even finish. “No, Son. You’re meant to be right where you are.
I have wonderful neighbors, plus Paige, Jake, and many more who I can rely on.
You are to focus on basketball, graduation, and that sweet girl of yours.
” I nod, dropping it because she will not be swayed.
Nora Hart is nothing if not stubborn to the core.
“Honey, I have something to give you, and I felt like tonight would be the best night, since it’s Dad’s birthday and all.
Before your dad passed, he gave me a box with letters inside, all addressed to you.
He wrote something for you on different occasions throughout your life, and even a few for potential grandkids.
He wanted to give you a part of him to hold on to.
” Now I’m full-blown crying. Of course, my dad would think about the future.
She continues talking as she hands me a box with an envelope sitting on top. I go to grab the envelope, but she reaches and swipes it first.
“Oh, that one isn’t for you,” she says with a sad smile on her face.
“Who is it for?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Don’t you worry about it. I’m going to deliver it myself. You go ahead and open your box.” I accept her explanation and pull the lid off.
Seeing my dad’s handwriting hits me straight in the chest. I read “For Senior Night” on the front of the first envelope and chuckle despite my tears.
Then I flip to the next one and see “For the Big Dance.” Throughout my entire life, March has always been a fun month in our household.
The NCAA tournament has many names, but my dad always referred to it as “the big dance,” and he would spin my mom around anytime he brought it up.
I’m not surprised in the least to see that is what he chose to write.
“Sweet boy, take this home with you and read it tonight or tomorrow, just do it sometime before the game. I want you to enjoy this time because it’s special.
I can’t believe it’s already your Senior Night.
And don’t you worry, I’ll be there with bells on.
” I give her a nod, staring at the envelope in front of me.
This letter contains words from my dad. Not old memories to look back on, but a new one.
I never thought I’d have anything else from him.
It’s like discovering treasure; each letter will be a precious gem that I will hold on to for the rest of my life.
Hugging my mom goodbye, I climb into my car, placing the box of letters in the passenger seat.
I pick up my phone, wanting to text Reagan, but I immediately put it down. What would I even say to her right now? She probably wouldn’t respond and just leave me on read, and I would deserve it.
Instead, I start my car and drive back to my quiet apartment. I pull up game film on our next opponent and watch it until my eyes are heavy and I drift off to sleep.