52. Epilogue
Dear Seb,
Today, the spot beside me was empty.
The spot where you would’ve stood, had you still been alive. I can imagine it now. You, in your black suit, winking at a girl in the audience you planned to woo later that night, fumbling when the pastor asked you for the ring in your pocket. It’d probably be as funny as it was watching Jessica with her space buns toddle down the aisle in her lime green dress, stumbling side to side as Tilly coached her down the path.
It was a small wedding, exactly how Tilly and I wanted. Pink-and purple-colored flowers filled the short aisle leading to the arbor I built out back, and each table had a plate filled with little desserts Tilly baked. Your niece drew pictures we framed as table numbers, and to be honest, I think with her illegible handwriting, she may be following in your footsteps as a doctor.
Nora, along with Shantel and her family, Tilly’s father and girlfriend, and a few friends I made from the reality show were the only ones in attendance. I haven’t spoken to Mom, Dad, or Claire since I told them why you were really there at that gas station, and to be honest, I don’t think I ever will again. I know people always say you’ll regret cutting ties with family, regret all the things you didn’t say or the time you’ll miss with them, but I won’t. I have an amazing family, one who loves me, who is supportive and encouraging, and will never make me feel like I’m less than. I only wish you were here to be part of that family.
I still have your poker chip. Well…kind of. I wanted to throw it in the garbage disposal and grind it to pieces, but Tilly reminded me it’s all I have left of you. But that’s not entirely true. I have memories, good ones, of us growing up, laughing together, spending time with you and Jessie after school. Memories I look back on often as I consider begging Tilly for another child.
Jessica is two years old now, and I don’t want her to grow up without a sibling. I want her to have someone to play with, someone she can teach things like you taught me, someone she can run to when things get rough and she needs to talk. That’s what these letters to you have always done for me. I know it’s not the same, but having you to talk to, even though you can’t talk back, has helped me get through a lot, helped me let go of the heavy burdens I’ve been carrying around for too damn long.
Anyway, Tilly surprised me by taking the picture of you and I from on top of the fireplace and having someone woodwork a frame where your poker chip would fit, and she placed it on a chair in the front row along with a candle. She wanted to make sure I knew you’d always be there, even if you weren’t actually here. I know what you’re thinking, ‘she’s amazing, and hot,’ but too bad, bro, she’s taken. She’s mine, and I’m never letting her go.
-Arch