Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I narrowed my eyes and looked at Eric. “You’ve been talking to my dad?”
“Yeah. We’ve become pretty good friends. Had some great heart-to-hearts.” He walked over to me and patted me on the back. “He’s a good man with a great son. I figured you both might want to watch the sunrise together. I’ve gotta get back to town.”
Eric squeezed my shoulder before walking off.
“Eric,” I called out.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything,” I said.
He smiled his daughter’s smile, which only made me miss Starlet more. “Anything for my daughter. Which means anything for you.”
He walked off, saying his goodbye to Dad before leaving us standing there alone with the sound of the woods and flowing water.
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m currently debating if Eric’s real or if he’s that damn angel from It’s a Wonderful Life.” He snickered.
I gave him a half grin. “That was Mom’s favorite Christmas movie.”
He frowned and nodded. “Yeah. It was.” He gestured toward the bench. “Can I sit?”
“Of course. It’s your bench, after all.”
He took a seat, and I sat beside him. I watched as his fingers traced the initials he and Mom carved into the wood. He sniffled a bit and cleared his throat. “Thirty-four days.” I raised an eyebrow. “Thirty-four days sober. I know it doesn’t sound that impressive, but—”
“It’s impressive. I’m proud of you.”
His eyes glassed over as he took in my words. He shook his head and glanced up at the dark sky slowly beginning to yawn awake. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say those words again. Not after how I’d been over these past few years. I owe you an apology, Milo.”
“It’s fine, Dad.”
“No, it’s not.” He flicked his thumb against his nose. “When you needed me the most, I dropped the ball time and time again. I wasn’t the parent you needed or deserved, and I apologize for that, boy. You deserved more. Your mother would’ve given you more.”
“Maybe,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. For a while, I thought that, too. I was so pissed at you. I was convinced that Mom would’ve done better. But who knows? If the tables were turned and you were gone, I don’t know how Mom would’ve handled losing you. Death is hard on people in different ways. We never know how it will change us until it does. I owe you an apology, too. I should’ve realized how hard this was for you. I had Mom for seventeen years; you had her for thirty-two. That’s a lot more to mourn, and I’m sorry I didn’t lean into you more. I’m sorry I didn’t check in.”
Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he sniffled and kept his stare to the sky. Deep blues and maroons were beginning to emerge. The soft clouds moved slowly to the right as the sunbeams began to peek through the landscape. Dad fiddled with his fingers as he took in the sights.
“Your mother told you to look for her in the morning skies,” he said. “She told me to find her in the sunsets. I think her point for that was to try to get us to come together and share the beginnings and endings of each day.”
“That sounds like something she would’ve done.”
“I messed up, Milo. I’ve dropped the ball a million times this past year, and I apologize for that. I’m looking into therapy and other things to help with my grief. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to feel this way forever. I want to be there for you. I want to figure out how to be stronger for you.”
“I don’t need you to be strong, Dad. I get it…this sucks and it’s hard, but I don’t need you to be strong. I just need you to be here. Mom would be okay with us breaking every now and again. I just don’t think she would’ve wanted us to break alone.”
He brushed his thumb beneath his nose as he stared out at the water. “Be broken together?”
“Yeah, be broken together.”
“You’re a great son, Milo. You always have been, and I’m sorry for not telling you that enough.”
“It’s okay. I’m going to force you to for the rest of our lives, though,” I joked.
He smiled and batted his tears away. “Yeah, well, I deserve it.”
“You’re great, too, Dad. I want you to know I won’t judge you for a bad year when there were seventeen great ones. Someone once told me that we weren’t our worst moments. I like to believe that that’s true.”
His hands clasped together, and he nodded. “I heard you, you know.”
“What?”
“When you came to visit me in the hospital and asked me to stay each day. I heard you every single time. I think that was the reason I was able to come back. I think it was because of you, Milo. It was you, and it was always going to be you that brought me back. It was you that saved my life.”