Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“But it wasn’t just his skill with horses that defined him. Wade’s devotion to our family was unwavering. He was always there, ready to lend a hand or offer a shoulder to lean on. His fervor for life was infectious, bringing his unique energy into every room he walked into. Wade lived life to the fullest, embracing every minute with a heart full of love and a spirit that was truly one of a kind.”
Tears stream down my face as it all becomes too real that Wade is gone forever. Gabe hands me a tissue, and I dab at my eyes, grateful for his presence.
Ethan continues on, telling stories about Wade that has everyone laughing, although I notice Trey sits up straight and doesn’t seem moved one way or the other. I listen and I remember, because I was involved in so many of those adventures.
It becomes overwhelming, sitting back here and watching this unfold from an outsider’s view. It’s a reminder of not only losing Wade but of losing Trey. And yes, while I vowed to keep in contact with them, I’ve lost my chance to be a real part of their family. That pain slices so deep, I can’t handle it anymore.
The weight of the memories, the sight of Trey’s pain—it’s too much. I lean over to Gabe, my voice barely a whisper. “Give everyone hugs for me.”
He blinks in surprise but then nods in understanding. “I will. Safe travels.”
I slip out of the pew and quietly make my way to the exit, tears blurring my vision. Once outside, I pull in the oppressive warm summer air. I head to my rental car, my mind racing with everything I need to do. I need to pack my bags, get everything in order. My flight isn’t until tomorrow, but I decide to head to Louisville and stay the night in a hotel.
The drive home is a blur, my mind numb with everything that has happened. Once inside, I mechanically go through the motions of packing. I grab clothes, toiletries, anything I might need for the trip. Each item I pack feels like a piece of my heart being torn away, a reminder of the life I’m leaving behind.
Saying goodbye to my mother is uneventful. I’m currently being given the cold shoulder and I’m not sure she’ll forgive me for selling the shop, even though I told her she could have the proceeds. I get a weak hug and a perfunctory kiss on my cheek, a vague request that I keep in contact with her. I promise but I’m not sure how well I’ll keep it.
I drive slowly out of Shelbyville, getting one last look at Blackburn Farms. My heart hurts so badly but I know that in time, it will heal. I’ve been through this once before and I can do it again.
The drive to Louisville is long and lonely, the road stretching out before me like an endless ribbon. I check into a hotel near the airport, the sterile room a stark contrast to the warmth of the Blackburn home. I drop my bags by the door and collapse onto the bed, exhaustion finally catching up with me.
As I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, the reality of it all hits. I’m really leaving. I’m leaving Shelbyville, the Blackburns, and most of all, Trey. The thought is almost too much to bear, but I know I have to keep moving forward. For my own sake, I have to find a way to heal, to build a life for myself, even if it means doing it alone.
Sleep comes fitfully, my dreams a jumble of memories and regrets. When morning dawns, I feel no sense of relief, only a deep, aching emptiness. I get up, shower, and prepare for my flight, my movements practiced and detached.
At the airport, I check in, pass through security, and find my gate. Everything feels surreal, like I’m watching someone else’s life unfold. I find a seat near the window and stare out at the planes, my mind winding through the images of the past few days.
As they call for boarding, I gather myself and stand, my heart splintering at the thought of everything I’m leaving behind. This is it. The final step in letting go. I make my way to the gate, handing over my boarding pass and stepping onto the plane.
And as it takes off, I look out the window, watching as Kentucky grows smaller and smaller until it’s nothing but a distant memory.
Tears spill down my cheeks, but I let them flow, knowing that this is my way of saying goodbye.
Goodbye to Shelbyville.
Goodbye to the Blackburns.
Goodbye to Trey.
CHAPTER 22
Trey
The farm stretches out before me, but it’s not the farm I know. The sky is a surreal shade of deep purple, the trees are whispering secrets I can’t understand, and the horses move like shadows, ethereal and ghostly.