Jared
Darkness held heavy over the moonless sky.
I slumped back against the rough stucco of our little house, the pitted wall making its mark on my bare back. I dug my toes into the cool, damp grass where I propped my feet.
On a sigh, I lifted my half-spent cigarette to my mouth, balanced it between my lips as I let my head drift to the side, turning my attention back on the choppy, scrawled words that overflowed the dingy pages of the notebook seated on my lap.
My therapist had encouraged me on nights like this, the ones when I woke up gasping and begging for air from the aftermath of the horrors of that vivid dream, to do this.
Write.
I shook my head.
I had a therapist.
Never thought in a million fucking years I’d sit in front of one without it being court ordered. And when it’d been, those sessions had been nothing but a sham. Me sitting there like a punk-ass kid because that’s exactly what I was, spewing inane bullshit at a group counselor, dodging questions and throwing back vapid words when they were required.
It’s when I started pouring all this shit across these pages, at night in juvie when I couldn’t sleep.
Felt like I’d been doing this for fucking ever.
The difference was all those pages had been inscribed with hate.
I raked a hand over my head, scratched at it as I tried to define what I wanted to say, because these pages were no longer filled with hate.
These were letters to my mom.
God, the first time I did it, I sat out here in the middle of the night and cried for hours. Because I felt her, somehow knew she was listening, somehow knew she was talking back to me through all these words that came bubbling out of me from some unknown place.
My thoughts had been disorganized, a ramble of words that didn’t make a whole lot of sense except for the intense need I felt to tell her how much I loved her.
Slowly over time I opened up, revealing to her how I felt that day. How scared I was – how all that fear was for her.
I told her I was sorry.
Even though I’d come to accept she’d already forgiven me, in almost all my letters, there was an apology.
Now… now I was working on forgiving myself.
Some days were harder than others because I no longer blocked the misery, didn’t close off her face or shun her smile or reject her good.
I submersed myself in it and allowed myself to mourn.
God, I’d gone through a lot of fucking pain to come to that point, but I finally accepted I had the right to miss her. That I didn’t have to feel guilty for it, didn’t need to heap it up as another burden to bear.
I missed her.
It was part of my truth and I poured that feeling into these pages. No longer did I hesitate to tell her how much.
And damn, there were some moments when it just about brought me to my fucking knees.
But every time I got back up again.
I lived and loved with everything in me. Giving it my all.
She knew all my secrets, how much I adored my girl, just like my mom knew I would. She knew how terrified I was of becoming a father, all this anxiety of the unknown wrapped up in Aly’s ever-growing belly. But she also knew how insanely anxious and proud and thrilled I was at the same time, that my heart beat a little stronger every time I felt our baby kick.
She knew it all.
I let my thoughts wander, back to when I was a boy, to the soft lilt of her laugh and the tender touch of her hand. God, she’d been beautiful. So good and pure. A mild breeze rustled through the deep, slumbering night, and if I held still enough, I could almost feel it, her fingers brushing through my hair.
My chest swelled.
I felt so close to her.
Like she was right here, still guiding me through all the moments of my life.
And I thought maybe… maybe she is.
I looked back to the page, and set my hand free.
Tomorrow I’m going to marry her. Can you believe it? I get to call Aly my wife.
God, Mom, I’m happy.
So happy I think I might be a little crazy, and all of this sometimes seems impossible. That girl steals my breath.
I lifted my face to the starry sky, my leg bouncing when I turned back to my journal.
I’d do anything for you to be there.
I hesitated with my pen poised over the paper; then I set it back down.
But I know in some way you will be.
I rocked my head back on the wall.
Yeah.
She wouldn’t miss it.