Brecken
Brecken sat on the couch, beer in hand, staring at the box at his feet. It was too damn early to be awake, let alone drinking. Surely one box couldn’t possibly contain anything that could hurt him any worse than he was already hurting, could it? Taking a swig of his beer, January’s face filled his thoughts. It was burned into his brain. He’d woken up in a cold sweat with those haunted eyes his only memory of the dream.
The sun was still buried behind the mountains and outside the city slept peacefully. Oh, what he’d give for that—a night of peace where he wasn’t haunted by his father’s mistakes or his own. My how the tides had turned.
Setting the bottle on the coffee table with a clink, he pried the top flaps of the box open and looked inside.
On top was the old cowboy hat his father always wore, and he picked it up, flipping it over in his hands. His father’s hat. If he’d ever had another, Brecken couldn’t remember it. The black hat was worn and sweat stained from the many years it had sat on top of his father’s head. It was a symbol of so many things. Hard work, quality, craftsmanship. His father had been fond of saying, “They don’t make things like they used to,” and if his old hat were any indication, that particular bit of wisdom might not have been too off base.
Tossing the hat on the couch, he plucked the journal up from the floor where he’d thrown it.
With shaky hands, he opened to the middle of the journal. A newspaper clipping fell out into his lap and Brecken placed it to the side and read the next journal entry.
November 5, 2013.
Dear Son,
I heard you finally did it—started your own company. The local newspaper has good things to say about you and your vision for the future of software. I’m not entirely sure what all that means, but I’m damn proud of you. Your mother would be proud, too. You’ve exceeded every dream she ever had for you. Me, well, I guess I’ve really only had one dream for you since you left home—that you’d find happiness. I’m not sure if you’ve found that or not. I’m sure others will see your picture in the paper and think it means you have everything you ever wanted, but I know better. I was that man. I had everything I’d ever wanted, a home, a wife, a job I loved, but I carried the mistakes of my past with me in a way that was hard to really shake off and allow myself to be happy.
Hopefully, that doesn’t taint your memories of the good times we had. There was seventeen years of happiness where I allowed myself to believe that things had worked out exactly like they were supposed to.
I guess you think that was short sighted, knowing what you know now, but I saw that true happiness looming before me, and instead of questioning it, I grabbed hold and held it close as long as I could.
Find happiness, grab hold of it, and do whatever it takes to keep it.
Love,
Dad
Brecken opened the newspaper clipping carefully, reading the headline aloud. “Blackstone Software Opens and Promises To Deliver Cutting-Edge Solutions.”
He stared hard at the unsmiling man in the picture, remembering the day well. He had been sweating bullets and nervous as hell, wondering if he was going to be able to pull it off or if he’d be another one of the millions of small business that closed after failing to deliver. Tina had stumbled into his office only a few months later with a resume to kill for and a work ethic that was only matched by his own. Over the next two years, they managed to land clients, code the software, and implement it successfully with only a small team of entry-level engineers and more coffee than any two people should consume in one lifetime.
He folded the newspaper and slipped it into the back of the journal before flipping the page, eager for more of his father’s words. The more he read, the less angry he found himself, but without it, other feelings crept in.
Remorse. Guilt. Sadness. Just to name a few.
So, he needed to be done. He was ready to move on with his life and try to salvage whatever was left of his relationship with Henry. He was the only family he had left.
When he reached the last page, he stared down at the final words his father ever wrote to him, ever would write to him, and his chest tightened.
October 22, 2017.
Dear Son,
The doctor’s say I don’t have a lot of time left. I’m feeling weaker every day. It’s hard being holed up in this house with only my memories to keep me company. Louisa and Timothy drop in daily, and Henry calls once a week. These three people have become my lifeline to the outside world.
I miss you. I have every day since you left home. I don’t blame you, and I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished. I hope you’re happy, and I hope you’ve found peace. If you haven’t and you’re reading this now, then know I’ve found mine.
That doesn’t mean I like it, and it doesn’t mean I don’t regret the decisions that have left me an old man alone in a big, empty house. But I’m at peace.
Your mother was my hero. God rest her soul, she was the bravest and strongest woman I ever knew. I loved her the minute I saw her. She was standing behind the counter of her father’s feed store when I walked through the door, and my heart dropped to the floor. Her hair hung loose down her back and when she turned around, our eyes locked, and I was never the same. I didn’t deserve her then, and I didn’t deserve the way she stuck beside me all those years, but I’m no fool. I knew even then how lucky I was.
It’s a rare thing to find a woman who loves and accepts you for the person you are deep down in your bones. She did. She saw the darkest parts of me and she loved me anyway.
She gave me everything that was good in this world, and without her, I can’t seem to find the same zest for life. If death brings me nothing else, I hope it brings me back to her.
I love you. I’ll keep loving you as long as I have left.
Love,
Dad
He gulped for air, unaware he’d been holding his breath as he read the final entry. That’s it? Even on his death bed he seemed content in his decision.
Love.
Love had cost him everything, and he’d never regretted it.
Tears streamed down his face as Brecken threw the journal at the wall and let out a scream. Placing his head in his hands, he cried, cursing not his father, but himself.