“I can’t stop thinking it.”
“I can’t stop thinking about anything. But we have Noah. We don’t get to drown.”
Mark’s hands tightened on the chair back. “You did the right thing.”
“I know. And I still feel sick.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye.”
***
Two days later, I went to the cemetery alone. I set daisies at Ethan’s stone and traced his name with my fingertip.
“Hi, baby,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you. I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye.”
My eyes burned. I let them.
“I can’t forgive him,” I continued. “Not now. Maybe not ever. I’m done letting strangers speak for you. No more secrets. No more borrowed words.”
I pressed my palm to the cold stone, then I stood and breathed until my chest stopped shaking.
It still hurt. It always would. But it was the clean hurt of truth. And I could carry it.
“No more secrets. No more borrowed words.”
If this happened to you, what would you do? We’d love to hear your thoughts in the Facebook comments.
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