Page 95 of See It Through

I loved the woman sleeping beside me, and I would be damned if I didn’t give her my all. If she had even an inkling of fear I’d one day be able to walk away from her, I had to do everything I could to shut that down. Reading Graham’s letter might not have been the answer to that, but there was a chance it was.

I carefully moved Hannah off me and sat up, swinging my feet to the floor. Sliding open the drawer, I slipped the envelope out and clutched it with both hands. Just holding it made my pulse pick up and stomach knot.

“You terrify me.”

No way out but through.

Quiet as I could, I walked downstairs. Turning on the light next to the couch, I sat and stared at the envelope for another minute or two.

These were the last words my father would ever say to me. Once they were read, there’d be no more. And maybe, now that I was sitting here, finally ready to open this envelope, I was afraid I’d be let down by him once again.

I wouldn’t have been surprised. Disappointed, on the other hand? Yeah, I thought I would be.

I ripped the envelope open and shook a folded piece of paper out. Breath stuck in my throat, I opened it, wincing at the sight of my dad’s no-nonsense, block handwriting.

Never thought I’d see that again.

Holy hell. I rubbed my chest, but it didn’t help ease the ache carving into me.

Already hurting, I took a deep breath and read.

Remi-boy,

If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone. I hope like hell I got to say these things face to face and this is just a repeat for you. If you didn’t make it back in time, don’t let Hannah make you feel bad about it. I understand.

(If Hannah wants to lay a guilt trip on you, let her. She needs it. But don’t take it to heart. She’s the best girl I know, and somewhere along the way, she became the best friend I ever had. Maybe she can be that for you too. I’m taking that wish with me.)

Gasping for breath, I put the letter down to claw at my throat. Something had shifted inside me, compressing my lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. What the hell was that?

Leaning over, head between my knees, I sucked in air, only getting a strawful at a time. Black spots danced in my vision, closing in on me, and the inside of my chest felt like gears and wheels were moving, clicking, grinding from disuse.

With a shaking hand, I picked the letter back up, reminding myself there was no way out of this but through. Had to read it, get it over with, move on.

This letter is for you, Rem, not me. No way to rid myself of my guilt for all the ways I failed you, so I want to leave you with things I learned to carry you through. For what it’s worth, I’ll go to my grave regretting the kind of father I was. I’m sorry, my boy. So damn sorry. That might not be worth anything to you, but it had to be said.

Now, on with it. Here’s what I have for you:

Stay with the people who stay with you. Give them your all. In the end, it’s those connections that matter more than anything else.

Never be afraid to show your feelings. Good, bad, sorrow, joy. There’s no shame in feeling what you feel. Let it out, or it’ll rot away inside you.

It’s never too late until it is. You regret something? Find a way to make it right.

Spend time in the sunshine every day, even when it’s easier to stay in the dark. But wear your sunscreen, boy. You aren’t gonna be young forever.