Page 104 of Just One Moment
SomethinginPatrick’stone told me this letter shouldn’t be read in public.
Whichis whyI’msitting at my desk, pulling away the seal of the envelope to reveal my dad’s familiar writing.It’sbeen so long sinceI’veseen his curlyC’sand dramaticY’s.
Witha deep breath,Iread.
Graham,
Idon’t know where you’ll be when you read this, but asI’mwriting this you’ll be landing inNewYork, to start your first semester of college.Iwanted to let you know how proud your mother andIare of you.
Therehasn’t been a day we haven’t been, andIknow sometimes you fail to see that.
Itcan be hard to feel accepted or heard when you’re not loud or outgoing.Gettinglost in a sea of voices that tend to be our own as we navigate our feelings.Aswell as our good looks, we share something else in common.Self-acceptance.
Growingup, you tried so hard to be outspoken likeBoothor bossy likePatrickor goofy likeFlorence.Yousaid you were desperate to be liked.Youfailed to see how your thoughtfulness helped calmBooth; your rational thinking allowedPatrickto take a step back and look at the bigger picture; and your patience gaveFlorencea new perspective.
Youquietly but fiercely cared for them all in your own way.
You, my boy, are and will always be exactly who you’re supposed to be.
Yourmother helped me realize that about myself and so did you.Sincebecoming your father you’ve taught me so much.Patience.Forgiveness.Joy.
AllIask is that you’re kind to yourself and that when you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, they love you for exactly the man you are.
Youalways called me your hero, when really, you’re mine.
Withall my love,
Dad
“Fuck.”Myglasses clatter to the desk andIbury my head in my hands, letting the raw emotion rock through my body.
Fifteenyears.Fifteenyears ago this was written.Hisadvice has just been sitting there, waiting for me.
It’snot lost on me that his advice is so similar to the words of comfortIgaveQuinnafter her mother’s phone call.
I’ddo anything to hear my dad speak these words to me.Readingthem is a hit in the sternum with each letter and syllable.
He’sright though.
Ilaugh into my palms, knowing he’d love hearing me say that.There’sno point in dwelling over whether things would have turned out differently hadIread it sooner.BeforeJenna.Hisdeath.MeetingQuinn.Thisletter found its way to me at precisely the right time.
Quinnwould still have walked into my life 249 days ago and turned it upside down.Orperhaps, the right way up.
I’veknown she was the personIwantedto spend my life with since the day of my mom’s accident.Iknow she’s nothing likeJennaand it shouldn’t have taken me until this morning to realize that.
Itshould have been her serenity in my silence.Theway she wants to hear me laugh or make me smile.Thatanytime we kissed, she shined brighter.
Herlove for me has been there all along.
Myleather-bound journal sits on the corner of the desk.Islide it toward me and read through all the entries sinceI’vemet her.There’sa change in my tone from that first dayIspoke to her; a hint of hope and wonder.Andmaybe that’s it.Sheneeds to seeIdon’t question her love, butIalso need to show her how without even knowing it,I’veslowly started to accept myself again.
Thesepages will allow her to see that.
Beingapart from her is going to kill me.
Butthe reunion will be incredible.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE