She said she decided to never live like that.The idea of fading away, of words like “depression”, “illness”, or even just “tiredness”, started to terrify her.
When my father found out he had a neurodegenerative disease, I was almost one year old.They weren’t married, and they hadn’t planned to have me.But they’d been dating for a few years.After my father’s constant efforts to get my mother’s attention, he had finally swayed her heart.For three years, they lived happily and loved each other deeply.I was one of their romantic nights, I justhappened, but they were thrilled for me.And a doctor finding out about my fatherjust happenedtoo, but that changed everything.
My mother said she was sorry, between long silences and a fragile voice.
I guess there comes a time in our lives when we realize our parents are only human.Maybe this is that time.
“I’ve been going to therapy.I’m taking it seriously.I reached the part where I was advised to tell you about your father.But I couldn’t.Not yet.Because that would mean accepting that you might never forgive me.And I wasn’t ready for that,” she said, her voice weak.
That phone call had been dark and painful.
But my dad is teaching me forgiveness, in the most admirable way.
And Ella taught me a long time ago that you love people with all their flaws, just as there will be people who love you with yours.
Ella taught me a lot at seventeen.She had no idea how much.
Two weeks ago, on the day I met my dad, she walked me to the hotel where I’m still staying.By then, it was already 8 p.m.
She walked through the entire day with me.
We checked in at the hotel, went to the supermarket to buy a toothbrush and those basic products you usually bring when you’re not caught by surprise with a father.Then, we chose a restaurant and had dinner together.
“You know… it’s good to talk about how we’re feeling,” she said as we sat down at the restaurant table, trying to help me lighten the weight on my chest.Which I did, later, with her.
“You’ve told me that before,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m running out of advice,” she said in her playful tone, trying to get me to smile.
I wouldn’t have wanted to spend that night with anyone but her.
We talked about the things we had taught each other.We called them “Miles’s and Ella’s lessons”.That brainstorm started because I told her she was the one who had really taught me that it’s good to talk to someone about how we’re feeling.
She said I had taught her that learning to say no and taking care of ourselves isn’t being selfish.
I said she had taught me that you choose your friends, that friendships are supposed to flow, and that friends are the ones you feel good around.Back then, that had been an important “Ella’s lesson” for me.Today, I know I choose my friends, and that they’re the ones I feel good around.
“It’s funny you’d say that,” she added.“I think I learned that with you too.”
Her expression softened, then fell slightly as she told me about a “Miles’s lesson” she said she had forgotten, and only recently remembered.“That I can cry, and people will still love me, even if I’m not shining to them.”
I gave her a reassuring smile.It was really intrinsic in her that she should be light for people, all the time.
At the end of our conversation, I told her I had the best “Ella’s lesson”.Because when I met her, I was at my grumpiest: a guarded, skeptical teenager who had decided the world didn’t have much to offer.
And she had taught me the most important thing: That if you love life, life will love you back.
Chapter 68
Miles
August 29th, 2009
Saturday
I look in the rear-view mirror of my car and see Ella in the backseat with her eyes closed, her head tilted toward the window, basking in the sun.
Next to me is my dad, who meticulously observes each landscape.We left the city and entered the countryside, on our way to Evermere.He’s eager to get to know the place where Ella and I first met.
