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“That’s the thing about life…” Aaliyah wiped my tears away and cupped my face in her hands. “With every life’s story comes an ending. We all start the same way and end with the same fade to black. But the most important part, the most meaningful times, aren’t at the beginning and end of the stories. It’s the content we create in the middle. It’s the moments that become memories and the small things that become our greatest stories. It’s the way we love and the way we are loved. Life isn’t about the beginning and end. It’s about all the good things in-between. That’s what makes it worth it. That’s why we love. For the in-between.”
“I’m scared, Aaliyah. I’m so unbelievably scared.”
“I know.” She took Grant from my arms and placed him in his car seat. Next, she took my hands in hers and squeezed them. “That’s why you need friends to stand next to you and make sure you’re able to get to the other side. This is just a part of the story where things look a little dark, but in the end, everything’s going to be okay.”
“How is he?” I asked.
“He misses you.” She smiled. “But he’s okay. He told me to tell you something, too.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’re more than enough.”
Aaliyah stayed with me for days, taking care of both Grams and me. She went above and beyond while still raising a child of her own. Connor, of course, stayed in the house, too, being the father and husband that Aaliyah deserved.
Watching them both together only made my heart long for Damian even more. When Saturday came, I’d find a package of blueberry scones on my front porch with a note.
* * *
Still here, Cinderstella.
Always here.
-Beast
* * *
For the first time in a while, I found myself standing at the coastline, watching as the waves moved in and out. I took a deep breath as my swollen ankles felt the kisses of the ocean washing over me. I knew exactly why I’d avoided the ocean for the past few weeks. The ocean stood as comfort. The ocean calmed my soul. The ocean was Mama’s way of reminding me that everything was going to be okay.
A part of me was certain I didn’t deserve that comfort. Another part of me believed that the waves were filled with lies after all the heartbreak and fear I’d experienced, but the truth of it all was no matter how afraid I’d been, I still deserved comfort. I deserved to have something to lean into when I was scared, something to feel, touch, experience when I was at my lowest point.
Especially then.
“Mama, I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered, lowering myself to a sitting position. My toes dug into the sand as I stared out into the afternoon. “I don’t know how to feel everything without feeling insane. I became good at faking happiness. I’ve become great at putting on a mask and being sure that everyone around me felt good so they wouldn’t even have the opportunity to notice that my own happiness was a mirage. I don’t know where to start or what to do…so help me, Mama. Help me figure out how to understand my emotions…help me find peace.”
The waves splashed against me as tears fell down my cheeks. I sat there for hours, uncertain what to do, or how to move forward. Then a nudge of comfort hit my mind.
The letter.
I opened my eyes as those two words hit my mind. “The letter,” I muttered to myself, slowly pulling my toes from beneath the sand.
I stood and headed back to my bedroom. I grabbed the envelope that had been sitting on my nightstand since the beginning of November.
Sitting in my hands was the letter that was given to me the day of Kevin’s funeral. The same letter I hadn’t been able to bring myself to read since it was given to me. As I unfolded the letter within the envelope, I held my breath. It felt like I was saying goodbye to the only father I’d ever known. Yet, I felt as if it was also the key to me being able to ease some of the heaviness resting against my soul.
Stella,
I’ve had to write a lot of letters to different individuals, but this one is the hardest because it is going to the most important person of all. If I know you, and I believe I do, you’ll probably push this letter to the side for a while. You’ll feel that if you open it, you’ll be forced to face the fact that I am truly gone. But, you’ll open it at some point. I bet it’s exactly at the right time, too.
I snickered to myself as I read his words. As I studied his cursive. As I missed his physical existence. I kept reading.
