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My dad would never have gone overboard if he hadn't been trying to save me. And that's what haunted me. That's what killed me inside. That's what I tried every second of every day not to think about or I'd go absolutely insane.
The thought that I'd killed my dad was more than I could handle, more than my brain could endure.
It amazed me that anyone in my family even spoke to me. How could my mom, my brother, and especially my grandparents even look at me without seeing me as my dad's murderer?
Sometimes, I wanted to ask them that question. But I was too much of a coward. I didn't want to point it out to them again, that it was all my fault, because what would I do if they did actually start to blame me and turn against me? I didn't think I'd survive losing them too.
God, I sucked.
"You know what?" Josh finally said, grabbing my hand again.
I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me. "What?" I asked.
"Your dad did it because he loved you. And alive or dead, he would hate to see you blaming yourself. He'd want you to live and be happy."
His earnest eyes held mine, and I didn't know what to say to that. Of course he was right. Of course. But I didn't know how to move on and not blame myself. I'd had endless discussions with the therapist about it too and finally just gave up.
There was no answer to that torturous question.
And even worse, she said that was why I hung on to the idea of him being alive. And everyone else in my life agreed with that idea. Everyone.
But I wondered what Josh would say to that?
"Do you think..." I began. "Do you think my guilt has something to do with me believing he's still alive?"
A breath escaped from Josh's lips, and he removed his hand. I braced myself for his answer, but he surprised me.
"No," he said. "I think those are two separate things actually."
My heart swelled with hope. "You do?"
"I do. Definitely." He nodded emphatically. "I think the feeling you have isn't so easily dismissed. I just think there's so much out there that we don't understand. You know?"
Now those tears that had disappeared came rushing back. "I do know. Thank you. You're the first person to say that."
"Well, I truly believe it. Life isn't so black and white. There's a lot of gray. There's a lot we don't know. But people don't like that. We want black and white. It's hard to accept the gray, you know, hard to accept the unknown."
I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand, not even caring that I was being kind of gross right now. My emotions were too strong.
Someone believed me.
Even after knowing the whole story, Josh still believed me. He didn't think it was a manifestation of my guilt. He believed me.
"You've got to stop blaming yourself, Jessica. You really have to. Your dad would be the first to say that."
I nodded at him, the tears overflowing.
"It was an accident. That's it. A freak accident. And it wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault," he said again, emphasizing each syllable.
Those words hit deep. I didn't know if I quite believed them. But damn, it felt amazing to hear them anyway, like a bandage over the never-ending wound, like a soothing, comforting balm.
"Thank you," I said, staring at him through my watery eyes.
"Can I give you a hug? Or is that too weird?" he asked, the beginnings of a smile on his face.
"Friends can hug."
With Devon gone, I felt so alone. And God knew, I could use a little human contact on this day.
