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"I did. I just knew." Grabbing another tissue, I dabbed at my eyes. "I don't know how. But I couldn't believe you were gone."
He gave me a watery smile, his kind brown eyes filled with unshed tears. "I fought to stay alive. I had to see my family again."
That made me blubber once more, and when I was done, I knew there was something I had to tell him, something I'd wanted to say to him a million times since that horrible night. "Dad," I began, the words catching in my throat. "I'm—I'm so sorry."
His eyes narrowed at me. "Sorry? For what?"
For what? He had to be kidding. Or the trauma he'd endured had maybe lessened his memories. "For everything," I cried. "For making you go overboard in the first place."
The look on his face softened immediately. "It wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it was! I should never have stood up on that table. I should never have—"
He grabbed my hand, stopping me. "No, no, no. Don't ever blame yourself."
"But—"
"No! I won't hear you speak like this. It was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. It was an accident. That's it. An accident."
"But—" I tried again.
"Please tell me you haven't been blaming yourself for the last three years."
Holding back the flood of tears, I nodded slowly. Through my watery eyes, I watched as he frowned and rubbed his face with his hands.
"Oh, God," he whispered. "That breaks my heart."
The dam crumbled, and I broke down in sobs, my dad quickly moving to comfort me, telling me the whole time how wrong he thought I was.
"You can't blame yourself anymore, okay? It's over. I'm back. I'm alive. And truthfully, I'm a better person for it."
I looked up at that. "What? What did you say?"
"I said I'm a better person for having gone through that experience," he repeated, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"You really think so?"
"I know so." He looked away a moment before continuing. "I don't know exactly how to explain it. But all my life, I felt... well, I felt like I should be doing something, something outside of myself, you know?"
No, I didn't know. But I nodded anyway.
He sighed. "It's hard to put it the right way. But I was just living for myself. And for my family, of course. And now... well, now, I feel like I have an even deeper purpose."
"You do? Like what?"
"I'm not exactly sure yet. But the things I saw..."
My heart hurt at that idea.
"Well, the things I saw weren't right," he continued. "And I want to do something about it."
That was completely unexpected, and I didn't know what to say.
"So you see?" he asked. "That's why you have to let go of that guilt you have. Because I'm going to use what happened to me, what happened to us, and do something to make a difference in this world."
My chest unclenched at those words, and I felt an almost otherworldly relief pass through my entire body, unlocking the grief and guilt I'd held onto for three long years. Every muscle, every cell, let go. All that emotion just let go of me, releasing me from its savage grip.
I was stunned. And I also felt like a big blob of jello.
