Without another word, his hands disappear. I want to beg him to stay, but I need him to go. It’s as though someone is sawing me in half. I’m fighting against the pull, but I honestly don’t know what I want anymore. He opens the door and hesitates, turning back to give me a sad smile before walking out.
When the door closes, I fall to the ground and let out a strangled sob. What have I done? Why does this always have to be so hard?
You’re it for me, Catherine. His words repeat in my head.
I crawl to the couch and curl up, letting the tears come, hoping they’ll wash away the pain. He asked me not to push and I basically shoved him. I fight the urge to run after him, to beg him to stay and hold me. Hoping I made the right choice, I curl into myself and rock back and forth.
What if I’m the reason they leave?
Maybe you should stop pushing them out, then.
If I truly pushed them all away, what does that say about me?
You’ve already sentenced me for someone else’s crime.
Have I?
I lie here, soaking the cushion as I let out twenty years’ worth of devastation. I cry until my tears have dried, but the hollow feeling in my chest has grown. I’m truly alone. There’s no one here. What I wouldn’t give to go back a few hours and skip ever going to the lawyer’s. I would’ve waited for Ashton to go, or I’d go back even further to when I first met Jackson and not give in to him. Then I could live my life and not have to suffer all over again. If I thought the pain of losing Neil was bad, it’s not even a tenth of what I’m feeling right now. Jackson took pieces of my heart with every kiss, every gesture, every smile, and I’ll never get them back. Though, as I sit here and replay everything that’s happened, I wonder if maybe that’s not true. Yes, he claimed those pieces, but not to keep. He used those moments to put my heart back together. And then I made him leave.
I need to find my phone. I need Ashton. As I grab for my purse, it tips over and all the contents fly out. Why not? At this point I’m not surprised the hell won’t end. I reach for my phone and see my father’s letter on the floor. Every bone in my body freezes and my heart plummets into my stomach. Am I ready to read this? I reach for the letter and hold it in my hands. It’s now or never.
Sitting on the floor, my finger slides under the lip and I gently tear the envelope open. I hesitate for a moment. Once I read this I can’t unread it. My eyes water again but I stifle the tears. I’m tired of crying. Tired of feeling weak and not in control of my life. My heart is racing and the tightness in my chest is making me dizzy. I say a silent prayer as my fingers gently tug out the letter. Slowly, I open it and begin to read my father’s last words to me.
My Dearest Catherine,
I’m sorry you’re reading this letter and not hearing the words from me. It means that I was never brave enough to come find you. I’m a coward. I want to try to explain, and I hope that someday you’ll forgive me. You see, I loved your mother very much, but we couldn’t make it work. You were never to blame. Ever. Not one single thing that ever happened between us was your fault. I’m sorry for hurting you. I know my absence must’ve caused you a lot of pain, and for that I’ll have died bearing that burden on my shoulders. I thought about you every single day since I walked out that door. I wondered about you, hoping you grew to become a beautiful woman, never doubting you did.
I’ll start at the beginning. When I left that day, you broke me. Your tears ripped through my heart. The pain of having to pry you off my leg destroyed me. Having you beg and promise to be good … I can’t describe my emotions because there aren’t enough words to do so. You couldn’t have been any better—you were already perfect. I didn’t know how I was going to walk away. The agony was almost more than I could bear. At first, it was easier to stay away than imagine having to watch you hurt every time I had to leave. You were my world, Catherine. You gave me something I never knew I was missing. When you were born, you stole my heart. Then your mother and I realized it wasn’t working, and I had to make a choice. That choice changed the rest of our lives. After I walked out the door that day, I knew I could never do it again. I couldn’t walk away from you. Your tears, your hurt—they were caused by me that day and I’ve never forgiven myself for it. If I close my eyes, I can still see the anguish on your face. I can hear your pleas as if I’m right back there again. That does something to a man. When he sees the face of his daughter breaking, it forever changes him. I’m not excusing my absence because there is no excuse. I stayed away because I couldn’t see that again. I didn’t want cause you any more pain. I regretted that decision every birthday, every Christmas, every holiday, and every event that you’ve ever attended that I missed. A father I was not. A man I was not. Because I was too scared.
I want you to know I did follow you. I went to your dance recital when you were thirteen—you were an amazing swan. You were breathtaking in your prom dress—your date was a lucky guy. I attended your high school graduation. You looked beautiful—I was so proud. Standing in the back as they called your name, I realized how wrong I’d been. You, Catherine, deserved more. You should’ve had a father who was sitting in the front row, clapping for his daughter, not cowering in the back of the room. At that moment my shame and self-loathing was never clearer. I didn’t deserve you. Which is why I continued to stay away after that. You were doing so well without me. If I came back into your life again, it would only confuse you. I’d already done enough of that.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, I started to re-evaluate my choices. I spent days in the hospital alone, contemplating how stupid I was. I couldn’t call you and ask you to be there for me. I’d never been there for you. I wouldn’t expect it and I couldn’t ask you to do it—it was my penance. I still don’t know if things would have been different, but please know I’m sorry, Catherine. More than I can ever fully express. I am so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you needed. I can only hope that as you read this you see that I loved you. One day you’ll marry and he won’t be good enough for you, because you, my daughter, deserve nothing less than perfection. I hope that he will love you with his whole heart and not make the same mistakes I did. I hope he’ll show you every day just how special you are. I hope he’ll be the father to your children I was never able to be to you. He should fight every day to show you how worth it you are. There will come a time it will get tough, but if you truly love each other, you’ll find your way.
If you’re still reading this, I want you to know that I’m looking down on you and smiling at the woman you’ve become. I wish I could turn back the hands of time, but I can’t. I can’t take all the hurt away, but I hope you understand that it was me. It was never you. I’m sorry. I want you to know the last person I’ll think about when my time is up, is you. Every time the sun shines down upon you, I hope you’ll think of me keeping the gray skies away. I love you, Catherine.
Love,
Your Father
It’s too much and yet not enough. I place the letter down, lie on the cold floor, and cry myself to sleep, hoping for blackness to take hold. But there’s no darkness, no absolution from the pain.
Even in my sleep I can’t escape it. My dreams shift and change, haunting me with what I never had but always wanted. I wake up feeling nauseous, my headache now a throbbing migraine. Crying yourself dry of tears will do that. I glimpse at the clock. It’s only nine thirty. Sheer emotional and physical exhaustion is all I register. I hate that I couldn’t even sleep past midnight. At least then this horrific day would’ve been over. It’s seriously the day that’s never going to end.