lover • josh allen

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"everything you lose is a step you take. so make the friendship bracelets take the moment and taste it."

the new year is supposed to be filled with resolutions and joy. instead, this year has given me nothing but heartbreak and pain.

i go into the dining room, to read my letter. i carefully open the envelope.

my beautiful eleanor,

i hope that you'll never have to read this letter, but i know that you will eventually. i hope it's later than expected, though.

i don't want you to dwell on me, el. i really don't. i want you to celebrate every single day of life that you get because you know that they are limited.

you know i've never been good at writing, because my thoughts are all over the place, but i want you to know these things.

when you were a little girl, you always wanted to hang out with your siblings and make the cute little bracelets that other girls your age did, i hope you remember that.

i didn't get as many days as i hoped, but i wouldn't take them back. i wouldn't trade my small infinity for a bigger infinity because i'm happy with the cards i was dealt.

i want you to always be grateful for yours. you may have been dealt a bad hand, but i hope, i know that you've turned it into a royal flush.

i remember when i was diagnosed, my first thought was how i was going to tell you. i had to chose my words cause there's no antidote for telling you that i have cancer.

like i said before, do. not. dwell. don't feel bad for feeling happy.

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know. you don't have to be sorry for moving on and growing up.

try not to cry, eleanor. please try to remember that i didn't leave this earth painfully.

i left with my heart full knowing that my daughter, my sons, and my husband will be fine without me and that's all a mother wasn't to accomplish in her life.

know it's for the better.

so make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it. you've got no reason to be afraid. you're on your own, el.

-mom

p.s. you'll never be alone.

i folded the letter back up and placed it in the envelope. i slide it into my hoodie pocket and walk into the kitchen.

i see stefon, forearms on the counter. he had just finished reading his letter too. he looks up and me, he's holding back tears.

but when he looks at me, he can't anymore. i don't blame him. damar collapsing on the field and our mother passing away within 24 hours is more than enough to make someone break down.

i walk up to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. he wraps his around my torso and we just cry.

i don't know who needs this hug more, but we both need it.

bout of our shoulders are shaking from the tears we both let out.

once we pull apart, both of our faces are tear stained along with our hoodies. "i ruined your hoodie." we both say simultaneously.

a light laugh escapes both of our lips, but it sounds more like a sigh.

stefon and i walk back into the living room, trevon and dad must've been doing the same thing we were.

"how did it happen?" trevon asks, stefon and i sit down on the couch.

"we were laying together," he says. "then i woke up in the middle of the night and her hand was colder than it should be." he says.

"i checked and she didn't have a pulse. she died in my arms." he says. for some reason, all i could think about was the notebook.

"the paramedics took her?" trevon asks, our father nods.

"remember that time we tried to cook her breakfast for mother's day but forgot the sugar in the muffins?" i say, trevon and stefon chuckle and sniffle.

"i wondered why the house smelt like it was burning and went to the store to buy muffins." he says.

"remember when she would have that cookout and make her famous lemonade?" trevon said.

"she made the best lemonade." dad said.

"she was the best at everything." stefon says. i out a comforting hand on my brother's shoulder.

we sat in silence for a while, reminiscing on our favorite memories with our mom.

"i'm gonna go home." i say, i hug each of them again.

i slip on my shoes and head out the door. no, i'm not going home, i'm going home.

home didn't mean my house anymore.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

these last 2 chapters have killed me to write, but buckle up for the next one <33

questions:

favorite nfl team if the one you don't like now doesn't exist?? (don't say the cheifs bc i will get mad. im talking to you 1-800-rafecameron.)

favorite nfl game you've ever watched??