Georgia On My Mind

20

GEORGIA POV

Was I dreaming?

No... everything definitely happened.

Rome knew how I felt. Maybe it was vague but lyrics were a way to communicate when words did not feel like enough.

The evening went faster than I anticipated. We sat outside and talked for a couple hours, covering basics about school and what his life was like in Europe. The stories he had were fascinating and I found myself listening while getting a more clear picture of what his life had been like the past few years. We headed to our separate rooms at around midnight but I laid in bed awhile processing all that had occurred.

This was just the beginning, but tomorrow I need to honor an ending.

Suddenly it was morning and I got ready to see my Dad's grave for the one year anniversary of his death. Max and Rome left early, heading to a breakfast meeting, but happily took the lunches I packed as well as travel mugs of coffee.

My heart was aching but I had to visit the cemetery alone.

I never mentioned anything to Rome.  I couldn't.  Something inside me held back. He had a lot on his plate as it was and a piece of me felt like opening up about what I was dealing with would make everything even more overwhelming. I didn't want him to feel obligated. It felt safer to just allow him to share while keeping my loss under wraps.

Maybe it was a way to escape the sadness, too.

Mariah gave me a hug before I left and reminded me they were there for support.

I knew what she meant.

Those disgusting messages from women like Katie that told me the world would be better if I was gone still rang through my head. Reassurance from Mariah helped me stay focused.

The cool rain was an appropriate backdrop.

Usually when I visited my Mom's grave I would sit and chat with her for hours.  I'd fill her in on life, school, and anything on my mind.

My Dad was never a talker.

He was the example I learned from, the reason I became careful.

Why I never got close to other people.

His bowling league was the most social interaction he ever got, aside from small talk with coworkers. It was always a time that gave him a break from the reality of our lives.

Dad lived with deep grief after Mom died. He never went to therapy and rarely talked about how he felt but was loving and supportive of my dreams. Seeing me graduate was a moment that meant more than just achieving a degree I was passionate about. It was a testament to the sacrifices he made and life he helped me graft.

The gravesites were set further back into the cemetery, my parents buried next to one another just shy of 22 years apart. Staring at their etched names made everything inside me ache.

Life wasn't fair. I had dreams when I was younger of Dad meeting someone amazing that would be a Mother figure for me. Of walking down the aisle toward the man I love, my arm linked with my Dad's. I would imagine Christmas mornings where my children scrambled to Grandpa while they opened presents, soaking up the joy from just being together.

Dreams that one day he would heal and see life for its potential while still honoring the memory of his first love.

As I stood trying to find meaning in so much loss, I realized it didn't matter. Nothing can change what happened. Dwelling on the past would mean missing out on what this moment held for me. What my future had just ahead, within reach.