Without you. - [Chenford Story]

Chap 6 : A Year without you.

One year ago, she died. A strange anniversary. He took the day off. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. The house was silent. It was just him, his cup of coffee, and the baby monitor on the counter. Ellie was still sleeping in her bed. She would turn two in three months.

Things weren't easy—being a single parent. He had been there for all her milestones. He created memories while he was still grieving. How hard it was to stay present for someone when all he wanted was to lie in bed and do nothing. He had to push himself countless times. He was still going to therapy. He wouldn't admit it, but it helped. It was a safe space where he could cry and talk about her. He was still afraid of letting her go. He had admitted that she was the love of his life and that nothing would ever be the same.

Because of Ellie, he allowed himself to smile and laugh a bit more now. Even though it was hard, his daughter deserved it. He didn't want to let her down. Ellie was a happy baby—always smiling. She was comfortable with everyone, loving everyone. She loved spending time at the station with her daddy and his friends. She had a special bond with Angela; it was undeniable. Ellie could say a few words now, even form sentences. She was a confident walker. She was a daddy's girl, through and through. Her father was her whole world.

Ellie knew she had a mom, but she was too young to understand everything. One day, she would. They had a routine: every night, after the bedtime story and before the goodnight kiss, they would say goodnight to Mommy by kissing the photo Tim had given her on her first birthday.

He missed her so much. It still hurt and always would, but he had to stay strong for their little one. Ellie was so much like her mother—her looks, her smile, her attitude. How was it even possible? He would give anything for one more minute with her, to change everything about that day. He would have given everything to save her, to take her place.

He still called her voicemail to hear her voice. Her clothes were still in the closet, her toothbrush still in the bathroom. Some things hadn't moved because, deep down, he wasn't ready. A small part of him couldn't fully accept her death. One thing he was sure of: his daughter had saved him, just as her mother had. He wouldn't be here if not for her.

Something inside him had died that day. He was navigating through darkness and sunshine, and it was exhausting. His little girl had put a bandage on his heart.

The ringing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts.

From Angela to Tim:
" You, me and the kids at the beach, later ? "

From Tim to Angela:
" You are not working today ? "

From Angela to Tim:
" Took a day off, so ? "

From Tim to Angela:
" You didn't have to do that Ang'... "

From Angela to Tim:
" Beach with the kids ? After lunch ? "

From Tim to Angela:
" Sounds good. See you there ".

Even though they had been close before, their friendship was stronger now. Angela was his cornerstone. She was there for him, and for Ellie. She had helped him in so many ways. She convinced him to try therapy, took care of Ellie, and supported him when he needed it most. She even taught him some parenting skills.

Ellie was awake. "Dada, no sleep! Dada, Dada!" she called. He smiled. He would never get used to hearing "Dada." It was his favorite sound. He joined her in her bedroom, and they shared their morning cuddles.

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Early in the afternoon, Angela's kids were playing on the beach while Ellie napped beside Tim on that same beach. The weather was mild—not too warm—and the moment felt peaceful.