Dare to Fall

Chapter VIII

My mom bought a fresh bouquet of white roses on our way to my dad's grave. As she cradled the delicate blooms, a smile flickered on her face—a small moment of joy amidst the heaviness of our visit. I couldn't help but smile back, but we both knew we'd be much happier if my father were still here with us. It left me wondering: How deeply did she long for him? How long had she suffered before she could even begin to let him go? And how had she managed it when I still struggled every day?

Arthur Oscar Jones. My mom traced the name on my dad's tombstone with her fingertips as she carefully placed two white candles beside it. She took a deep breath and lit them, the flickering flames dancing in the soft breeze. Standing there, she stared at my dad, lying beneath the soil that had welcomed him. As time passed, his soul had descended, leaving only bones behind—a stark reminder of the finality of life.

When my dad died, I fell into a depression that felt insurmountable. Mom was no stranger to grief either, but I sensed her suffering was deeper. I remembered how she had told me she waited for three long years to be with him, and while I felt a pang of gratitude that she had waited—because otherwise, I wouldn't exist—I couldn't help but wonder about the pain wrapped in that patience.

She draped her arm around my shoulder. I glanced at her and saw the tears pooling in her eyes, the silent battle of holding them back. She didn't want to show my dad her weakness—not the vulnerability of navigating life alone with me.

But if only she could see how strong she was. She raised me on her own, fulfilling all my needs despite the obstacles life threw at her. Even though we lacked quality time together, she always managed to make breakfast before rushing off to her early shift. I admired her tenacity, her bravery in facing the world alone, and the unique way she lived her life. Yet, she failed to recognize these qualities in herself.

Instead, the weight of depression consumed her. She tried to fill the emptiness inside her heart by dating, hoping for a spark of happiness, but no one could ever replace my father—the true love that resonated in her heart, and mine as well.

After our visit to my father's grave yesterday, we went to our favorite diner across town in Pittsburgh. My mom and dad had taken me there many times, a place that was steeped in memories of their first dates. It seemed cliché, like something out of a movie, but it was true.

"I remember the first time we came here," my mom would say, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "Your dad had that awful haircut, and I just knew I was going to marry him."

I smiled at that thought, the warmth of shared memories wrapping around us like a hug.

At school the next day, my mind lingered on the past. I was sitting at lunch with my friends, Amelia, Noah, and Logan, who were in varying degrees of teasing and comforting me about an awkward encounter I had with a classmate named Cayden.

"For a minute or two, I was scared that Cayden would tell his dad about what I did to him," I said, rolling my eyes. "But you know what? I'm not scared!"

Amelia sighed, clearly unimpressed. "But you still owe him an apology. That was your clumsiness, not just some random accident," she said.

"I blame my clumsiness, not myself," I retorted.

"You still need to talk to him," Noah chimed in, his face serious.

"And Cayden's nice. You'll be fine," Logan added, a comforting grin on his face.

"Okay, but why are you two still here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at Noah and Logan, who exchanged glances. They both looked back at me, clearly amused.

"To make sure you apologize to Cayden," Noah said, crossing his arms. "You really don't want to be in bad terms with him until graduation, do you?"

I shook my head at the thought of enduring that kind of tension. "Well, there you go," Noah said with a smirk. "No pressure, okay?"