Journey's Child

Epilogue

I'm still sitting here on the couch, only now I've gone through a box of Kleenex, with piles of wadded up tissues covering the coffee table and spilling onto the floor. My tea has long grown cold.

Closing the back cover and turning the book over, I study the jacket. It's a section of Thad's painting, the one now hanging over my fireplace. It's been reproduced as the background for the cover. I study the close-up of myself back then, and I feel a slight shutter spread down my body as I run my hand over the jacket's smooth surface and I take in the title – 'Journey's Child' a novel by Alisha Morris.

How could she know so much of my pain from that summer? How could she be so critically reflective of herself? I'm literally seeing my mother for the first time since Drakes Harbor happened to us.

I notice a folded piece of paper sticking out from between the pages. Pulling it free, I carefully open the powder blue linen stationary with my mother's initials embossed in the left corner.

Gilly-

I had this copy especially printed exactly the way I wrote it. Of course the published novel has differences, the names and places being the most obvious. This version is my first and last attempt at an apology for that summer that feels both like yesterday and also a lifetime ago. Thad helped me as much as his memory would allow. With his encouragement for me to work my way through this, I found renewed hope that I might be able to reach you as well.

I've lived that summer over and over again, praying that one day I would have the strength to face it full on. I hope this helps you too, Gilly. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to reach out for you. Please know that I never meant to leave you behind in my grief. I love you with every fiber of my being.

Mom

*

I wish I could move. I need to move, to stretch my legs and take another bathroom break. I finally push myself up and go to the kitchen to get a paper bag to stuff all these wadded up piles of tissue into. Ben will be home in an hour or so and I wouldn't want him to find me like this, although if anyone would understand, it would be him.

Ben and I reconnected while attending San Jose State University. I got my teaching degree and he continued on at UC Santa Cruz, getting his masters in marine biology. Now he's taking classes in oceanography while working at the Monterey Aquarium and I teach sixth grade at Seaside Elementary.

Grabbing the last of the tissue off the table, I see Thad's envelope that came with the painting. I let out a big sigh. I really need to read his letter, too. Getting a glass of ice water and another box of Kleenex, I settle myself back down on the couch in front of the painting that depicts a time that has consumed so many years of my life.

*

Turning the envelope over in my hands, I think back to the 'tween' years. The time sandwiched on either side of before we came home and after. That was where we each retreated into our own way of dealing with all the negative feelings that had been left in the wake of our traumatic losses, guilt and pain.

Each year thereafter held challenges created by that summer in 2003. My mother and I were always at odds in a way that was deeper than the usual teenage angst. Thad refereed, much as he did, I often thought, with his own wife and daughter. Always there, holding us together - he was the light we both saw as we emerged from that period of darkness.

"He's our common denominator," my mother often told me. "We can be grateful for that, Gilly."

My mother's self-help book was published and she immediately began a sequel. Her insights seemed to help a lot of people, but they couldn't help us. Our relationship was strained mostly because I held resentment towards her for the horrible, terrible thing that happened to us that summer back in Drakes Harbor. I tried to let it go, even with counseling, I just couldn't. Now, after reading Journey's Child, I'm beginning to believe that there could be hope for us as well.

Still holding onto the envelope as I hesitate to open it, I think about the last time I saw Thad. He and my mother visited for Christmas a little over seven months ago. They made that trip without Captain. He had died a week after Thanksgiving, while suffering a seizure. The Airedale who saved my life back in 2003 was dead. Captain was fifteen years old. When he told us about it, Thad said he was grateful Captain went first. He then told us that his leukemia was back, and he made it clear it was terminal. He said goodbye to me and told me I couldn't see him again. He wanted me to remember him the way he was.

I close my eyes now, and I can see his silhouette in the doorway. His hair's a little thinner, but the curly mane of my hero, my Aslan, is still clearly visible in my memory.

*

Tearing at the envelope, I pull out the stationary and begin to read. The handwriting is shaky and I can see the effort it took for him to compose it.

My Dearest Gilly-

I hope you can enjoy the painting. It was the one I started that day at your beach when I wasn't sure how it would turn out, remember? I see where you started and I see where you ended up. Not a bad journey Gilly, don't you think?

I can't possibly say everything I would like to - so here are the main points.

1) Forgive your mother – you need each other more than ever. Keep her close because like me, you love her.

2) You and your mother have made my life so wonderful. I was dead inside, until a little red haired waif came into my world and saved me.

3) Lastly, marry that boy, would you? The afternoon I dropped you off for his play and he complimented you before he even looked at Neptune, I knew he was the one for you. Make me right, Gilly.

I don't know what will come next, but if it's at all possible, I will always be near.

I love you, little girl. The storm has passed – time to let the sun shine.

Thad

*

Sobbing into a handful of Kleenex, I can't begin to get a handle on this confused tangle of emotions running through me. All this crying can't be good for the baby. Wiping my nose, I speak into my silent, emotionally charged living room.

"We're going to have a baby, Thad. Ben wants to get married at the cove. I know it's time. I wish you could be with us." I take another deep breath before promising, "No more regrets."

I reach for my phone to call my mom and give her the good news. I know she could use some comfort after Thad's passing. I also know now that we both took away more blessings than pain from Drakes Harbor. Too much time has gone by. I need my mom and I want my baby to know Thad's cove and Drakes Harbor.

Waiting for her to answer, I thumb through the book and come across the dedication page. The simplicity and honor of her inscription makes me smile through my tears. It simply reads...

For Gilly