Page 40 of Somewhere You Belong

Call me a momma’s boy, but sometimes just getting a hug from her and some of her hard-earned wisdom can help calm the demons inside.

I’ve always been closer to my mom than my dad, for reasons that she tried to stay out of. But once Dad died, that overprotective need to keep her safe and free from worry multiplied. She’s all I have left, the one person who I’ve always felt supported me no matter what and cheered me on despite the risky decisions I’ve made.

I wish there was more I could do for her, to show her how much I appreciate her and love her, but there’s nothing I can do to take away her grief—just like there’s nothing I can do to let go of the resentment I still harbor toward my father.

Setting down the cups of coffee on the kitchen counter, I peek outside to see if maybe she’s watering her garden. The woman has the greenest thumb I know of, so much so that other residents of our town will seek her out for gardening tips. But the yard remains empty, eerily quiet at this time of day.

A soft cry pulls my attention down the hallway and kicks up my heartrate in the process. I slowly push open the door to my parents’ bedroom, not sure what to expect to see on the other side of the door.

But the image I find is not one I’ll soon forget.

Curled up in a ball on the bedroom floor, my mother clutches one of my father’s shirts to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes are closed tightly as she hiccups between sobs, holding onto one of the last lifelines she has to my dad. A piece of paper rests on the floor beside her.

The grief pouring out of her takes hold of my heart and pulls me toward her instantaneously.

“Mom?” I question softly, not wanting to startle her.

But my effort was in vain.

She shoots up from the floor, wiping under her eyes as I slowly walk toward her and crouch down to her level. “Dallas? What—what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you. I brought you coffee.” Gently, I pull her into my chest, sliding down to sit on the floor beside her bed. I wrap my arms around her and lean back against the bedframe, inhaling deeply. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she says through a sniffle, shutting her eyes again as she clutches the shirt in her hands tightly. “No I’m not. And I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Mom.” I press a kiss to her temple as moisture builds in my eyes.

Fuck, it’s been months since I’ve cried, but the sight of my mother completely broken is something my emotions just can’t ignore. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“I was fine this morning, feeling like today was going to be a good day. And then I started opening the mail from yesterday, and I broke.” She reaches forward to pick up the piece of paper, bringing it closer to my face. And as I take in the words, my heart plummets.

“The veterans’ dinner.”

She nods, her face scrunching up in agony. “This is the first year he won’t be there for this.” Inhaling deeply, she shutters as she exhales. “I’m trying to be strong, like he wanted, like I need to be for you kids. But sometimes…” she trails off, shaking her head as fresh tears stream down her face.

“No one expects you to be strong all the time, Mom.” I pull her in closer as she rests her head on my shoulder. “You lost your husband. We lost our father. We have every right to be angry and sad.”

“I know. I just miss him so much.”

“I miss him too,” I say, even though I can feel my heart twist in my chest as I do. My relationship with my father was complicated, but of course I miss him. Of course I live with regrets that no matter what I did, no matter how many times I was deployed, and no matter how much I’d changed with each return, it never seemed to be enough to earn his respect.

He never wanted me to dedicate my life to the Marines, and what irks me the most is that he never gave me a good enough reason why.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go to the dinner without him. I know they’ll probably say something about him, and I don’t want to break apart in front of everyone.”

“Well, we’ll all be there to support you. Dad would want us there to honor a cause that was so important tohim.”

Even if he never honored my choice.

“I know.” She sighs, melting into me more. “Even though I never wanted you to see me like this, I’m glad you’re here, Dallas.”

“Me too, Mom. I love you.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, holding her close to me. “I wish I could take your pain away.”

“Sometimes I wish that too, but grief is just love with nowhere to go, Dallas. That’s a feeling that is both a blessing and a curse.”

This is what happens when you love someone and they leave—either physically or emotionally. Pain that can borderline on intolerable rests deep in your soul and threatens to stay until you can’t possibly fathom existing without it.

I feel my mother’s pain because I have my own that haunts me too—the loss of my father, the loss of my fellow soldiers, and that mother—the one I couldn’t save.

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