Page 258 of Remy

I could never have said goodbye to you.

Not in a million years.

If I was a stronger man, maybe things would’ve been different. I could’ve told you the truth, and you could’ve held my hand as I took my last breath. But I think we both know you would’ve fought to delay the inevitable, and I would’ve caved to your sadness.

This way, you didn’t have to watch your father slowly die an inhumane death. And your heartbreak won’t be the last memory I take from this earth.

In both regards, I’m grateful.

I said my own subtle farewell to you tonight. I made you laugh. I watched you smile. And I can rest easy knowing Remy will be by your side when the news breaks.

Please take care of him for me because through this journey, all he’s done is try to take care of you.

He sought the best doctors—for you.

He pushed me to continue the chemo—for you.

He made me vow to tell you my end-of-life plan—for you, my dear fragolina—but my commitment had always been a lie, and for that betrayal, please help him understand I’ll forever be sorry.

He deserved better. We all did.

Now that I’m gone, I want you to live your life. Don’t cling to family tradition if the funeral home isn’t your passion. I’ll be proud of you no matter where your future leads.

You were the best thing in my life. And your mother’s.

Live for both of us.

Let your hair down. Explore. Create. Get in trouble (just not too much).

And please tell Remy I loved him like a son.

With all my heart, until we meet again,

Dad xoxo

I clench my teeth, trying to keep my shit together.

I loved him like a son.

The words sink under my skin, chipping away at old wounds and new.

I fucking hate this. The discomfort. The ache.

I fold the letter and hand it back, every beat of my pulse pounding heavy behind my eyes.

“You helped him,” she whispers. “You gave him the peace I never would’ve been able to provide.”

“I wouldn’t have if I’d known.”

“I don’t believe that.” She cocks her head, her somber gaze scrutinizing. “You have a horrible job, Remy, but there’s so much good in you. My dad recognized that. I’m sure it’s why he trusted you with his plan.”

“Until he didn’t.”

“Until we got too close,” she counters. “At the start, he probably thought he could talk his way out of the commitment he made you. But then things changed. We changed. And like he said, if I’d known, I would’ve selfishly talked him out of using the pento.”

I drag her back onto my lap, needing her closer. “It’s not selfish to have wanted more time with him.”

“It is if it’s at the expense of his pain and suffering.” She turns into me, her shoulder leaning on my chest, her forehead resting against my cheek. “He made the right decision, Remy. I believe that, even though it hurts like hell.”

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