Page 101 of The Widower
“Yeah? Is that bad?”
“Actually, it’s the opposite.You’re turning me into a better person.”
“But you’re already super nice, Uncle Colin. I like you a lot too, you know?”
She completely disarmed me—no use fighting it. The more I spoke, the more I gave myself away. Sometimes I really should just keep quiet.
“It’s mutual.”
“Huh?”
I smiled.
“I mean I like you too. A lot.”
More than I should, actually.
“Oh. Okay.”
The match had just started, and we both went quiet, watching the game. For someone who talked as much as she did, Hanna stayed still for almost the whole match—and that surprised me.She was really paying attention to Joshua.
Unfortunately, my son’s team lost the game, six to five. But when he came back, I didn’t see any sadness in his eyes. He actually looked happy, though I wasn’t sure why. It could’ve been a lot of things—but I liked to think one of them was because we were there.
Then something unexpected happened… and I mean literally out of nowhere. Hanna ran straight to Joshua and wrapped her arms around him in a long, tight hug.
“You scored two goals for me!”
I looked over at Joshua, who looked back at me, completely confused. My son clearly didn’t know how to react to that, but I just shook my head and half-closed my eyes, silently telling him not to try to make sense of that little girl’s mind.
“I need to go to the bathroom, Uncle Colin.”
“I’ll take you to the ladies’ locker room.”
I waited for her outside the door. Before she went in, I asked if she could manage on her own—and thankfully, she said yes. That would’ve been way too awkward otherwise.
“Why did she hug me? I said I’d score a goal for everyone, but I only scored two. And we still lost.”
“She decided both of those goals were for her.Let it go, son. What matters is that she’s happy. Hanna’s still little—she doesn’t understand everything.”
“At first she was really annoying, but now I like her. Is that wrong, Dad?”
“Why would it be wrong?” I asked, curious about what he meant.
“Well… because of my sister.I’m not betraying her, am I? By playing with Hanna and talking to her?”
I knelt down so we were eye level. Sometimes you have to be a father, not just stand there pretending to be one.
“Son… I’m sure Maddison would be really happy to see you making friends. Your sister was a special girl, and she adored you. I’ve never seen anyone so protective of someone—not even me or your mom. But she wouldn’t want you to be alone. She wouldn’t want you to shut yourself off from the world or live without friends.”
“Then why do you act like that?”
I hadn’t seen that question coming—and it hit hard. It’s one I ask myself every day.Why did I lose interest in life? Why did everything stop mattering? The answer is painfully clear: Maddison.
How am I supposed to give my son strength when I can’t even face my own loss?
Thinking about her death still breaks me, and I doubt I’ll ever really get over it.
“Because I feel responsible for everything,” was all I managed to say.
