It was easier to let him live in my memories. But I felt like I needed to see him right now, despite my resistance to touching my grief.

The cemetery where he was buried wasn’t far from Mom’s house. They’d planned it that way on purpose, in case either one of them passed, the other wouldn’t have far to go.

I didn’t know how often my mom visited, but I hoped the closeness at least gave her some peace.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Wes asked.

“No, thank you, Wes.”

This was something I needed to do alone.

Dad’s grave was in the corner beneath a willow tree, backed by the tall wrought-iron fences. There was space next to him for when Mom passed, and a bench under the tree.

A fading bouquet of flowers rested against the pale stone. Tiger lilies, like he always bought for my mom. I looked away briefly, blinking away the tears.

It felt like an eternity, but he hadn’t been gone that long, and every day I ignored the hole he left. Right now it was a jagged, gaping wound.

The bench didn’t feel right. I sat down on the grass right in front of the stone and traced his name with my fingers.

He wasn’t here—I knew that. But I needed the relief of speaking out loud. “Hi, Dad.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “It’s been a while. I hope you don’t mind.”

There was no way for me to keep it together. I pressed my face in between my knees and let the tears come. “I’m sorry I can’t come here as often. It feels like it’s harder for me than everyone else. Just like everything.”

A breeze picked up, stirring the branches of the willow surrounding me. It smelled fresh and green, so far away from Dad’s scent, but it was still comforting. I missed the rich smell of leather that always surrounded him.

“I met a pack, dad. You’re probably rolling your eyes and saying ‘finally.’ But… I really like them.” It was more than that, but those words were stuck in my throat. “Mom doesn’t, but I think you would. I hope you would. Honestly, just everything. I hope you’d like what Eva and I have done since you’ve been gone, and I hope you’d be proud of us. Of me.”

My voice cracked on the last word.

I never let this pain in. Never thought about it or even let it surface because it was too much, and if it was this bad for me, I couldn’t even imagine how hard it was for mom.

“I really fucking miss you.”