She picks more of the breading off her chicken, her fingers covered in dark orange sauce now. “Grandma and I were talking when we had brunch...” she starts ominously. And while I have no idea what she could possibly be gearing up to ask me, I’m guessing she’s right in that it’s going to upset me. “It’s just kind of weird that we never talk about my mom. You and me, I mean.”

My heart sinks like a stone to the pit of my stomach. Of course we don’t talk about April. Because for one thing, I don’t think I’m capable of talking about her without breaking down. And for another, I always thought it would hurt May to hear about what she lost. In a way, I thought she was better off than I was by not being able to remember.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tell her, “I thought I was doing what’s best for you.”

“I know,” she says quickly, attempting to clean her hands with a napkin, but they’re too messy. Travis appears out of nowhere with extra napkins, and after he walks away, she turns back to me. “I’m not blaming you, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too, kid.”

She smiles. “I know you do. And I’m sure you don’t talk about her because you don’t want me to be sad. But I think you’re sad. You try to hide it, but I think maybe letting yourself talk about her will help. And I... I think I deserve to hear about my mom.”

“You do,” I choke out. Because she does. Maybe it was selfish of me to hold my memories back from her.

“Grandma talked about her a tiny bit at brunch the other day. And we were thinking maybe it would be nice to have a sort of memorial where we could all talk about her.”

“A memorial?”

No. My gut reaction is to say no. Because I don’t want that.

But May pushes her plate aside and gives me a gentle yet imploring look. “Dad. We both lost her, but I didn’t even know her. I think it’s harder for you than it is for me, and I think you’re holding in a lot of stuff that you might need to let out. I can handle it. I don’t want you to be sad, but I can handle it if you are.”

“I’m not... I don’t...”

It feels like I’m drowning. Like my lungs are filling up with water, not air.