The empty space on the headstone that once only had my mom’s name and dates is filled. My dad’s name is etched into the granite stone and it just all seems so inconsequential. Their dates of birth and death, when it’s really all of the living they did between those dates that matters the most. I close my eyes, thinking about my life. About the living that I’m doing, wondering if in the end, any of it will matter. Will anyone care if I spend the rest of my life pushing away everyone around me because I’ve been at odds with myself?

Even though it’s freezing and there’s no chance the flowers I brought will survive, I still empty the water bottle into the vase built into the headstone before I put the grocery store bouquet inside. I sit down in front of the large granite stone, and the cold from the grass seeps through the black trousers I wore to work today.

I trace my fingers over the carving of his name. “I think I’m mad at you.”

I’ve come here many times before, but this is the first time I’ve ever spoken out loud. I never talked to my mom. It’s just another thing on a long list of things I’m ashamed of. I was so young when she died and because of that, I never knew her. And how do you miss a person you never knew? And even though my dad always told me stories about her, she felt more like an idea than an actual person. “I’m mad that you guys figured out how to make life work for you, but you both left before I figured it out for myself. And now I’m a grown-ass woman who has tried to live life in this bubble that’s done nothing except prevent anyone from getting close to me.”

The sound of footsteps crunching against the frozen ground pulls my attention away from the stone in front of me. I glance over my shoulder and I’m so glad I’m already sitting, because the sight of Marie and Liv walking toward me makes my muscles go weak.

I push up off the hard ground and scrub away the tears with the back of my hands.

I wrap my arms around them, hoping they can feel how grateful I am for them. “Thank you guys for coming.”

“Of course.” Marie hands me a thermos mug. “Thank you for calling us.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of the hot chocolate she brought me. “Yes, because I’m sure a trip to the cemetery is the way you want to spend your Friday.”

“Yes.” Liv grabs my hand and bores into my eyes. “Supporting our friend who we’ve been worried about is exactly how we want to spend our Friday.”