“Oh. Thanks.” I was surprised by the depth of this conversation. They were more words than we’d ever shared before.

“Do you know what that means, though?” He waited for me to respond.

“What?” I asked tentatively.

“It means that your mom raised you well, and your aunt and uncle continued raising you well. But it’s important to remember that it started with your mom. I can tell that your mom loved you very much and cared about you.”

“Sure.” I wasn’t convinced by his words. He didn’t know anything about my mom. How would he know if she really cared about me or not?

As if sensing my doubt, he continued, “I know it might be hard to see, but as a parent, it’s crystal clear to me. Maybe she didn’t always know how to tell you that she loved you, but she showed it in how well she raised you.”

His words made me think of all the hours my mom had spent teaching me how to think for myself and be responsible. Even when she felt sick from drinking too much the night before, she’d always made time for me and my endless questions.

“Thank you, John. I think you’re right. My mom was a good mother.” It was a revelation I hadn’t expected to have.

He reached over and patted my shoulder. “I have no doubt that your mom must have been so proud of you.”

“Thanks, John.”

He smiled and nodded before leaving me standing alone in front of my mom’s grave.

“Jackson’s dad was right, Mom. You were an amazing mom. I wish I had thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. I know it couldn’t have been easy to raise me alone.” I paused and started to feel emotional. “Mom, I’ll miss you so much.”

Suddenly my legs gave out and I fell to my knees in front of her grave. Then, for the first time in my life, I let go of all the pain, anger, and resentment I’d ever buried inside for my mom. When I let go of all the negative feelings I’d kept inside, tears of pain and loss started streaming down my face as all the fond memories I had of my mom started flooding to the surface. It was as if the floodgates to my emotions opened, and all the tears I hadn’t cried and all the pain that I hadn’t felt came crashing down on me all at once. With every single tear and every ounce of pain, I was finally saying my goodbyes to the woman who loved me more than she’d loved herself.

CHAPTE R NINE

Spring 1998

Thirteen Years Old

“Honey?” There was a soft knock at my bedroom door.

I glanced up from the TV but didn’t respond.

“Honey?” Aunt Betty called out to me again. “I brought you some dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” I finally said to the door that separated us.

“Honey, you haven’t been eating all day. You need to try to eat something. You’re going to get yourself sick if you starve yourself like this.”

I knew she was right. I knew she only meant well. Feeling a little guilty for making her worried, I got up from my bed and walked over to open the door for her.

Her face brightened and I could almost see her body relax and let out a sigh with relief. “So I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat. You missed breakfast and lunch, but I made you your favorites so you can just eat whatever looks good to you.”

In her hand was a large tray of food. There was a plate of bacon, hash browns, and sunny-side-up eggs, a bowl of macaroni and cheese, and a plate of her famous chicken pot pie.

“Thanks, Aunt Betty.” I took the tray from her and set it down on my desk. “You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“No trouble at all, Chloe. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” I knew that was more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just still trying to accept the fact that she’s gone.” I frowned.

She gave me an understanding smile. “I know, honey. I miss her, too. It was just very sudden and she looked like she had been doing great at our last visit, so there was no way we could’ve known.”

“Aunt Betty?” There was something I’d been wanting to her ask her ever since the funeral last week.

“What is it, Chloe?” Her familiar, kind face looked more sunken in and tired.

“Do you think she took all those painkillers on purpose?”

There was a brief silence as Aunt Betty’s face turned somber. “I,” —she let out a deep sigh— “I think it’s a possibility.”

I nodded, unable to respond in any other way at that moment. A part of me had thought that Aunt Betty would humor me and tell me my mom wouldn’t have done such a thing, but instead, she told me what she really thought.

“Do you think if I’d seen her more often, she wouldn’t have…” My voice cracked and I couldn’t finish my question.

“Oh, honey. Please don’t do this to yourself.” She reached over and pulled me in for a hug. “This did not happen because of you. Your mom has been battling depression since before you were born. Some days she’d be fine, but other days she’d turn to alcohol and drugs to cope. And over the years, it just got worse and worse. There was nothing you could have done. This was her battle that she had to face alone. This was her demon that she’d been facing for a very long time.”

“I just feel so guilty, though,” I whispered, my words slightly muffled against her chest. “I just keep imagining how alone and sad she must have been to do such a thing, to give up like that, to feel like there was nothing left in this world to live for.”

“Chloe, listen to me.” She pulled me from her arms to look me in the eyes. “Your mother loved you, very much. You were the most important thing in her life. You have to understand that she probably wasn’t thinking straight when she took those pills. She wasn’t asking herself if there was anything to live for.”

I knew she was right, but it didn’t seem to matter. Knowing she loved me didn’t bring her back. Aunt Betty stayed with me in my room for another half hour, forcing me to eat at least five mouthfuls of food before she would leave my room. When she finally left me, I felt exhausted and lonely. I realized I didn’t want to be by myself. I didn’t want to spend any more time inside my head where I would just think about my mom and wonder what I could have done differently.

A part of me wanted to call out to Aunt Betty and ask her to stay with me for a bit longer. But then there was the other part of me that didn’t want to admit that I needed any help.

But before I could make a decision on what to do, there was a soft knock at my door again.

“Chloe? It’s me again,” Aunt Betty’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Jackson’s here to see you. Do you want me to have him come up? Or do you want me to send him away?”

“He can come up. Thanks, Aunt Betty.”

A few minutes later, Jackson walked in to my room. “Hey.”

I could tell he was a little nervous. We hadn’t seen each other since the funeral, and other than a few vacations he’d gone on with his parents, it’d been the longest period of time we’d been apart. It wasn’t because he hadn’t tried to see me. He had. But each time he’d stopped by to see me, I’d told Aunt Betty that I wasn’t ready to see anyone.

“Hi. Thanks for coming to see me.” It wasn’t until I saw Jackson that I realized how much I’d missed him during the last several days.

He walked over slowly and sat down next to me on the bed. “How are you?”

I shrugged.

He nodded as if to say he understood.

There was a long moment of silence before he finally spoke again.

“So, I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately.”

My ears perked up and I slowly looked at him. “Reading? But you don’t really like to read, outside of mandatory school stuff.” I tried to think back to all the times I’d seen him read or mention reading something outside of school-assigned reading in case I was wrong.