Twenty Thousand Reasons

Twenty Thousand Reasons

I hear the roaring of the waves crashing against the rocks at my feet, but where it usually delights me, something feels like it’s missing today… because it is. I stiffen and shift on my throne of rocks, forcing off the tears that are so ready to fall down my unwilling cheeks. All I want is for you to be sitting beside me…

I shake my head and pull the tiny black notebook from my blue velvet bag—both gifts from you—and start to write you the letter I should’ve sent sooner. The check came in the mail today, the one I didn’t anticipate… the one I never expected would come to me. Twenty-thousand dollars can change a life, and though I briefly felt a thrill move through me at the thought of all I could do with that money, the bitter taste replaced the excitement. Part of me wanted to rip up the check that very second, scream a bit as I threw it into the wind, but then I read the letter you sent with it… and I just have to say, it’s not fair that you could have the last word like that, saying all the unsaid words from the past five years. I didn’t get to say my own. I didn’t get to scream, to cry, to hug you… to apologize.

I shake off the frustration, the sorrow. No, I will write this letter, and then all my guilt can be removed. I can finally move on, and then I can let this money change my life… the way you begged me to do in your letter. I still think of your words,

Cara, don’t let our last conversation keep you from living your life. I want you to have all the joys life has to offer, and I don’t want you to hold onto me any longer. I want you to dance, I want you to laugh, and most of all, I want you to live the life I will never hope to live as brightly as you can.

The waves splash me, the ocean singing a song to me that is mournful and soothing, and I almost feel as though you are singing too, even if you aren’t sitting beside me. I feel you… and as fresh tears splash over my face, the waves tossed up to brush over my cheeks, and I swear it’s as if you are wiping my tears away entirely. A soft smile brushes over my lips then, feeling closer to you than I have in years, and it helps me feel lighter too for the first time since that twenty-thousand dollars passed through my fingertips.

Dear Bernard,

I’m sorry for the last thing I said to you… I know you said not to care, not to worry, but how can I not let those words haunt me?

I straighten, trying to force out the agony that accompanies my admission. I don’t want to feel so bad, but… maybe that’s not the truth? Maybe something has been building in me for five years, begging me to make amends? My stubbornness kept me from enjoying you, and this is my chance to say the sorry I believed I’d never have to say.

You were the best I could’ve asked for, even if I didn’t realize it all the time. I know that you loved me more than you probably loved anyone in the entire world, and I’m sorry that my stubbornness kept me from seeing that truth. You are more than our final words to each other, and I genuinely hope you can forgive me. I don’t even want to say thank you for the money, because it doesn’t seem like enough. It’s not fair that you give me this when you can’t enjoy it too. I know you never thought you deserved much in this life, but you did.

Tears are pouring down my cheeks, falling onto the cream-colored pages of that little black notebook you gave me for graduation—the day that we stopped talking completely because of my freaking pride.

Honestly, I would trade every last cent of that $20,000 to get you back dad… I don’t want it. I want you! I know I should just be grateful, but how do I erase all this regret and guilt? You tell me that I shouldn’t feel badly about it, but had I let my pride fade away long enough, I could’ve spent the last five years laughing with you, enjoying our time together. Instead, I have a little notebook and 20,000 other reasons to think about you… but I’d still rather have you.

I’ll see you again one day, and then I can truly apologize, even if it is no longer necessary. I won’t take you for granted a second time, daddy.

Love always and forever,

Cara