Silence.
Not a breath.
Not a blink.
I wasn’t sure anyone at the table still had a pulse.
It wasn’t something I could take back. I’d gone too far—just a smidge.
Ever so slowly, I stood, resting my fingertips on the table while releasing a long, slow breath. “I’m not lost. I’m not having a midlife crisis. What I just said was a reaction from feeling attacked and cornered. I apologize for my offensive language and oversharing. I have bit my tongue with every single one of you at one point or another over the years. I have witnessed you making decisions that I wouldn’t make. I’ve rolled my eyes and sometimes cringed. But I’ve done my very best to let you find your way. Let you be you. Life is incredibly hard all by itself. High expectations and stern judgments only serve to bring people down and make them feel bad about themselves. Your actions are between you and your God. I won’t tell you what to think, who to love, or what you should or shouldn’t do with your body. If you want to get biblical … then here’s the deal. You have one thing to do. Love. That’s it. It’s that simple. You don’t have to police me or anyone else. The one lesson that mattered the most to me while raising you kids was for you to know that being kind humans and showing love to everyone is the greatest purpose—maybe the only true purpose—you have in this life.”
No one offered anything in return. And that hurt.
These were my people.
My parents loved me. I knew that without a doubt.
My kids loved me. I felt it to my bones.
And Craig’s parents used to love me. At that moment, I didn’t know how they felt because I was closing their store, I wanted to divorce their son before he died, and I gave really explicit details about fucking a man who wasn’t their son.
Yeah … they hated me.
Were Linc and Chase upset that I never told them about the fight before Craig died? I didn’t know anything because it all got thrown in my face at one time. And I broke under the pressure.
“I’ll be upstairs if anyone needs me. Thanks for dinner and the nice surprise.” My teeth clenched as my mouth pulled into a tight and ridiculously insincere smile.Chapter Twenty-FiveHe seemed good with the ’til death do us part promise, but he slipped on the ‘love, honor, and cherish.’* * *“Elsie …” Mary eased open my bedroom door as I worked on a quilt in the corner by the window.
Glancing over my shoulder, I searched for a sign to gauge her devastation or heartbreak over the pain that my nosey kids and I had offered over the dinner table. “Hey, Mary.”
She made her way to me. “That’s lovely.” Her head nodded to my half-finished quilt.
“Thanks.”
“Craig visited us …” She stood behind me and gathered my hair, gently stroking it and combing it with her fingers.
I tipped my chin forward.
“After you two argued, he visited us.”
Pain tugged at my heart and wrinkled my face.
Mary continued to play with my hair. It felt so kind, but I couldn’t figure out why she would show me such kindness if she knew more than I thought.
“Craig said you wanted a divorce.”
Tears filled my eyes with a pain I hadn’t felt since I first found out about his accident. I couldn’t imagine being in her shoes. If I had a daughter-in-law who asked my son for a divorce and he later died in an accident, I’m not sure I would have been able to look her in the eye ever again, let alone go an entire year without saying something.
And I know I wouldn’t have been kind … stroking her hair after hearing her say such vulgar things about her intimacy with a man who wasn’t my son—in front of my grandkids.
God … I had so much going through my head—excuses, explanations, lies, truths—but it all jumbled together, and it felt too disrespectful to utter a single word. Really … what could I have said?
How was I supposed to tell Mary that I’d fallen out of love with her son? She thought the world of him, as mothers do. How could I have ever made her see things the way I saw them?
“I should have left Ron twenty years ago, too.”
Wait. What?
I didn’t hear her correctly. There was no way I heard her correctly.
Gentle hands played with my hair. “There was this window of opportunity. Kids were moved out and focused on their own lives. Grandchildren were young enough that we wouldn’t have had to explain anything to them. I still had my teaching certificate and might have been able to get a job to support myself. My parents were still alive to help if I’d needed them. But … I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough to do it.”