ATHEN
“Hi mum, Dad."
The words leave my mouth barely above a whisper as I crouch beside the two headstones, brushing away the dried leaves clinging to their bases.
I was given a leave day so I could visit my parents' grave. for their memorial I came here every year and sadly this is the first time I’ve visited with good news.
Tears blur my vision as I trace my fingers over the engraved names
Elena and Marcus Dawson
My parents.
My everything.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice cracking like brittle glass. “I should’ve come sooner.”
The guilt coils tighter in my chest, like a vice. Last year, I couldn’t bring myself to step foot here.
I was drowning in pain, in fear, in the crushing weight of being told I had killed my own son.
“Carry on the legacy.” Mum always said to me, but how can I when I can barely hold myself together?
Every night, as I cried myself to sleep, I could hear Dad’s voice in my head, stern but kind, telling me to stand tall. I could see Mum’s soft smile, always believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.
But they aren’t here.
I’m so alone.
The wind picks up slightly, rustling the trees as if they’re responding. My arms wrap around myself as I kneel there, broken and small in the cemetery
“I, uh… I scrubbed in today,” I say, forcing a small smile as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “It was a tough one. Thoracic. Complicated. But I… I did well.”
My voice cracks at the end, and I bite my lip, shaking my head with a soft laugh.
“You’d be proud,” I add, staring at the names carved in stone. “I know you would.”
“I just wish you were here to hug me.” I choke. “I wish I could come home and tell you everything. I wish I wasn’t always walking around pretending I’m fine when inside I’m…” My words trail off, swallowed by the ache in my chest.
A tear slips down my cheek, then another. I don’t bother wiping them away. They fall freely now, soaking into the collar of my coat, tracing the curve of my chin.
“I miss you. God, I miss you both so much.”
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