Angela wasted no time grabbing what she needed and a few of the dozen cookies she’d baked, without the kids noticing yet.
“Goodness, where to begin?” The room was a mess, with clothing and newspapers scattered everywhere. Her mother’sphoto still sat on the nightstand beside her father’s bed, where it had been since she passed away.
Finding her mother’s favorite shawl hanging in the closet was no surprise; still, she folded it and placed it on the window ledge for safekeeping. “The only thing left of Mom right now is the jewelry we got from Dad long ago. Might as well keep the shawl in case any of the grandkids or Emma want it.”
Secretly, she directed the thoughts toward them, while her heart yearned to wrap the shawl around her shoulders to feel close to her.
Angela was busy for quite a while, boxing up knick-knacks, mostly chosen by her mother, and clothing that smelled of her father. Halfway through cleaning his room, she wondered why she had taken on the task of doing this room when she found a photo of herself, Emma, and their father.
“Oh, Dad.” Sitting on the bed and overcome with emotion, it was easy to ignore the chaos outside the half-open door.
She studied the picture, with her on one side of her father and Emma on the other, all three smiling as if nothing in the world mattered but that moment. That memory, clear in her mind, touched a spot in her heart she wasn’t ready to feel.
The tears streamed down as she held the picture close to her heart. “Mom’s birthday. We went to the festival every year for Mom’s birthday to honor her memory after she passed. Oh gosh, Dad.”
So loved, her mother’s life became a reason for celebration in the years that followed her passing. Her father had always been a mess that day, reciting poetry he’d used to win her heart and feeling joy over the blessing of the birth of the woman who’d made his life whole.
He’d cry, they’d all cry, laugh, and have a blast celebrating her day, complete with birthday cake and something fun to do. That year, a local festival was held in town. They’d take a photoand make multiple copies, one for Mom’s grave, another for Jack, and one for her and Emma.
He’d always end the night drunk, drowning in the sorrow that finally overwhelmed him after reality hit and his love was no longer there. Emma was usually the one who’d tuck him into bed, promising that one day he’d see her again in due time—they all would.
The joys and sorrows of life without a mother they desperately needed were nothing compared to the sadness of living with a father who needed her more. This moment she held close to her heart, one of the few joyful moments captured to remember.
When she’d cried too much for her own liking, she tucked the photo in her pocket, refusing to put it away. “Dad…I always loved you, even when you didn’t love me so much. I forgive you for that. I know being pregnant out of wedlock was hard, but sending me away was even harder.”
The day was spent cleaning, and by dinner time, she’d cleaned all but the nightstand that held an assortment of things when she’d opened the top drawer.
Steven had come and gone, checking on her, as if needing something from her but holding back from joining in the tree decorating or being part of something. It made her feel good knowing he had family around him at a time like this. She, not so much.
Over the years, Angela had become accustomed to living on her own and handling things herself. While she and Emma remained close, and visiting the ranch was a joyful occasion, it was often more than she could handle.
Admitting she was more like her father than she realized would have been a stretch, but deep down she knew it.
“Are you coming out for dinner? The tree is decorated, and I baked the rest of the cookies you had in the fridge for dessert. Ifigure we can put the angel on top of the tree after dinner when we light it up.”
“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.”
Angela kept moving, cleaning up the mess she’d made while trying to create order. A stack of boxes, garbage bags, and bins sat beside the door where Emma stood, her cheerful smile always welcoming.
“It looks good. Saving the nightstand for last.”
“Yeah, we both know that’s where he kept the important things. The rest was easy. If I don’t get to it tonight, I’ll go through it in the morning.”
“Thanks. Come on, leave that.” Emma held out her hand.
Feeling the need for connection and her emotions weighing heavily on her, Angela set aside the things she was holding and took her sister's hand. “I love you, you know that, sis?”
“I do, and ditto, love you more. This is hard work, especially for you, but I think it's good—you can finally make peace with him even if he’s not here.”
Those words stayed with her through the wonderful pot roast dinner Emma and her family prepared. “This was so delicious, Emma. I think I need to get a fitness center in Oklahoma. That way, I have an excuse to visit and have dinner.”
Angela neatly folded her napkin, not at all surprised to see Steven get up from the table after being quietly thoughtful for most of it.
“Thank you. Yeah, we could use one of those where we live.” Emma clasped her husband's hand beside her, their loving gazes meeting.
“I love you just the way you are, and no gym is going to change that. Though, it might be good for both of our health.” He kissed her hand warmly, sparking a wave of envy inside Angela.
“Come on, we’re going to hang that angel and light this tree,” Emma said as she got up, pushing the ladder Brandon had already set in place.
