I know I interfered with what you and Luc had going back in high school. I came in like a hurricane, blowing apart the foundation of your young love before its house could be built.
But I can’t be sorry. You had something I desperately needed. Something sweet and clean and bright. And I’m prideful enough to think I had what you needed too. Something different and daring and maybe even a little bit dark.
Perhaps we were fated to be exactly as we were then and as we are now. Two people who grew in love and laughter and friendship. Two people who helped each other stand up, be brave, and embrace all the wonder and fascination this life has to offer.
Please forgive me for any hurt or rejection you’ve felt since I came back. My only excuse is that I knew my time was short, and I wanted you to realize how you truly felt about Luc, how you’ve ALWAYS felt about him, while I was alive. While you and I were still an option. Not for your sake. Or for mine. But for HIS. So he’d never have to wonder if he was your second choice. Especially since you and I both know he’s the best of all three of us.
His love for you is all that mine could never be. Selfless. Unrestrained. And more importantly, RIGHT.
I wish I could be there to see the two of you get married. To watch you become parents. To laugh with you in your old age. But life has a rhythm and it’s unforgiving. There’s a time for living and a time for dying, and none of us gets to choose our own beat.
Luckily, death has this amazing way of showing you what really matters. I’ve realized that what really matters to me isn’t the time I’m going to miss out on but the time I had. It isn’t what I got but what I gave. And it isn’t what I’m taking with me, but what I’m leaving behind.
If the measure of a man’s life is the love he’s given and the love he’s received, then… Oh, Maggie, my time here on earth has been amazing. And I take comfort in knowing that even though life doesn’t go on forever, love does.
Love is stronger than death.
Don’t waste any time mourning for me. Let go of what was, embrace what is, and fill your heart with all that will be.
Get busy building your life with Luc. Hold each other close. Support each other through every triumph and trial. Keep each other safe. But, most importantly, love each other. And know that I’ll always love you, my sparkly, shiny girl.
Cash
Chapter Ninety-three
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Dear Luc,
This isn’t a goodbye letter. It’s a thank-you letter.
Thank you for showing me what it means to be a true and loyal friend. What it means to be an upstanding man. What it means to live a life that’s good.
For a long time, I thought I didn’t have a role model. We both know Rick never fit that bill. But dying has this weird habit of making a person look back over his life. As I look back over mine, I realize everything in me that is thoughtful and kind and wise, I learned from you.
YOU have shown me what it is to be humble and human, to be courageous and caring all at the same time. YOU have been my mentor, my moral compass, the ideal to which I’ve aspired.
I say “aspired” since I don’t think even if I lived to be a hundred years old, I could ever match your grace or selflessness. Even now, I find myself wanting so much to matter. To be important. To be remembered.
The Creole cottage isn’t just my labor of love. It isn’t just because I wanted to make a home for you and Maggie to share. It’s also my selfish attempt to remain a part of your lives.
Neither of us believes in ghosts. And even if I discover that’s an option, don’t worry, I won’t come back to haunt you. But every morning when you wake up, I want to be there in the ceiling medallion I helped plaster, in the bathroom doorframe that took us a whole afternoon to get level, and in the shiplap on the far wall in the master bedroom that we argued about for two weeks.
When you put your firstborn to bed at night in the front room, I want to be there in the varnish on the hardwood floors, in the paint on the cornices in the corners, and in the moonlight that streams in through the windows we hung together on a warm winter afternoon with the sun shining down on our heads.
For every Christmas, every birthday, every humble Waistband Monday where all you and Maggie do is Netflix and chill, I want to be there. Through it all. Through the years.
And speaking of our sweet Southern girl…
Thank you for letting me borrow her from you for a while. Yes, I realize she was only on loan. From the beginning, she was meant to be yours.
I’ve always known it.
You’ve always known it.
Deep down, she’s always known it too.
Back when we were kids, I was the easier option. The one that promised fun for now, but not forever. Which I think is what she needed at the time. Afterward, she held on to the fairy tale of high school sweethearts because, as we both know, she’s stubborn and fanciful in equal measure.
