“Prepared for this world. I just want you to have the best life. I’ve always just wanted you to have the best life. And at the end of August, maybe the Sunday after you left, I came out here to water the flowers. She was reading something, and she told me that I was going to overwater her flowers. It had been such a hot day, so I gave her flowers a little extra water. She sat right over there and fussed at me. She said I was going to drown it and that overwatering it was going to kill everything it was supposed to grow to be.”
“Hmm,” I intoned, hearing those words in my aunt’s voice. I smiled. “I can absolutely hear her saying that.”
My mom was quiet. “Later, over lunch, she said that I did those flowers like I did you,” she said in a small voice.
My eyebrows flew up. I didn’t know what to say.
“I brushed it off like I always did when she would tell me I was doing too much.” She took a deep breath. “As I was sitting around, listening to you and your friends, it made me think about how much time I spend worrying about you and what will happen, what you need, what could improve your life. But while we were eating, you said something that sounded just like Addison, and then, out of nowhere, I heard Addison’s voice.”
I stared at her profile as she looked out into the garden. I wanted her to continue speaking, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the silence. It felt like if I said anything, the moment would be gone. A full minute passed before she finished her thought.
She turned her head, looking at me with watery eyes. “‘She’s been watered; watch her grow.’”
I gasped.
She swiped at her eyes. “So I’m going to stop overwatering you.”
My lip started to quiver.
“And I know I’m not your Aunt Addy, but I’m your mother and I love you and I’m here for you. Always,” she choked out, barely opening her arms before I threw myself in them.
“I love you,” I whispered, clutching her tight.
We got ourselves together, and then we returned to the house.
“… he said he was fighting demons, whole time, he was fighting accountability,” Aaliyah told my dad.
I laughed uncomfortably. “What?” I looked around. “What are we talking about?”
“Tyson,” Nina, Aaliyah, and Dad all said in unison.
I groaned. “Why are we talking about the past?”
“He reached out to give his condolences,” Dad explained. “And to ask for your phone number.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” I balked. “You talked to him?”
“No!” His frown deepened as he pulled out his cell phone. “He sent me an email.”
Nina shook her head. “And spelled ‘condolences’ wrong. You dodged a bullet.”
“He was a child left behind,” I confirmed.
After a laugh, my dad continued. “I responded with a simple thank-you. If you wanted him to have your number, you would’ve given it to him.”
“What do you think he wanted?” Mom mused.
He probably saw the photo.
“It doesn’t even matter,” I replied.
We talked for a few more minutes before we started to say our goodbyes. The girls and I ended up getting on the road at two o’clock, and our conversation was all over the place. I told them about my dad’s dream, my mom’s moving words, and the void I felt without Aunt Addy.
We spent the drive talking about life and death. With anyone else, it would’ve been a somber conversation. But with my girls, it was cathartic. It was healing. And it inevitably ended with some laughs.
We were making good time heading home. But Nina wanted tostop in Richmond because of a boutique she’d heard about, and making that stop derailed the rest of the day. After shopping at three stores, we found a highly rated soul food restaurant, waited thirty minutes to be seated, and then devoured the most delicious cuisine I’d had in months.
“This is so good,” I gushed halfway through my half rack of ribs and collard greens.
