“My aunt is the first to be buried here. It’s one of the newer lots in the cemetery, and one that my parents have reserved for our family—as morbid as that might sound.”
The patch of grass is soft and lush, the area impeccably maintained, and the headstone itself is beautiful—Carrara marble with a grey granite base, bearing the name McPherson in big bold letters—her marital name.
As we step closer, the inscription on the stone comes into clear view.
In loving memory of Amber Janine McPherson.
March 30, 1957—June 26, 2018.
A beloved wife, mother, sister, daughter, and aunt.
Loved beyond words, cherished beyond measure, remembered for eternity.
Releasing a long, heavy breath, my father leans down and carefully places the flowers beside the headstone. His back is to us, so I can’t see the expression on his face, but just as he tries to straighten, he suddenly falls to his knees with a soft thud, as if all his strength has abandoned him. He presses his forehead against the base, his hands gripping the earth beneath him.
The broken sounds that escape him next are utterly heartbreaking—silent sobs that swell into wailing, as if he physically cannot control his cries. His body shakes with the force of his grief, and all Hope and I can do is stand back and watch, giving him this moment to release it all: years of heartache, pain, sorrow, and loss.
“I’m so sorry, Amy,” he sobs into the grass. “God… I’m so, so sorry.”
Hope tucks herself beneath my arm, her hand fisting into my shirt as she tries to muffle her own cries against my chest. I pull her closer, holding her tight, and press tender kisses to the crown of her head.
Our hearts break alongside my father’s as he whispers his apologies over and over. In all my years, I have rarely seen him cry—not at the birth of my brother, Dylan, not when two of his friends died in an accident, not even when his own parents passed away. The only time I have ever truly seen my father break is when it has something to do with the woman whose headstone he now kneels before.
Dad slowly lifts his head and leans back, settling onto his haunches. His shoulders sag forward, and his breathing isuneven and shaky from the force of his sobs, but somehow, he keeps himself upright.
“Forgive me for being late—it took me longer than I ever expected to get here. But I’m here now, and I promise I’ll visit again and again, so we can finally catch up on all the years we’ve lost.”
My father lowers his head, drawing in a sharp, ragged breath. Hope looks up at me with a sad smile, knowing we’re witnessing something truly beautiful between my dad and her late aunt. Even if she’s no longer physically here, we know she’s listening—wherever she may be.
“Was it you who pulled a few strings so that Kaden and Hope would find each other, or was it simply the work of Lady Destiny? Because whatever cosmic force brought them together, I will be forever grateful. It led me back to you—and back to your family. But it also gave my son the kind of happiness he once believed he didn’t deserve to feel again.
“And Hope, she reminds me so much of you. Sometimes I can even see that same fierce spark in her eyes, the very same I used to see in yours. She is as beautiful and kind-hearted as her aunt, as her mother, and I can’t wait to get to know her better.”
Hope closes her eyes and nestles her face into the crook of my neck, listening to my father speak with such deep yearning and affection. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen before, almost as if I’m looking at a completely different person—the real him, the man who once belonged tohisAmy.
“What I really wanted to say—what I’ve waited thirty-seven years to tell you—is that I’m sorry. I miss you, and I want tothank you for the wonderful life we shared. For showing me what it felt like to be truly loved and cared for.Even though it never worked out for us, I always knew that we were exactly where we were meant to be.”
He pauses briefly, his next words catching before he clears his throat and continues.
“I’ve seen your family, and the beautiful life you’ve built. I’ve never seen you look so genuinely happy. And that makes me happy. It’s all I ever wished for you. As for me, I have two wonderful boys who grew into men I’ll always be proud of. They’re my whole world, my reason for living, and I only wish that they could have met you when you were still here.”
My father glances over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine, and for a brief moment, we share something unspoken, something profound, something meaningful. He was never one to express his feelings, but for the first time in my life, I truly feel the depth of his love.
“Wherever you are—wherever God has led you—I hope you’ve finally found peace. I hope you’re no longer suffering, no longer in pain. Most of all, I hope you’re sitting back with a big smile on your face, enjoying all the wine and cheese your heart desires. Because you, my dear, have so much to celebrate. You lived the life you’ve always dreamed of and became everything you always wanted to be—a wife and mother.
“I will miss you, but more than anything, I will always remember you. Rest peacefully, my darling. I will see you soon.”
Lifting two fingers to his lips, he then gently presses them against the small photo of Amber embedded in her headstone.He slowly rises and with small steady steps, makes his way back to us. The moment he reaches us, Hope and I wrap him in a tight hug.
“I love you, Dad,” I whisper to him.
“I love you too—both of you,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek, and then to Hope, who smiles up at him.
He pulls back, and tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Ready to go, Dad?”
He looks back at the headstone, then at us once more. “Yeah, I am,” he says, nodding slowly. “I got what I came here for.”
