Page 251 of A Song for You

Subject: Re: I love you

Husband,

You’re just trying to butter me up since you

left your laundry on the floor in front of the

washer after your hockey game this

morning. It stinks. Do better.

Love,

Your exhausted wife

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

December 8, 2022

Subject: Re: Re: I love you

Husband,

I’m sorry. Your message was really sweet.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow too.

Don’t forget, Chloe and I are leaving early

for our hair appointments. Make sure you

arrange a driver for yourself.

Still head over heels in love with you despite

your disgusting laundry,

Your wife

Sixty-Three

Cat

Not About Angels by Birdy

In my robe and sweats, I sit in the garden my mother designed and read the words on her headstone for the thousandth time in my life. I wanted to celebrate our engagement here, because I knew it would make me feel closer to her. Like we’re including her in some way.

“Hey, Mom,” I whisper, the cold December air leaving me almost breathless. “I got married.”

Maybe it’s foolish talking to a piece of stone. If she’s watching over me like I believe, then she already knows about my wedding. But saying it somehow makes it more real.

“I got married to the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He makes me so incredibly happy. Makes me feel loved, accepted…makes me feel whole.” I swipe at a tear. “And he wants babies, Mom. He wants more children, and he’s the best father ever. But I’m scared. I’m so freaking scared to leave them.” The image on her grave, the silhouette of a woman and her three children held tightly in her arms, comforts me. “But I feel like you didn’t regret it. I don’t remember much, but what I do remember is the way your arms felt when you held us. And the sound of your laugh. God, you had the best laugh. I’d do anything to hear it again.” A sob ripples through my chest, and I drop my head and press my hand against the image, wishing for warmth when all I feel is cold, hard stone.

“Mom,” Chloe says as she approaches me. Her voice is quiet, shaky.

I spin around and pull my daughter into my arms, cradling her how my mother once cradled me.