I’d known. I’d known from the moment that flower had risen from the ground at Rhys’s command and bloomed for Shahidi that my father’s time was up. He wouldn’t stand between them, and staying inside Shy meant they couldn’t be together, couldn’t explore their feelings for one another. My dad would sacrifice for them. But there were other ways. “We’ll find another vessel.”
He shook his head, calm as I’d ever seen him. He was at peace with the decision he’d made. “No. My life was done a long time ago, my love. These last years have been a gift. They were a gift from Heaven, and a gift from this young woman who welcomed me inside her soul. She’s carried all of my burdens for years now. She carried them and shared herself with me in a way I can’t imagine. I honor her by letting her go. She’s going to be my granddaughter-in-law one day, if she’s brave enough. She’s been a joy to me, too. Getting to see the world through her eyes was a revelation, and she has so much to offer. She can do great things.”
He wasn’t merely talking to me. He was talking to Shy. He was letting her know he approved of her feelings and that he loved her, too.
“Dad, we still need you.” I wasn’t sure I could handle this. The ground beneath me wasn’t stable, and I needed my dad.
But wouldn’t I always? Wasn’t that the sad truth of this relationship of ours? I would never be okay with losing my father.
“And I’ll be here.” He put a hand right above my heart. “I’ll always live here. I’ll be with you the way my mum and dad were with me. This is the natural way of things. It’s time to take my place. That door is open. It’s been with me the whole time, you know. It hovers close, always there if I want to use it, but it’s open wide now. It’s telling me it’s time. I’m not afraid of it. That’s the funny thing. I’m afraid to not go through it.”
I wanted to beg him to stay. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t ready to lose him, wasn’t ready to be without my dad. I could do it. I could plead with him, guilt him into staying with me.
“Are you sure?” was the only question that came out of my mouth.
He nodded slowly. “You’re safe. My grandkids are safe. I know you’ve got a battle ahead of you, but if there is one thing I’ve learned it’s that you will win. You and Danny and Devinshea. You won’t stop, and you three will make things right. No one can stop my girl when she decides to fight. And you’ll figure out which battle is worth fighting and which one is futile.”
He was telling me what they all had been, and yet somehow when he said it, I felt the truth.
“You don’t think I can go back and fix it, do you, Daddy?” I could barely see for the tears streaming down my face.
“No, my love, you cannot, and deep inside you know it. You can’t fix it any more than I could fix what you had to go through. And your children—the ones you’re trying to save—they wouldn’t have you go back, either. They know there is only one way to move and that is forward. Love them for the amazing people they are now. You gave them a family even when you were gone. You had people who were so loyal to you that they gave years of their lives to love and support your children. You were there. You were there every time Albert tucked them in. Every time Sasha taught them a lesson on how to survive. You were there when Neil played games with them and when Trent fought for them. If Sarah could have, she would have mothered your children with every piece of her soul. Even when Zack and Lisa were aching with what happened to him, they took your children in and gave them everything they had. You built that network, and it was there when your children needed it. You will never get over the loss of those years. But don’t cost yourself a day more with regret.”
I had to let it go. I didn’t want to. I wanted to fool myself that I could fix it, but some things can’t be made “right.” I had been in a haze of guilt and loss, but my father’s words pierced that veil. I couldn’t go back. If I did I threatened the whole world, including my children. My grief seemed endless, but my joy could be, too, if I only held on and got through the pain.
My children were alive. They’d survived. They’d stayed a family. I couldn’t protect them from pain, couldn’t wrap them up and ensure nothing bad ever happened to them. If I did, I also kept them from a real life because no one got out pain free.