Slowly, Harlem looked down at the letter Carter was holding. She didn’t have to read who it was from. Harlem would recognize Damian’s handwriting anywhere. With shaky hands, she took the envelope. “How long have you had this?”
“It arrived a couple of days ago. Damian sent me one too. In my letter, he asked that I give it to you on his birthday.”
Harlem’s throat locked up. She couldn’t form words. Instead, she opened the door of the car and got out. She needed the blast of cold to keep her body from going completely numb. It was vital for her to feel all the hurt, the anger, and pain if she were truly going to heal.
Harlem sucked in a deep breath and took the short walk to where Damian had been laid to rest. She held the dozen white roses she’d purchased from the florist in a death grip. It was jarring to see Damian’s headstone for the very first time. She stared at it for a while. Then, bending low to place her flowers into the beautiful bronze vase that was left at the base of his headstone for this very purpose. Slowly, she stood. Her hand caressed his name that was etched into the stone. “Happy Birthday. You always knew how to throw me off balance. I kind of had a whole speech prepared.” Harlem’s hands shook, and it had nothing to do with the cold. She released a humorless laugh. “You talked about my planning skills. I’m going to say, you have one-upped me in that department.” With trembling fingers, Harlem opened the letter.
Hey Beautiful,
Thank you for the white roses. I know you only give those to people that you really care about. This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write. You’re only reading it because I’m no longer physically with you.
Having you in my life has been the greatest gift anyone has ever given me. The way you cared for me at the end. You were amazing. Not many women would wipe a grown man’s ass when he couldn’t wipe it himself. Thank you for being so selfless and loyal. You taught me so much, but nothing more important than about family and love. Unfortunately, I learned some of those lessons too late.
There’s so much I want to say, so much I need to apologize for. But before I get into that, I want you to know that you’re the only woman who ever gave me butterflies. I knew the moment I saw you that it was a wrap for anyone else, and I was determined to make you mine. After six years, you wanted marriage, and I wanted a child, but we both wanted them for the wrong reasons. I didn’t doubt our commitment to one another, but we both knew something was missing between us. My guess is your need to get married was a way to fix it. My desire to have a baby came from the same place. If I had the strength, I would have let you go to find the love of your life.
Here comes the hard part, I knew I was dying before we started in-vitro. It’s the reason why I came up with this crazy scheme to get the two people I love the most together. It wasn’t until after I started to get sick and you found out you were pregnant that I realized I was wrong. I had no right to make these decisions for you, but please understand that I thought her baby was his gift–a baby for you to love and a baby to give Carter life. He would stop going through the motions of life, and you would stop living according to your lists and plans. My guess is children won’t allow you to do that.
I’m sorry that I lied and hid my diagnosis from you. There is not enough I’m sorry’s in the world to justify my actions. I wrongly took it upon myself to think I knew what was best for everyone after I was gone.
I knew that my death would be hard on you and that Carter would have the most difficult time adjusting. He’s alone. His family is shit, and for people like him and me, being vulnerable with our inner feelings is nearly impossible. That was the thing we had in common. I also realized that you and Carter have a chemistry that isn’t easy to find between two people. If we’re honest, it’s a chemistry you and I never shared. I know I shouldn’t say this, but if you both let down your guards, you might realize it too. Maybe you could even help each other heal.
Finally, my letter's purpose is to do in death what I couldn’t do in life–let you go and help you let me go. I know you’re angry, but when that dissipates, please don’t allow your loyalty to me to prevent you from moving forward. Please don’t carry the guilt of not being in love with me haunt you. You’ve always had a little trouble dealing with things when they didn’t go according to your carefully crafted plans. But know this . . . you’re going to be an amazing mother, and Carter will be an incredible father.
I pray that one day you will both forgive me. My intentions were pure, and if I had to do it all over again, I’d do it differently. I only wanted you both to live and thrive. But . . .
