Chapter 16
Gabriel and I visited Father’s grave together for the first time.
Eight years after exile.
Two years after return.
No audience.
He brought nothing.
I brought flowers.
He mocked me.
Then stood silently for ten minutes.
Finally:
“I hated him.”
“I know.”
“I loved him.”
“I know.”
“He died thinking I betrayed him.”
That was the wound no reconciliation could fix.
“Yes.”
Gabriel looked at the stone.
“Do you think Alistair regretted that?”
“Probably.”
“Doesn’t help.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then:
“Do you regret believing him?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t fix it.”
“No.”
He nodded.
Good.
Truth without demand.
Then he said:
“I’m glad you invited me that night.”
Even though he nearly never arrived.
“I almost didn’t.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
Pride.
Fear.
What if Gabriel rejected me?
What if we had nothing left?
What if I apologized and he laughed?
All pathetic compared with eight stolen years.
“I was afraid.”
Gabriel smiled.
“Boss of Ashford.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed beside our father’s grave.
Maybe sacrilegious.
Father would have hated it.
Perfect.
Before leaving, Gabriel placed one hand on the stone.
“You should’ve checked the full film, Dad.”
Simple.
That was his goodbye for the day.
No forgiveness declaration.
No grand resolution.
May you like
Just one truth directed at someone who could no longer answer.
Sometimes that is all grief allows.
