Nathan drove to the cemetery because he didn't want to be anywhere else.
Not even his own bed provided any comfort these days.
The headstone was simple,
Elena Salazar,
Etched with her favorite flower.
The earth above her had settled into a low,
Tired mound.
He knelt,
Feeling the cold ground on his knees,
And felt nine years old again,
Small,
Helpless,
Begging the world for a mother who could look beyond her own pain and see him.
I'm messing everything up,
Mom,
He said,
And the words sounded absurd out loud.
A grown man confessing like a child.
I can't face her.
I haven't even reached out.
When Nico came to talk to me,
I pushed him away.
He took her from me.
It all rushed out,
His face feeling hot and flushed.
Wind lifted the leaves.
A gray cloud moved in,
Seemingly right above him.
Why didn't you ever come back to us?
You were always so sad.
It's like I couldn't find you again.
I was glad dad was gone,
But not being able to break you out of your deep sadness?
It shut something down in me.
The admission gutted him.
He hadn't even realized that's what he'd felt.
All that he'd said to her was true,
There at her gravestone.
Nathan just hadn't realized how much of it he'd still been carrying,
How much of it was behind his choices and even his reactions today.
He didn't get enough of what every little boy needs from his parents,
So he'd been chasing enough his entire life.
Fast rides or gathering experiences to turn into stories,
Traveling to amazing places,
Seeking out loud parties,
Anything to drown the quiet where the feelings might live.
With his heart broken open,
Feeling that life had put him on his knees,
Here he could sense his mom's love.
Something so real and true that it transcended the trauma,
And he could feel all of those years now after her death.
He felt a touch of warmth deep in his chest,
And the longer he sat at her gravestone,
The more it grew.
He felt like a little boy on his mom's lap who never wanted the storybook to end.
He hadn't realized that hours had passed.
He left the cemetery at dusk,
A road he knew,
One he'd driven a thousand times before.
Taking that well-known curve too fast,
It's as if time was in slow motion.
At first he felt the slip of the bike,
The scatter of the gravel between his tires,
The violent jolt of the handlebars,
The blinding flash of headlights.
Then came the weightlessness,
The sickening moment of suspension before gravity claimed him,
Followed by the scream of metal tearing against asphalt,
Shattering the night's silence into pieces.
When he opened his eyes in the ambulance,
The paramedic asked,
Is there pain anywhere?
Everywhere,
Nathan said,
And he retreated behind closed eyes.
