Chapter Text
Emily hadn’t realised how quiet the house had become. Not until after Julie Molina’s visit and the house went back to a settled silence where the only noise was the ticking of the kitchen clock. She had become so used to the endless still of the house that she had forgotten what it was like for there to be more than just her and Mitch circling each other mutely - lost in the grief of regrets.
Then Julie Molina had come and her voice, hushed though it was, had reminded her of a time when the house had been alive with the thundering of excited footsteps, a landline that was always ringing, and the sound of a guitar wailing in the bedroom. The boundless energy of Luke had been overwhelming at times and back then she had wished nothing more than for some peace and quiet so she could think. Now she had an interminable quietude and it was stifling in a way Luke’s continuous wall of sound hadn’t been. The bitterness of remorse had long since gone - it had taken years but the sour taste of her anguish at the death of her only child had given way to a more subdued sadness - no less constant but tamed by time. It rested at the very heart of her chest but no longer so crushing that it felt as if her body would cave in on itself in despair. The heartache of losing Luke would never go she knew that. It would remain with her until she died. But it had remained a manageable ache.
Until Julie Molina.
The morning after, she woke up and pulled Luke’s words out of her bedside table where she had tucked them last night into the small photo album of her favourite snapshots of happier days. The bold slash of the black pen screamed of her son’s passion for music and made her smile wistfully. She traced her fingers lovingly over each scribbled out word and stroked over the more hastily constructed letters and stuttered over the faint splashes of water that marred the start of one sentence. Teardrops. And then her own began. He had cried over this song - her precious boy, who had stormed out over words she could never take back, had cried whilst writing this beautiful song for her.
“Emily,” Mitch said, kneeling down in front of her and grasping her free hand in his. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
Her breath shuddered as she sought to regain control. “I just...he regretted his words just like I did and I can never tell him. I can never show him just how much I loved him.”
“He knew you loved him. Deep down, below all the hurt and frustration, he knew. This song proves that.”
Thickness covered her throat and she had to swallow several times before she could respond. “If only I had been more understanding of him. Shown him more patience.”
Mitch stood and sat next to her on the bed. Putting his arm around her and staring at the tattered bit of paper. “You know what Dr Kobrus said; about how you can’t think this way. You’ll drown in all this regret if you dwell on these thoughts.”
Emily caressed Luke’s words. Twenty-five years had done nothing to dull the pain of losing him.
“Shall I call Dr Kobrus? Make a new appointment?” Mitch asked.
It wasn’t a bad idea. She knew that there was never an end date for therapy just like her grief. It may have been two and a half decades since Luke had died but the loss was one she carried with her everyday. And some days were worse than others. Going to counselling had helped her accept that.
Putting the song down, Emily swiped under her eyes and gave Mitch a shaky smile. “I will call once the office opens. I think I need to talk this out with her.”
Mitch patted her leg with an understanding nod before he stood back up. “How about I put the coffee on. Today needs a true caffeine kick and yours never quite hits that super strong territory.”
She gave a small huff of laughter at that. Her eyes wandered back to Luke’s song as the echo of his voice begging his dad to put the coffee on before he jumped in the shower sounded across her mind. He’d always needed that little kick the morning after a gig that only Mitch’s coffee gave. She had always pursed her mouth in disapproval at the time, stressing about what the future would hold for her wayward son and his desire to only play with his band. Of course, there had been no future for her to worry about but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. Not if she was going to make it out of bed today.