Chapter 27 - grief made me overprotective exactly when lucy was ready to leave
Martin’s death changed me too.
I became worse.
Respectably worse.
Checked Lucy’s location too often.
Asked for arrival texts.
Preferred daylight driving.
Praised colleges near home.
Subtle.
Still control.
Lucy noticed.
Of course.
At seventeen she was accepted to Northwestern.
Then to a school in California she loved more.
Two thousand miles away.
I immediately hated California.
Earthquakes.
Wildfires.
Traffic.
Distance.
Lucy listened.
Then:
“You want me close because Grandpa died.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I stopped.
She continued.
“You lost the person who helped you when everything went bad.”
“Now you want everyone reachable.”
Too accurate.
“Maybe.”
“I want California.”
The sentence terrified me.
“Why?”
“Program.”
“Weather.”
“New place.”
Then:
“I want to know who I am where everyone doesn’t already know the story.”
That mattered.
At home Lucy was:
The daughter Dad failed.
The child Martin saved.
The girl Adrienne hurt.
The anxious kid.
The motherless daughter.
In California she could be Lucy first.
I hated the idea.
Which made me suspect she needed it.
We visited.
She loved campus.
I found twelve faults.
She ignored every one.
On the flight home:
“I’m going.”
I stared out the window.
Then:
“Okay.”
“You hate it.”
“Yes.”
“Still okay?”
“Yes.”
She took my hand.
That was the version of protection I had spent nearly a decade learning.
May you like
Not preventing departure.
Making sure departure remained possible.
