Her smile was still bright and full of life, even though we knew what was coming.
Beneath it lay my note: “You are not my mother. No one will ever replace her. Remember that.”
Amanda’s hands started shaking.
“I… I need to go.”
“Honey, wait—” Dad reached for her, but she was already running, leaving her coat and muffler behind as she fled into the snowy night.
Dad came back inside alone, snow melting on his shoulders, his face ashen.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“I gave her a reality check,” I stood my ground. “Did you really think you could replace Mom with someone my age and we’d just accept it?”
“You had no right,” he growled. “You’re not letting me live my life!”
“Live your life?
Mom’s been dead for four weeks! Her side of the bed isn’t even cold!” I was shouting now, years of watching Mom suffer, weeks of watching Dad move on, all pouring out at once. “Did you even love her?”
“How dare you?” His voice broke.
“I loved your mother for 30 years. I watched her fight. I watched her die.
But she’s gone, Lily. She’s gone, and I’m still here. What am I supposed to do?”
“Not this,” I whispered, tears finally falling.
“Anything but this.”
Katie and Sarah stood frozen, Christmas tree lights casting shadows on their tears. Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering Amanda’s footprints as she’d run away from our family’s broken pieces.
My dad blamed me for not letting him move on, but I think his actions were deeply disrespectful to my late mother. I firmly believe I did the right thing by defending her memory and making it unequivocally clear to Amanda that she could never fill my mother’s shoes.
Do you have any opinions on this?
Source: amomama
