Stages of Grace - By Carey Heywood Page 0,33

then pats my hand.

"I never even knew I had an uncle," I say, sniffling. "How old was he?"

"Ronny was nine. Your mother was seven. I had a very hard time dealing with losing Ronny. Your mother and I moved back in with my folks because I could not manage to work after that. Your mother, if possible, took it even worse. To her, Ronny hung the moon. She used to follow him everywhere. Now that he was gone, she seemed lost. I wasn’t much help. I understand that now. I was the adult and should have paid more attention to her grief. I can't claim to have been much of a mother after that. Your mother slowly came around with no help from me. If anything, she took care of me. Five years later, I managed to go back to work and was set on staying at my parent's house this time around. It was just easier that way, and your mother and mine got on so I just stayed."

Kate picks her knitting back up, and I lean my head on a pillow of my hands on the back of the loveseat. "Your mother met your father when she was sixteen years old. She hated him. I think he bullied someone, but your mother, little thing that she was, scared the crap out of him and stopped him. After that, she could not get rid of him. He was like some lovesick puppy that could not leave her be. It wore her down eventually, and before I knew it, every time I turned around I was tripping over them kissing. They didn’t even try to sneak around. It was as though someone sewed their lips together. My father was old-fashioned, and it drove him nuts. I wasn’t happy about it, either. Anne was only seventeen when she found out she was pregnant with you. I could see history repeating itself and your father leaving her just like your grandfather had left me. I tried to talk your mother into going to college and giving you up for adoption, but her heart was set on marrying your father. I just could not believe it would work out and told her so. We were both stubborn, and I told her I never wanted to see her again if she went through with it. That is my greatest regret."

"Your father had a friend who had moved out to Ohio and offered them a place to stay. I tried sending your mother letters over the years, but they all came back return to sender. I know now your father was a good man and didn’t leave her. I only wish I would have trusted that then. I know your mother never forgave me for what I did, and now that she's gone, well, I hope maybe we can have a chance to still be family."

"I'm sorry you never had the chance to talk with her again. I'm sorry she sent your letters back."

"Shh, sweetheart," Kate says, patting me on the cheek. "In time, I will be with Anne and Ronny again."

After our talk, Kate admits to being overtired and needing to lie down. I clear the table and load the dishwasher. I think about putting my suit on and going for a swim but after sitting on my bed decide a bit of rest is in order. I replay the conversation in my head. I cannot imagine how Kate or my mom dealt with Ronny's death. Picturing my mother, only seven years old, with his body breaks my heart. I also cannot understand why my mother had kept all of this from me. I wonder if my father even knew about Ronny. Part of me can understand Kate's advice to do an adoption. My mother had been so young.

I cringe, remembering the very in-depth birds and bees talk I had been subjected to as an adolescent. Had my mother worried the same thing would happen to me? Thinking about it, she did seem to be very pushy about me getting on the pill before I even contemplated having sex for the first time. Even considering all of that, I can't understand why my mother would still refuse to reconcile with Kate. I know she was stubborn, but to keep my own grandmother from me seemed overly harsh. Is there more to the story, I wonder as I fall asleep.

When I wake up the next morning, I consider pulling back the fitted sheet to check