Chapter51
“I thought you believes it was my fault too, that I was somehow responsible for the accident,” I confessed, my voice cracking with emotion. “If only I was there that day…” The words trailed off as Leona’s hand enveloped mine, her touch warm and comforting. She shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes like stormy seas, as she gazed at me with a deep sadness. Her silence spoke volumes, that we’d both been trapped in our own private hells, each blaming ourselves for the
unthinkable.
“It wasn’t your fault, Wilson,” she assured gently.
“It could’ve happened to anyone. Who knows, if you were there that night at my grandfather’s
place…”
.” Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes, as if the memory was too much to bear. Her face contorted with pain and empathy, and I felt a lump form in my throat as I watched her struggle to contain her emotions. Her hand tightened around mine, a silent reassurance that we were in this together, finally facing the darkness that had haunted us for so long.
Her words made a new perspective dawned on me. I thought of the alternative: what if I had died that day? That caused chilling goosebumps to travel through my body.
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I wouldn’t have been here to witness Willy’s miraculous progress, her small steps towards recovery. And Leona… she would have moved on, found someone else who loved and cherished her
the way she deserved. The thought of losing them both, of never experiencing the beauty of our imperfect family, was unbearable. Gratitude swelled in my chest, with a deep appreciation for this
second chance.
Leona’s eyes snapped open, and she looked at me with a fierce determination.
“Whatever happened was an accident, that’s all,” she said.
“Nobody’s fault, nobody to blame.” She paused, her gaze boring into mine, as if willing me to.
believe her words. “I want you to know that I never blamed you, Wilson. And you shouldn’t blame yourself either.” Her assertion was a lifeline to my plaguing guilt.
“You should learn to forgive yourself before you go seeking others‘ forgiveness, Will,” she advised.
“This constant guilt, it’s not healthy. You’re punishing yourself for something that was never in your control.” Her words illuminated a painful truth: my self–blame had become a toxic cycle, one that I couldn’t break free from. Forgiveness, I realized, had to begin within. I needed to release the burden of guilt, to free myself from the constant wondering of what–ifs, before I could truly move
forward.
I hesitated, searching for the right words to ask the question that had been lingering in my mind. “You must have been so lonely?” I stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly.
I wanted to know how she felt during that dark time, how she coped with the pain and the guilt, how she managed to keep going when I had shut her out. The question was ached for understanding, a
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hope to erase the gap between us and connect on a deeper level. I held my breath, waiting for her response, fearing that I might be reopening old wounds, but needing to know nonetheless,
“I was,” Leona inhaled, as she released a sorrowful sigh.
“I had a paralyzed six–year–old navigating her new life, and my husband was distant, lost in his own guilt.” Her eyes locked onto mine, filled with a deep longing. “I needed your comfort, your assurances, for you to hold me, but you were drowning in your own guilt.” She paused, collecting her thoughts before continuing.
“I’m not saying you weren’t a good husband, Wilson. But your choices after landing that job… they hurt us all so badly.” The words spilled out, a candid expression of the pain and isolation she’d
endured, and I felt the scaring of my absence Inking on my conscience.
I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat. “I should’ve talked to you,” I whispered.
“I shouldn’t have let this guilt consume me, shape me into a different person who made all the wrong, hurtful choices.” My head dropped, unable to bear the weight of my own words. The shame and remorse crushing me beneath it. Leona’s gentle touch on my arm was the only thing that kept
me in the present.
“You’re doing it again,” Leona said gently, her hands settling on my shoulders as she stood up. I looked up, meeting her compassionate gaze. She was right, I was slipping back into the darkness of my guilt.
“It’s late,” she continued, her voice soft and soothing. “Let’s continue this next weekend. You need your sleep.” I nodded with relief and gratitude. Her touch lingered for a moment before she stepped back, her eyes never leaving mine. The understanding and care in her expression offered me a sort of serenity I hadn’t felt for so long.
As I lay down, the ever staying burden of the day’s emotions began to sit heavier, and I realized I felt lighter, freer this time however,
Two simple yet profound things had shifted the burden – Leona’s whispered “Will” – a term of endearment I hadn’t heard in what felt like an eternity – and my own quiet resolve to leave the guilt behind. I had promised myself to look past the shadows of my regret, to move forward no matter what lay ahead. The darkness still lingered, but it no longer felt suffocating. For the first time in years, I felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that redemption was within reach. My eyelids grew heavy, and as I drifted off to sleep, Leona’s words echoed in my mind: “Forgive yourself, Will.”
