Journal Entry #39
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Victor
Grief is a strange thing.
I’ve talked about my dad before, so you know he passed away when I was six years old. He and my baby sister Caroline were struck by an impaired driver while crossing the street on a clearly-marked crosswalk at nine o’clock in the morning. I’ve gone to that spot, probably hundreds of times over the past twenty years, trying to make sense of something utterly senseless.
For pretty much my whole life, I’ve struggled to understand why God or Fate or whatever force controls the universe would allow me to grow up with such a vital part missing from my existence. I’ve had to rely on people who are not my father to fulfill a father role for me. Uncle Stephen, Julian, Papa Giancarlo, Grandpa Michael and even Uncle JP have had to step in as mentors and role models. I’m sure they would’ve done it regardless, but it would’ve been better if they hadn’t needed to pass around the responsibility for me to whomever it was most convenient for at the time. Plus, I’m sure it was awkward for them, having to acknowledge that my father was gone and yet also trying to never mention it in my presence.
I'm certain that losing my father has shaped the entire trajectory of my life. If I still had him, maybe I would’ve turned out better. Maybe I’d be more prepared for adult life, more emotionally stable, and less likely to worry about being a burden to people.
I’ve always tried to be self-sufficient, and I've made it a priority to take care of others and to be the strong one. I don't want to be weak or to be somebody else’s problem. Up until recently, I thought that was a character strength, but lately I’m beginning to see that other people want me to rely on them as much as they rely on me and that I actually need to accept other people’s support without feeling ashamed or guilty about it.
But I was talking about the unpredictability of grief.
People like to say kids are resilient, but I’m not convinced that’s true. Kids are good at living in the moment, so emotions like grief might be obvious one minute and unnoticeable the next, but just because you don’t see a kid expressing a certain emotion, that doesn’t mean it’s totally gone from their mind. Also, the way they interpret and process emotions is different than the way adults do it, and not being able to understand the nuances and implications of what they're feeling can have lasting consequences.
Trauma stays with you even when you’re not actively thinking about it. Anything like a sound, a scent, a random memory or something you see or experience can bring it all crashing in on you again. That’s how it was for me when I was a kid, and how it still is sometimes. I can go days or weeks without thinking about my dad, and then something will come up that reminds me of him and then the pain is worse than ever.
I feel as if losing my dad at a young age is kind of a double-edged sword, cutting no matter which way one swings it. Like, I was only six when he passed, so it’s fair to say I didn’t know him all that well and I don’t have as many clear memories of him as I might've had if he’d died when I was older. That fact should lessen the pain, but it doesn’t.
On the other side of it, he’s fixed permanently in my mind as this big, strong, handsome hero; somebody who I’d idolized and who I’d never gotten a chance to form any negative opinions about. I’m sure I believed he’d be around forever and that nothing bad could possibly ever happen to him. As if grappling with a loss I couldn’t comprehend wasn’t already terrible enough, that made the shock and pain and disbelief even greater.
Sometimes I can see his face in my imagination as sharply as if it were a photograph, and sometimes I can barely recall what he looked like at all. Not being able to remember his face fills me with an incredible amount of guilt and shame, even though I know it shouldn’t. As illogical as it is, forgetting feels like a kind of betrayal, like I’m a bad son for not being able to sustain a perfect recollection of him.
I think all of this is part of the reason why I never want kids of my own. I don’t want that responsibility. I don’t want to run the risk of anyone depending on me so completely that their life would be permanently altered if anything should happen to me. I also don’t want to risk losing anyone else I love so deeply. Just the mere idea of losing Yuri or my mom can push me into a panic attack. I’d be a wreck if I had to deal with that same fear over somebody as precious and fragile and vulnerable as my own kid.
I guess it’s a good thing Yuri doesn’t like children, much less want any. It saves us from having to discuss it beyond what we’ve already told each other. We don’t have to touch the subject of adoption or surrogacy or the whole science baby thing they're experimenting with now. All of it’s off the table for us, and honestly, I’m relieved.
But now you’re all wondering why I’m talking about this, right?
Yuri and I are going back to Japan in a couple of days, and my mom wanted to take a day to spend with me before we go. One of the things Mom and I did was to visit my dad’s and sister’s graves and bring them some flowers.
Mom told me that she doesn’t go there much any more. It's not because she loves Dad and Caroline less than she did before, but because seeing their headstones brings back too many sad memories and opens up wounds that have never fully healed. She said she prefers to remember them as they were when they were alive. I get that. Visiting them is hard for me, too.
The reason we went there this time was because Mom said she needed to be sure she was at peace with a decision she’d made. It wasn’t about closure, exactly. It was more like she wanted to say something out loud, and maybe it felt less weird to her if she could convince herself she was saying it to Dad.
She wanted to talk to me about it as well, but she didn’t say what it was at first. It seemed pretty serious, so I let her sit by Dad’s grave and work it out. I placed the pink teddy bear ornament I’d brought for Caroline, and then I just wandered around and looked at flowers and the headstones of strangers because I didn't want to eavesdrop on my mother.
When Mom was done, she came to find me. She took my arm, and we turned away from the graves and walked along until we found a bench under a tree.
“Everything okay?” I asked as we sat down.
“As well as can be expected,” Mom said.
“Yeah, I understand.”
“I know you do,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “It’s not easy for you either. Harder, maybe. He was your soulmate.”
Mom was quiet for what seemed like several minutes. I’m sure it wasn’t really that long, but the silence was uncomfortable. At last, she reached across the space between us, took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “I think it's time for you to know the truth about your dad and me."
I frowned, confused and suddenly a little scared. “The truth about what?”
“I loved your dad. I cared deeply for him, but I don’t think he was my soulmate. That’s someone else.”
“What?” I blurted.
“You’re lucky, Victor," she said. "You found your truest love and married him. I… I didn’t find mine until after I was already married to your father.”
“What do you mean?” I said. I already didn’t like this conversation, didn’t like where it was going or what it implied. “How could you have married somebody who wasn’t your soulmate? And how could you fall in love with somebody else while you were married to Dad?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Probably because I didn’t believe in soulmates until I found mine. I really did love your father, and I would’ve been content to spend the rest of my life with him. I was never unfaithful, I want you to know that. I loved Thomas too much to hurt him that way.”
“So, you loved two people at the same time?” I questioned.
“It’s possible.”
“Who was it?” I asked. “The other man, I mean.” I was positive I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear her say it. I needed to hear the name spoken aloud.
“Julian,” she said.
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to feel hurt or disappointed or… something negative because that’s how my inner child told me I should feel. It was my instantaneous response. But that quick surge of emotion faded just as rapidly, and what I was left with was something like resignation.
Yuri had tried to tell me that he thought my mother and Julian were more than friends, and I had stubbornly refused to see it. Or more accurately, I had seen it — had been seeing it for a very long time, in fact — but had chosen to bury my head deep in the sand of denial because of some misguided idea that my mom loving someone else would somehow dishonour my dad’s memory.
“It’s why he didn’t stay married to Ellie’s mom, isn’t it?”
“No,” she said. "Julian and Christine had problems that had nothing to do with me or Thomas. He didn't stay married to Christine because she was bad for him. She hurt him in ways that a person should never do to someone they claim to love."
“Maybe she knew he was in love with you the whole time.”
“I don't know if she did, but even so, that's no excuse for how she treated him," Mom said. "In any case, I think he saw the potential of being in love with me from the first moment we met, but he was engaged to Christine then, and your dad and I were already married. We became friends anyway, and your dad was okay with that. Julian loved him too, like the brother he always wanted." She smiled. "We were the original team, you know. Your Uncle Stephen and Aunt Millie, Julian, Thomas and me.”
“What about Christine?”
“Honestly? None of us were close with her and none of us thought she was good for Julian. I don’t think he should’ve married her, but then we wouldn’t have had Ellie in our lives, would we?”
“I’m glad we have Ellie,” I said.
“Me too,” she agreed. “There was a point when Julian and I thought the two of you might end up together.”
I shook my head. “That never would've happened. She's practically my sister. Besides, her soulmate is somebody else."
Mom raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I think it’s Leo, but don’t tell anybody, okay? Leo told me some stuff, but he hasn’t talked to Ellie yet.”
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “The secret’s safe.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I need to know more about you and Julian. How could Dad be okay with having him around, if he knew he was in love with you?”
“I’m not sure Thomas ever knew,” she said. “For a while, I even wondered whether Julian actually was in love with me or if we’d both imagined it.”
“Like, maybe it was just a crush or something?”
“That’s what I thought, or maybe what I’d hoped,” she said. “When Julian started getting to know your father, it seemed like whatever romantic feelings he'd had for me went into the background. I was relieved because it was easier to be his best friend than his unrequited love. I’m sure Julian still thought about it, but we never discussed it.”
“And then Dad died, and Julian was there.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said. “Yes, Julian was there, but still only as a friend. He was almost as devastated by Thomas’ death as I was, and he was in the middle of divorcing Christine at the time too, so he had his own problems. We leaned on each other a lot, but nothing romantic really developed until years after your dad passed.”
“Years? Like two years or ten years, or…?”
“About five years.”
“Me and Ellie would’ve been like, eleven and ten?”
“Around that, yes.”
“And you never thought you should’ve told us?”
“We didn’t at first because we thought it’d be too emotionally difficult for the two of you. Then, after a while, not telling anyone sort of became a habit.”
“So, you guys have been having a secret affair for basically fifteen years?”
“I doubt it's much of a secret to most people, and we were both free, so it's not an affair."
“You know what I mean.” I experienced an irrational spark of annoyance, but tried my best to push it down, initially confused as to why I was more upset by her not telling me about the relationship than by the relationship itself. “I might’ve liked to know before now.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t work it out for yourself,” she said. “Ellie did.”
“Yeah, well you know Ellie’s a lot smarter than me. You shouldn’t have expected me to figure it out.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine," I said. "I know now.”
“And you’re angry about it.”
“No.” I sighed. “I’m not angry about you and Julian being a thing. I mean, people shouldn’t have to be lonely forever. It’s just… It would’ve been nice not to find out this way, after fifteen years. Like, I get you not wanting to say anything when I was a kid, 'cause I definitely wouldn’t have understood it, but when I got old enough to start dating people myself…” I shrugged. “No, forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Clearly it does,” Mom said. “You wouldn’t be upset if it didn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I repeated. “You told me. I know. That’s it.”
“That’s not it,” she said. “We’re not done talking about this.”
“What’s left to say?”
I watched as she visibly drew in on herself, and I realized that she was hesitating because she was afraid of how I’d react. I tried to calm my racing mind. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help, and neither would panicking or losing my temper.
She pulled in an audible, deep breath and then released it slowly. “Julian asked me again if I’d marry him. This time, I said yes.”
“Again?” I stared at her. “He asked you… again.”
“The first time he asked was nearly two years ago,” she said. “It was on Valentine’s day, just a week or so after you left. The timing was wrong. I wasn’t ready.”
“But now you are?”
"Yes,” she confirmed. “Now, I am.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” I said, because I really didn’t.
I attempted to figure out how I felt and came up empty, unable to find a name for what was going on in my head. Stunned didn’t seem to be enough. Blindsided, maybe. Whatever it was, it was the mental equivalent of being kicked in the stomach and having all the air knocked out of me.
Although I couldn’t decipher it in that moment, looking back on it now, I can say inside my head was a mixture of shock, pain and insult. I’m still not sure there’s a specific word for all that.
As if Mom was able to read my thoughts, she said, “You don’t have to say anything. We can talk about it later, once you decide how you feel about it.”
“Does it matter how I feel about it?” I said. “Apparently you never cared enough to tell me he was your boyfriend before now, so what difference does it make how I feel about you marrying him? You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”
“Victor—”
“You don’t need my permission,” I said “We’re all adults, right?”
“I am going to do it anyway. I’m not asking for your permission,” she said quietly. “I was hoping for your blessing.”
“Do what you want,” I said.
Abruptly, she stood up from the bench, and the change in her expression when she faced me was terrifying. “Do you think that attitude is appropriate?” she demanded. “Would you have liked it if that’s the attitude I’d taken about you marrying Yuri?”
“You knew me and Yuri were together. We didn’t keep it a secret from everybody for fifteen years!” I shot back, and suddenly I had no trouble identifying my dominant emotion. “Besides, we didn’t even know we were getting married until literally two days before we did it. If one of us had proposed the normal way, we would’ve told you because we trust and respect you enough to share important stuff like that.”
“You think I don’t trust or respect you?”
"What should I think?" I said. "Why else would you keep something like that from me for so long, unless you thought I couldn’t handle it?"
"That wasn't the reason."
"Wasn't it? I might not be the smartest or most grown up person, but I’m not a baby and I’m not an idiot!”
“I’ve never once thought that about you,” she said.
“Really? Because that’s not how it feels from here.”
“All I’ve ever wanted to do was protect you.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t need—“
Halfway through the sentence, I caught my breath. I remembered the conversation I’d had with Ellie a few days after we’d arrived here, when she said she would be angry if someone she loved kept things from her for what they thought was her own protection. I hadn’t fully understood it then, but in that moment I absolutely did. I realized that being overprotective isn’t good. It’s the opposite of good. It’s hurtful and damaging and it erodes trust on both sides.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when hot tears started streaming down my face. My eyes and throat burned, and I fought to get enough air around the lump in my throat to continue speaking.
"I want you to trust me, Mom,” I pleaded. “I want you to treat me like an adult and have enough faith in me to believe I can handle stuff. I might not be good at it, but I’m learning how to grow up and I… I deserve a chance to prove to you that I can.”
She gazed at me for a long time. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and tried to get my composure back, to no avail.
After a while, she said. “You’re right.”
I sniffled. “What?”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry,” she said. She reached for my hand and helped pull me to my feet so that I didn’t have to crane my neck to look up at her. “You are an adult. I thought I was doing fine with letting you live your life and make your own choices, but I guess I forgot there’s more to it than that.”
“Yeah.”
“I know it’s difficult for you to see it from my point of view, but sometimes it’s a struggle to let go of how things have always been.”
“Change is hard for me too," I said. "But we all have to do it.”
“There was a time when you wouldn’t have wanted anything to change,” she said. “You would’ve wanted me to protect you from everything, and I suppose part of me can’t stop thinking of you as that little boy.”
It was true. There was a time when I would’ve been more than willing to let her protect me from everything. As much as I don't want to be dependent on anyone else, it’s always been different with Mom. I’ve always felt like it was okay to rely on her, and I've tried to make it clear that she can rely on me. For the longest time, I felt like it was just me and her against the world and that it was up to us to protect each other.
But something changed. I don’t know if it was when I moved out on my own for the first time or when I met Yuri or when I left for Matsumori, but I started thinking less and less that it was just her and me. It wasn't that I loved her less than before, and it wasn't that I didn’t want to look after her or that I didn’t want her to take care of me. It was just that being independent became more important to me. I wanted to be autonomous. I wanted to prove to myself that I was at least intelligent and responsible enough to make it on my own.
I guess Mom never saw that, or maybe she didn’t want to. If I’d been able to see in real time how much I was changing, maybe I would’ve talked to her about it. Maybe we could’ve avoided some of our current discomfort if I had.
I realized it was my turn to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so angry. All this is hard to take in. I think I’m overwhelmed.”
“It is a lot to take in," she conceded.
“I still want you to protect me. I just need you to trust me and be honest about stuff, okay?” I told her. “I understand the feeling where you want to keep me safe from everything because that’s exactly how I feel about Yuri, but that doesn’t mean I don’t tell him stuff. We’re learning how to deal with things together, and that’s what I want with you too.”
Mom nodded. “That’s fair. It might take a while for me to get used to the idea, though.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “As long as you’re trying.”
“For you,” she said, “I'll do my very best."
"That’s all I’m asking.”
She held out her arms to me, and I stepped forward and let her pull me into a close embrace.
“I love you so much, Victor," she said.
"I love you too, Mom."
"You’re the most important person in the world to me, and I always want what’s best for you. Now that you’re a grown up man, I guess it’s up to you to tell me what that is.”
At that point, I was crying so hard, I didn’t feel anywhere close to being the grown up man she said I was. I kept reminding myself of what Yuri constantly tells me, that being mature and being emotional aren’t mutually exclusive.
“I’m proud of you,” Mom said against the side of my head. “You’ve grown into a man your dad would’ve been very proud of.”
“I miss him,” I said.
She tightened her arms around me and I could tell she was crying as well. “Me too, sweet baby,” she whispered. “I think about him all the time, and I see so much of him in you.”
“Will you still think about him after you marry Julian?”
“Of course I will,” she said. “He was my first love. You never forget your first.”
“Even if your first isn’t your truest?”
“Even then.”
“I’m not upset about you marrying Julian,” I told her. “Just about you not telling me everything sooner. If he’s really your soulmate, then you should marry him.”
“He is,” she affirmed.
“I’m sorry if I made it sound like it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you were right. It does. I want you to be happy.”
“Thank you.”
“I think Dad would’ve wanted that too. He wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone, and I think he’d have trusted Julian to take care of you.”
“His trust wouldn’t have been misplaced. Julian does take care of me,” she said. “There have been a lot of things in my life that I couldn’t have made it through without him.”
“In that case, if you want my blessing, you’ve got it," I said. "The person who helps you get through the worst stuff in your life is the person you need.”
“Just so you know, your dad was also that person,” she said. “Someone doesn’t have to be your soulmate to support and love you.”
“I know, but it’s a bonus if they are.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Still, I’m glad you had Dad in your life, and not just because I wouldn’t exist if you didn’t.”
“So am I," she said.
“I’d like to know more about him,” I said. “I wish I could remember more than I do. I feel bad when I try to remember something and I can’t.”
“You were only little when he left us. It’s all right that you don’t remember,” she assured me. “When we go home, you can help me open up the hatch to the attic and I’ll get out our old photo albums and show you some pictures, okay? I’ll tell you as much as you want to know.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
We stood together in silence for a long time after that, holding onto each other as if we were the only two people in the universe. I never wanted to let go, and I think Mom felt the same.
Of course we had to step back eventually. When we did, Mom was giving me a lopsided, half-amused smile. She reached up to stroke my cheek.
“Look at you,” she said. “Your face is all red from crying.”
“Yours too,” I pointed out.
“What are we going to do about that?”
“Maybe wash our faces with cold water?"
“That’s not what you used to say,” she said. “I can still hear your little voice telling me, 'ice cream would make it better, Mommy’.”
“Ice cream would make it better, Mommy.”
“Do you still like mint chocolate chip?” she asked.
“Some things don’t change,” I said. “Mint chocolate chip is forever.”
“Mint chocolate chip it is, then. Have you and your friends been to The Frozen Cone since you’ve been back?”
“No, and I don’t know how we managed to leave that off the itinerary.”
"Forty flavours, here we come.“
I grinned at her. "Some day, if I ever get back here for good, I’m going to go there for forty days in a row and try every flavour.”
“I have no doubt you will,” she said. “It’s fun being an adult with your own money, isn’t it? You can do things like that, and nobody can stop you.”
“Technically, Yuri can. He’d probably lecture me for something like that.”
“There are worse things he could lecture you for,” Mom said. “You should hear some of the lectures I give Julian. At least you put your dishes in the dishwasher and hang up your wet towels and don’t leave your socks and underpants on the floor.”
“That might be too much information, Mom,” I said.
She took my hand. “Let’s go. I haven’t even begun to share too much information yet. You do want me to be open and honest with you, right?”
“Maybe not that open,” I said.
She laughed. “Okay, no intimate details, but I do want to tell you about the wedding planning if that’s all right.”
“Sure. I’d like to hear about it.”
"We’re planning it for late spring, or possibly early summer,” she said. “May or June, since we want to have it outside. The only other people we’ve told so far are Julian’s mother and your Uncle Stephen and Aunt Millie. We agreed that we each needed to talk to you and Ellie before we tell anyone else. He’s supposed to be telling her today.”
“I wonder how that’s going.”
“I’m sure Ellie will fill you in about it tonight or tomorrow.”
Knowing Ellie, she’d be texting me as soon as she had a free moment, demanding that I either phone her or meet her somewhere. I couldn’t help being curious about her reaction. It’d probably be less of a shock to her than it was to me, since she’d apparently already figured out that Mom and Julian are an item. Still, I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about the two of us technically becoming siblings, or about my mom becoming her stepmom.
“This might be a dumb question,” I said, “But like, when you get married and Julian’s my stepfather, does he expect me to call him Dad or anything?”
“It’s not a dumb question,” Mom said. “And no, I don’t think he’s going to expect that. If he did, I’d encourage him to lower his expectations because we both know how you feel about your dad.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t be okay with calling anybody else Dad.”
“Julian understands that,” Mom said. “He always has. That’s why he never tried to put himself in that role for you, even though he certainly had the opportunity to. It’s the same reason I never tried to do that for Ellie. We wanted to be there for both of you, but we never wanted to take the place of the parent you were missing. I suppose that’s part of the reason we didn’t tell you we were together.”
Explained that way, the situation was starting to make a bit more sense. I said, “I appreciate that.”
“We were doing our best,” she said.
“I think you did great,” I told her. “Both of you. I mean, Ellie and I both turned out okay, so you must’ve done things right.”
“You and Ellie turned out better than okay. You’re amazing kids.” She ducked her head, looking slightly embarrassed. “Excuse me. You’re amazing young adults.”
I smiled. “Thanks. So, May or June for the wedding? When you pick a specific date, let me know so Yuri and I can make our travel arrangements.”
“We’d like you to be here a little bit ahead of time.”
“Why?” I asked.
“So you’ll be here for Julian’s bachelor party, and for the wedding rehearsal. Julian and I would both like you to be in the wedding,” she said. “You don’t have to give me an answer right this minute. You can think about it and talk it over with Yuri if you need to. Then, you can let me know.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“If you’d prefer to just be a groomsman, that’d be fine,” she said. “But what I’d really like is if you’d walk me down the aisle.”
“Mom—” I began, but then I had to pause and take a breath.
Walking someone down the aisle is what some people call 'giving away the bride'. The metaphorical implications of that weren’t lost on me, but the rational part of my brain chimed in to remind me that I wasn’t actually going to be giving up anything.
If Mom and Julian were indeed soulmates like she said, she was already his; body, mind and soul. Hadn’t I recently explained to Leo that telling someone you love them isn’t a magic spell, and that nothing much would change? And didn’t I understand from my own experience that a wedding doesn’t really change the relationship either? Whether I knew about it or not, whether I gave my blessing or not, no one was going to lose anything. In fact, maybe all of us had something incredibly valuable to gain.
After another deep breath, I tried again. “I don’t need to think about it,” I said. “I promise, I’ll be there to walk you down the aisle.”
