You are Bruce Wayne’s precious baby.
He once had a loving, kind, and beautiful wife, your mother, before she passed during childbirth, leaving him you. The proof of their love. And he treasured you dearly.
Before Robin, you were his solace.
After long and draining nights of protecting Gotham, Alfred would pass him the sweet sleeping baby, to which he would cradle and rock tenderly on his way to his bedroom, where the father and child would sleep soundly.
You were only three months old when Dick Grayson joined the family. At first he wasn’t too fond of the baby, especially during his period of seething vengeance he had towards the man who murdered his parents.
But your adorable face and baby noises, specifically when you laughed, helped subdue his anger, to his astonishment. There was something so beautiful and joyous in your soul. You were light personified. You were the definition of life itself.
Perhaps that epiphany was what Dick needed to understand that there were more important things than revenge. Love, kindness, and compassion. For family, friends, and strangers alike.
Bruce saw the switch in Dick’s resolve.
Overcoming hatred and violence was no easy feat. It took him years to learn that. But seeing his new son metamorphosis, and the love begin to grow in his gaze made his heart ache.
He needed to quietly step way from his children for a moment, secluded in his room.
He grabbed a picture frame from his dresser and caressed it gently as he sat on his bed. He couldn’t help the tears that stang and blurred his vision as he gazed down at the photo of your mother. How was it that you were already three months old? Three months since her death? And yet, when he looks at you, and holds you, it’s like she never left.
After regaining his disposition and returning to his children, Bruce observed how naturally Dick took to playing with you, how quickly he adapted to being a big brother, and he smiled. He knew, in his heart, that they were going to be okay.
When you were two years old, you gained another brother. Jason Todd.
He kept to himself at first, not wanting to talk much to anyone. You had your big brother Dick to play with, and that was always fun, but now you had a new brother! Double the fun! So you made it your life’s mission to play with Jason.
But he kept pushing you way.
You were confused and sad at first, did he not like you? You watched him curiously when he wasn’t confined to his room or behind the grandfather clock. He was quiet and looked upset. Maybe he was a quiet activity kind of person! So one day, when you found him on the living room couch reading a book, you quickly gathered your supplies and bee-lined straight to Jason.
Jason was lounging on the couch with his current read, in his flow-state, when he spotted the toddler coming towards him with arms full of supplies. He was immediately ticked off.
Can’t this child leave him alone? Clearly he wants nothing to do with them. He was about to get up and leave when the child settled on the floor next to him and laid out a coloring book and crayons. The child didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest and went on to fill the pages of their booklet with waxy pigment.
This made Jason pause. No nagging to play? No yelling? No talking? What’s the catch? Jason watched the child silently color for a few moments before realizing his last thought was a bit silly.
Children, especially at this age, don’t know how to negotiate social interactions like that. They do things because they want to. Not because they have an alterer motive. This child chose to color quietly, and wanted to do so here, specifically. This child wanted to spend time with him.
Jason’s heart clenched tightly in his chest. How did he miss it before? All those times he felt pestered by the toddler, when all they wanted was to spend time with their new brother. Jason was touched, and considering your approach to independently draw beside him while he read almost made him cry. That was thoughtful and considerate to his needs, something he neglected to be for you. Now it was his life’s mission to make it up to you.
Your attention snapped from your colors towards your brother, eyes sparkling from hearing him say your name so gently. He’s speaking to you willingly!
“Would you like me to read to you while you color?”
You couldn’t help the grin that was plastered on your lips and nodded enthusiastically.
Jason smiled and began where he left off.
From the doorway, pride and adoration beamed from Bruce as he watched his son and baby forge their bond. Two years, and not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss his wife, but every day he’s thankful for his baby. Everyday, you remind him of your mother. You have her nose and smile, and a single small mole under your left eye, just like her. Little love notes from her to you. But what reminds him most of all of his beloved wife, is your love and compassion for others.
You’re growing into an amazing person! You’re six years old and can finally attend your first gala! You’ve had birthdays before, but this is by far the biggest party you’ve ever been to! There’s so many people in fancy clothes and shiny accessories. Are the glasses with the bubbly liquid for drinking or are they also a part of the outfit? Oh! Nope. Definitely for drinking, that man just drank his in on gulp!
Daddy, Dick, and Jay are here with you, but there are a lot of adults talking to them. Daddy asked you to be on your best behavior when attending parties this big. He said they’re very important! Maybe it’s because there’s a lot of people taking pictures, you have to be on your best behavior for those. Oh! And don’t forget to say cheese!
This party is boring, it’s mostly just adults and no one is talking to you. There aren’t even presents!
You’re about to look for Dick and Jay when you spot another kid. Another kid! It’s a boy who seems to be awkwardly lingering behind his parents while they converse with other adults, like daddy. You waste no time to go towards the awkward boy.
Tim Drake hates galas. He hates that he has to make an appearance for his family image. He loves his parent, but not the performance. He’d rather be chasing around Batman and Robin, but even if he wasn’t at home he wouldn’t be able to because they’re here, stuck keeping up appearances like he is. What a bummer night.
Tim has been attending galas since he three and never once has he been acknowledged by anyone. Not even his own parents. But alas, he will silently endure the torture of boredom to please them.
A gentle tap on Tim’s sleeve breaks him of his trance. Turning to face the stranger, he’s met with a shorter kid, probably younger than him. The kid had a cheerful smile on their face, Tim couldn’t help but to return it.
“Hi,” they whispered. “Do you want to come over to the side with me so we don’t bother the adults?”
“Absolutely,” Tim whispered back immediately.
The pair sneak away to the side of the ballroom, close to the refreshment table, of course, and pick a few snacks.
“I’m (name) Wayne, it’s nice to meet you!”
Obviously, this kid was intensely extroverted. Hold up, Wayne?! Holy opportunity-of-a-lifetime Batman! Tim’s night just got exponentially better!
“Tim Drake. It’s nice to meet you too.”
Play it cool, Tim. Play it cool.
The duo spent the betterment of the evening getting to know each other and their hobby’s. You learned that Tim likes photography and even has a collection of wildlife photographs he took himself! You told him about your passion for art and reading, and how you’re just starting to learn how to play the piano! Tim’s about three years older than you, but that doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Daddy always said friends come in many shapes, sizes, and colors! You think if Tim was a color, he’d be red! You share that thought with him.
Tim snorts and quickly try’s to cover his mouth form laughing out loud.
Was it something you said? You missed the joke.
“You’re funny, you know that?” He giggled. Welp, you guess this means it’s your calling to become a comedian, you’re obviously a natural!
Bruce, Dick and Jason hate galas. Absolutely hate, hate, hate, double hate, loathe entirely! And they would give anything to be out patrolling Gotham right now. The fake niceties and net-worth measuring contests were excruciating. Seriously, no one cares! Just use your money for good and be a decent human! ITS! NOT! THAT!HARD! Money won’t matter when you’re dead and no one will care to remember your name! Have you seen what type of crimes against humanity people with money and power will commit??? There is no earthly justice that befits their crimes. THEIR SOULS WILL BURN FOR ETERNITY AND EVEN THAT WILL NOT BE ENOUGH!!!!!
A duet of sweet and hushed laughter draws the attention of the three night crusaders. And to their delight, their baby darling has made a friend. They recognize the Drake boy and have no qualms about the connection. The heads of the household aren’t supervillains or notoriously horrible people (although leaving a child for weeks on end is pretty sus. And Archeology? Glorifying stealing in the name of knowledge. I’m looking directly at you, British Museum of stolen history from cultures not of your own. What? Expanding your empire wasn’t enough? You had to rob other cultures of their identities because you think you’re the center of the galaxy? Well guess what! The sun is true center and I’m gonna punt you straight into it!), so far the future of this friendship was looking pretty good!
Time works in funny ways. One day you’re holding your newborn. So sweet and soft. And then you blink and suddenly, they’ve grown up so fast.
You’re 13 now! You’re officially a teenager! Yeah baby!! Time for the taste of teenage rebellion!
Except…you don’t really have a thirst for that…huh….interesting.
You’ve long since found out about the family secret. Not like it was hard. Following dad into the cave was pretty easy. Oh! And Tim knew the whole time?!?! Gosh, your best friend was so smart and clever, even if mildly concerning and dumb sometimes. But even with minor setbacks, Tim became the new Robin!! You’re so proud of him! No really, he’s crazy good at computer science and detective work. Even dad thinks one day Tim will surpass him, and that’s simply ludicrous to think about!!
Tim is pretty much like a brother to you. He’s the closest to you in age, if older than you by three years, and he’s over at Wayne Manor all the time! He lives down the road, but his parents are away on digs so often that he just stays here majority of the time! Slumber party 4EVRR!!!
It was a pretty bad storm tonight. The rain was relentless and the sky was decorated every now and again with the electric volts that illuminate the dark, followed by the delayed thunder. Hopefully dad and Tim make it home safely, they had to retire early from patrol.
The storm came out of nowhere.
Tim’s parents are home from wherever they were for their latest expedition, so he’ll be at his house tonight.
Another flash and rumble from Mother Nature. You don’t usually stay up late waiting for dad, but this storm has your stomach twisted. You had a bad feeling.
In front of you, as you sat in the informal kitchen, at the island, was a cup of tea that Grandpa Alfred made you.
Grandpa Alfred usually stayed up waiting for dad. Whether it’s a butler thing or a surrogate father thing, you couldn’t tell. But does it matter? You could see it in his eyes, the way he loves your dad as if he was his own son.
Although he gives dad a hard time a lot of the time, it’s because he loves him. Grandpa Alfred is a wonderful man and you couldn’t ask for anyone else.
Sometimes, though, you wonder about Grandma and Grandpa Wayne.
Every time you passed by their portrait; would they have loved you the way Grandpa Alfred does? More? Less? You couldn’t think of why they wouldn’t love you, but that doesn’t really matter, does it? Not in this lifetime.
For a third time the sky rages against the earth and the Batcave alert goes off. Sweet relief floods over you. Dad’s home!
You rush down to the cave as fast as you could to welcome home your hero. And to think, you were so worried about noth—
“Tim?” You called gently.
Just a few feet from the Batmobile, stood Tim. Trembling and vacant.
Dad was predictably hunched over the computer and typing away furiously. But Tim stayed stationary. No one seemed to notice your entrance.
Slowly, you made your way over to your best friend. What happened? Why was he here? He should be at home in his bed. You stood in front of him.
Gently, you took both of Tim’s trembling hands into your steady ones.
His gaze raises to meet yours and your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces.
The ‘hundred yard stare. Tears stained on his face. Trembling.
He didn’t need to speak. You just knew. And the tears fell from your own eyes as you squeezed his hands tightly.
Seeing you cry reignited his own tears and he collapsed into your shoulder.
You did your best to be his rock, but you felt more akin to a lightning rod, his anguish the volt.
Dad intervened gently and had Tim go change and wash up. Now it’s just you and your dad.
Bruce cupped your cheek and wiped away a stray tear. It crushed his soul to see you so heartbroken. He always thought your first heartbreak would be from a partner. He never would have predicted grief. Grief over the loss of people you don’t even know.
You’ve talked to Jake and Janet Drake only twice and they were both fleeting moments. Yet here you were crying for them as if you knew them.
Grief is a painful and confusing experience. It might happen right away, it might be delayed. Some people never leave, and some people never enter.
And sometimes, you cry for a passing stranger. But you guess we’re all passing strangers in the grand scheme of things, aren’t we?
Maybe you don’t cry for the dead, they’re in no pain anymore, after all. You cry for the living because they were left behind in the torturous aftermath.
Do you need to justify why you weep for strangers? Can it not be out of compassion and understanding? Are we not permitted to cry for humanity simply because we are alive? Suffering doesn’t end just because it’s not actively happening to us. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day and so forth, someone cries and begs for the pain to cease, and that alone is enough to weep.
————————————————————————-
Bruce leaves to retire for the night and beckons you to come with.
You smile at you dad sadly, oh how you love him. But your friend needs you. You tell him as much.
Bruce is not upset. Never will his baby. He sees the love and empathy you hold for Tim. For the world. And he couldn’t be more proud of you. He nods and turns way. But before he could get too far…
“Daddy,” your voice was soft.
Bruce paused. It took all his power not to burst into tears. He thought you out grew the term, opting to calling him dad instead. He looks at you.
In case you don’t say it enough.
“I love you too, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”
In case he doesn’t say it enough.
It took a few more minutes for Tim to exit the showers. You didn’t mind waiting.
Tim was draped in comfy sweatpants and a cotton T-shirt for his pajamas. You were all ready dressed in yours.
Tim looked so drained and defeated. You wish you could take the pain away, but you had no such power. The best you could do, is be his guide.
Taking his hand, which had long since stopped trembling, you gently lead him to your room.
Tim had a bedroom of his own down the hall, but tonight he was just crowned head of the Drake household at just 16. He doesn’t need to be alone anymore tonight.
The storm carried on against the pane. Your poor Tim, a hollow shell. Under the blanket and sheets, you laced your hand in his and gave a firm squeeze—you’re here and you’re not going to abandon him. His eyes turn glassy once more, and you held him tightly as you both sobbed in tandem with the thunder.
The day of Jack and Janet Drake’s funeral came and went. Tim didn’t want to go. You wanted to tell him that he should go, but you didn’t.
Grief is painful and confusing, and everyone goes through the stages differently. Who are you to tell him how to grieve? Who are we to tell anyone how to grieve? Besides, the graves will still be there tomorrow, and next week, and in five months, and in 42 years. Take your time Tim, you’ll be right here with him when he’s ready.
It took Tim about 7 months before he was ready to visit his parents’ grave. You asked if he wanted Dad, Grandpa Alfred, Dick, and or Jason to come with. He shook his head. Just you.
A bouquet of white lilies and red roses was laid at the joined headstone for the late couple. You stayed back a few feet to give Tim the space he needed.
He returned back to your side and stared down at the place they rested. The grass has grown and been cut several times over. You would never know just by looking down at the earth that this was where Tim’s parents were buried. Only the pristine stone gave evidence to what was underneath.
“They were murdered, (name).” Tim whispered.
“No—well, yes, the rule. But it’s more than that.”
How do you even have this conversation?
“Killing is a horrible crime against our fellow humans, that much is true. But not only does taking someone’s life kill that person, it kills you as well. Guilt will eat away at your soul and psyche until you snap and take even more lives or your own. If you kill one life, then what’s one more kind of mentality. Forgive me if I sound preachy, but sin is an addiction. When you start, it’s hard to stop. And the easiest way to prevent the addiction is to refuse it completely. You don’t have to believe in any god, goddess, or entity for this to be true. Tim, you are my best friend and brother, I love you so much. Dad loves you, Grandpa Alfred loves you, Dick and Jason love you. Yes, you lost your parents. But you have so many more friends and family who are here for you, to support you. Please don’t make us lose you too.”
You hold your hand out for him. Please, Tim. Please.
“I love our family too.” He squeezes your hand. Thank you.
Holy talk-off-the-ledge Batman, please never put me in this situation ever again!
Bruce recognized the signs that Tim was contemplating killing his parents’ murderer. He saw the same signs when he first got Dick and in himself. He was going to intervene and chat with Tim once you two had come home from visiting their grave.
When you both walked through the doors, he was quick to greet you both. But the hatred and bloodlust that was once in Tim’s eyes, was no longer there. Now it was just a boy who was grieving his parents.
He knew at once that you had something to do with his resolve, and his pride in both you and Tim swelled. He was proud of you for handling a spiraling boy and talking him away from future regrets, but he was also proud of Tim, his newest son, for staying strong and not giving into bitter revenge.
Another year means you’re 14 now! Isn’t that great? Your body is changing more than ever! Kids at school are so awkward about it and each other. They’re embarrassed by their own appearances. Come on people! Embarrassed is a state of mind! You’re only acting this way because the adults are subliminally conditioning you to so they can sell you crap you don’t need! Wake up! No, ladies and feminine presenting friends, you don’t have to shave down their in order be liked by a guy! Your body is growing hair to signal to the opposite sex that you’re getting old enough to reproduce! And the fact that the beauty industry pushes so hard to be hairless like a child is creepy and predatory!!! WAKE UP!!!
And speaking of getting older in order to reproduce….
You got ANOTHER brother!!! And this time he’s younger than you!! Now you’re a big sibling! Isn’t that so exciting?! Now you get to instill allllll your wisdom and knowledge onto this young and impressionable mind—IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER?????? Who gave this child a katana??!! (And can you get one?)
So Damian Al Ghul-Wayne…Wayne-Al Ghul? Nah, Damian Wayne! He’s yours now buddy! And like, for real real yours! He’s your half brother! Isn’t that so cool! Never had one of those before!
Although Damian is a little….spiky. Like a feral kitten. He was raised in some kind of assassins creed or something like that. 😬 That’s a little scary….
But he’s 10 years old! You doubt they’d make a child kill— sorry…how many?
Oh, my sweet baby brother. Why would they do this to you?
Damian has been here in the manor for a few weeks now and it’s been…hectic to say the least. The vibes are so screwed. No chill pills have been taken, what-so-ever, and you’re stressed.
He starts fights with your other three brothers and disrespects dad and Grandpa Alfred constantly. He doesn’t seemed bothered by you in the slightest. Whether that’s because you pose no threat to his “inheritance of the Batman mantle”, as you chose to stay a civilian, or because you’re his “Blood sibling” is yet to be clear. Whichever it is, you’re just happy you’re not on the receiving end of his katana (seriously though, can you get one? It would look sick on your wall!)
One beautiful summer afternoon, you were in the sunroom practicing your grand piano forte with the French doors that lead into the garden open, letting in a cool breeze for the serine moment. Over the 8 years since you’ve started piano lessons, you’ve grown into quite the pianist and composer. Letting the music and emotion sweep you away into your own little oasis.
Over the years you also got good at sensing the presence of those who wish to be kept in the shadows.
Finishing your warmup scales, you rested your hands on the bench.
“Wanna join me on the piano, Damian?” You asked without needing to look. Besides, your guardians and older siblings had no problem with “disturbing” your practice. You wanted to serenade and dazzle them with your talent any chance you got.
Damian emerged from where he stalked in the shadows, mildly annoyed that his covert op was botched. But begrudgingly walks over and stands to your right of the piano bench but oNLY BECAUSE YOU CAUGHT HIM, ITS NOT LIKE HE WANTS TO SEE WHAT YOU’RE UP TO OR ANYTHING!!!
Your fingers glide over the ivory and black keys of the magnificent instrument and the sweet notes of light and peace ring out into the open breeze. A composition of love that Damian has never heard before. It was…beautiful.
So use was Damian, fighting to the war drums, that such percussions as this was a shock to the nervous system. A juxtaposition of light and darkness, good and evil, soft and rigid…
Damian felt a conflict within his chest and he detested how suffocating it felt to be powerless against his own body. He gritted his teeth.
“Stop playing,” he demanded, as if the music was the greatest offense to his person. You stopped abruptly.
There was an electric tension in the air. It almost felt tangible. Like you could manipulate it with a single twist of the hand.
You look at your younger brother. Really look in his eyes and search his soul.
He’s buried a lot of himself. Not surprising considering his upbringing in the League of Assassins. He had to fill his depths with sand in order to stay above the waters. That was unfortunate.
You scoot over on the piano bench and pat beside you, offering him to sit with you.
Damian hesitates, unsure what you’re planning, but considering you’re a civilian with no training, and the fact that you seem to to want nothing to do with fighting in general, he deemed you as a non-threat. He sat beside you.
“How are you liking staying here?” You began.
Damian snorted. So, an interrogation, was this? Fine.
“Doable. The solicitors are a nuisance, though. We’d be better off without them.” He gives flatly.
We, huh? So does that mean Damian sees you as an equal?
“I haven’t seen any solicitors around. Who are you talking about?”
“The riffraff of course, Grayson, Drake, and Todd.”
This was gonna take a while.
“Pardon?” He raised a brow like you said something stupid.
“Wayne. They all hyphenated their last names when they were adopted. They’re our brothers.”
Honestly, it’s not that hard.
“Tt. A name on a piece of paper means nothing. It’s the blood that matters.”
“As far as I’m aware, human blood looks the same across the globe.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Idiot, was implied.
“Then what do you mean?” You could do this all day, baby brother.
“I mean that family is only valid if you’re related by birth.”
“Even if they don’t love you?”
That shut him up fast. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone avert their eyes so quickly. You were almost concerned he might’ve snapped his neck.
Slowly, you held out your hand, palm up, in the midway point between you and your brother. An offering.
“May I hold your hand?” Let him have the power to accept if he chooses.
Be brave, Damian, you tried spending the message telepathically to his head. Sure, you’re not twins, you’re not even sure if twin telepathy even exists. But you never know!
He places his hand in yours.
Alright everyone! Stay calm! Be cool! Remember: Feral kitten!
You give him a reassuring squeeze.
“What’s really going on, Damian?”
He hesitated for a moment be for replying.
“What if father doesn’t love me?” He muttered.
“Why do you think he wouldn’t love you?”
“Father chose to have you, he chose to bring Grayson, Todd, and Drake into his home. But he didn’t choose me.” He sounded so defeated.
Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. Your brother needs you.
Damian is insecure about his place in this family. Was this why he’s been butting heads with everyone for the fast few months? Did he think he needed to prove his place in this house?
You took a deep breath before releasing.
“You and I grew up in two completely different worlds. I was raised in a family that grew because of the unconditional love we have for each other, while you had to fight for your praise and fight for you your place. But let me make this clear, a nod of approval is not the same as a hug. Am I correct to assume that showing any form of emotional distress was met with punishment?”
You looked him in his eyes to make sure he got what you were saying.
“True love sees you at your worst and chooses to stay, do you understand me?”
He nods again and shut his eyes tightly.
Damian felt like he was on fire. It was uncomfortable and strange and it makes him want to tear his skin off—God! Make it stop! Make it stop!
A tight compression wraps around his body like a rubber band. Another new feeling.
Only this felt different. It was a tightness that felt safe and warm. It felt good.
Damian cracked his eyes open, just a hair to see you embracing him in a hug.
When was the last time someone hugged him? Or was this the first time?
“I love you, Damian. You are loved and welcomed in this home.” You whispered to him.
“I love you too, (name). Thank you.”
When Damian calmed down enough, you eased off him and looked in his eyes and his face. Really looked.
To the untrained eye, you would’ve never guessed that the boy in from of you was the son of Bruce Wayne. His eye color and tanned skin being the biggest difference between the two. But upon closer inspection, you’d see that he has dad’s hair color and square jaw. His shoulder and also broad and strong for a kid his age and size. He’s definitely going to grow as tall has dad one day, lucky. And that determination in his eyes, you’ve seen the same look in dad.
Ha, well, would you look at that. Love notes from dad.
Bruce watched his two youngest fondly. It’s true that when Damian was dropped off by Thalia, he felt guilty for what happened four years after your mother’s passing. His love for your mother had never faded, not even after 14 years without her, but he could never blame Damian for being the product of that night. It doesn’t matter who he came from, his son was always welcomed in his home.
His darling was right. Family is not just about who you’re born to. It’s about how you love and support each other through the successes and the failures. And Bruce is so incredibly proud of all his children. They each hold unique gifts and talents, and show great strength and resilience. But what he’s most proud of is the love, empathy, and compassion they all have, not just for each other, but for humanity as well.
Wow, 18 years old. How much you’ve grown. You’ve graduated High School with honors and have just been accepted into the greatest music academy in all of America! You are well on your way to becoming the greatest pianist in the country, having competed in numerous music competitions and placing 2nd or 1st every time! You’ve truly grown into a shining star.
You held your dad’s hand while you two strolled along the sidewalks of Gotham. Tomorrow you leave to begin the next chapter of your life. You’re both excited and a bit nervous, but mostly excited. You can’t wait to meet new people, and make new friends, and expand your musical knowledge. But it’s also going to be hard. You love your family very much, you don’t know how you’re going to survive 15 weeks without your siblings, Grandpa Alfred, and dad. They’ve always been with you. Being without them will feel so void and lonely.
It’s going to be okay, you tell yourself. You can do this. Change is scary, and sometimes it can be really sad, but you’re never alone. Your family is always one phone call away.
Yes, change is good and change is necessary. And you’re going to show the world exactly what you’re made of!!!
Turning to enter a gated lot, you squeeze your dad’s hand.
You asked to come here with him today. Never in your 18 years have you ever thought to come here, you never felt the need to.
“Hi mama,” you greeted your mom’s headstone, reading her name silently to yourself.
“I leave for college tomorrow. Your baby is going to be a pianist. Just like you were.”
You couldn’t help the tightness in your chest and the burning in your throat. Once again, you morn the living for having to move on without the dead.
You’re not even sure what your mom even looked like, you’ve never seen a photo of her in your life. Yet time and time again, dad and Grandpa Alfred tell you how much you remind them of your mom.
You wish you could have met her, even for a little bit. You feel like you’ve missed out on meeting a truly magnificent woman.
You tell the gravestone as much.
When your words fall short, dad steps forward and places a comforting arm around your shoulders.
“My darling baby, I regret not having done this sooner.” He kissed your forehead and takes out a photo from his trouser pocket, showing it to you.
It’s of a beautiful woman, so foreign, yet so familiar. You’re shocked, seeing your mother’s face for the first time.
It’s uncanny really, how you look so close to being a carbon copy of your mom.
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry I never thought to show you photos of your mother.”
Bruce encircled you in the best dad hug ever. Safe and warm and so full of his love.
“When she was pregnant with you, she played the piano for you, and sang to you, and told you every day how much she loved you and was so proud of you already. Part of me wonders if she knew that she wasn’t going to make it, she never showed any signs of distress. But, darling, when I look at you, my sweet baby, and notice just how much you look like and embody your mother, the more I see how she left us so many love notes on your face, and in your compassion, and the love you hold for everyone around you. I love you so much sweetie.”
You cried while your dad held you. But not from sadness or grief. But of relief. For so long you wondered what she looked like and how different you two might have been. Living without a parent is so hard, you feel as though there’s been a black hole in place of where the second should be. Like a bit of the world has broken off and left a jarring focal point in the middle.
But now realizing the love notes she left behind made you feel so much closer to her. You’re never long without her because she’s always with you, and always has been.
And with that knowledge, you feel more prepared, than before, to take on the rest of your life.
