I felt something in my chest loosen, slightly, hearing her finally say it plainly.
“Dominic worked harder for that walk than almost anyone works for anything,” I said. “He called the church himself. He practiced in Mom’s hallway for weeks. He never once asked to be included out of pity or obligation. He asked because he loved our dad, and he wanted to make sure that love still showed up somewhere on that day.”
“I know that now,” Patricia said. “I think, honestly, some part of me knew it back in June too. I just didn’t want to admit how small it made the rest of my objections sound once I actually said it out loud.”
⸻
We didn’t become close overnight. I want to be honest about that part too. Some conversations repair a relationship all at once, and some just open a door that still takes months, or longer, to actually walk all the way through.
But Patricia asks about Dominic now, genuinely, at every family dinner since. She kept the portrait exactly where it’s hung since that July afternoon, and the last time I visited, I noticed she’d added a second photo beside it — Dominic and Julian, laughing together at the reception, an image I hadn’t even known she’d asked Sasha for separately.
“I figured the fireplace could use a matching pair,” she told me, when she caught me looking.
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I didn’t say anything else about it. I didn’t need to.
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