75 | The Sun and the Moon

                                    

                                          
Morgan must've driven for hours.
                          
Children were never good with being cramped into a car for a couple of hours without proper entertainment. Morgan's never had to bring Nick to the outskirts of town; that required a long drive, as she soon found out.
                          
Morgan was nearly driven mad by the incessant "are we there yet" questions from her six-year-old, so she was more than a little relieved to pull into the yard and see the crematorium that stood tall in front the court that stretched across acres of land.
                          
"Come on, Nicky," Morgan said softly as she unbuckled her seatbelt then Nick's. "There's someone I want you to meet."
                          
The air was crisp that afternoon, chilling with the promise of winter. Leaves colored to the shade of a deep autumn orange had begun to fall lifelessly to the ground as if they had finally given up holding onto the crooked branches of the trees. 
                          
It reminded Morgan of a distant memory from her years alone in the big city. She had just moved to a whole new place, and she constantly pondered if she had made the right decision to run away. 
                          
She'd be lying if she said she'd never thought about just ending it all, but the promise of Nick got her through all those sleepless nights.
                          
A cloudy sky cast shadows across the cemetery; the freshly watered grass tickled the sides of Morgan's feet which were exposed due to her decision this morning to wear sandals. 
                          
It's really well-cared-for, Morgan noted as she and Nick strolled down the rows of headstones. She was glad his family had chosen here to be Trevor's final resting place. 
                          
The pair of them walked toward the westernmost corner of the cemetery, near the edge of a hill overlooking a picturesque view. Nick was timidly walking beside Morgan, his much smaller hand grasping his mother's long fingers rather tightly. With each step she took, Morgan felt her insides tighten, and by the time they reached Trevor's grave, her throat was completely dry, and she craved a drink to soothe her nerves.
                          
Morgan gazed down at the headstone. Engraved on the cool marble in gold writing read:
                          
Trevor Krey Parks, beloved son and friend to all.
                          
Oh but he was so much more than that.
                          
Morgan drew in a ragged breath, and she instantly felt tears lining her eyes once more as she stared at the words cut into the smooth gray stone. Nick, as though knowing the depth and gravity of the situation, squeezed his mom's hand comfortingly. 
                          
"Nicky, this — this is your father," said Morgan shakily. "You — you never got to meet him, but —" she closed her eyes against the sting of tears "— he would've been the best father in the whole world. No one deserved love more than he did."
                          
Letting go of Nick's hand, she touched the stone, felt it cool against her fingertips, and for a heart-stopping moment, imagined him beside her, his dark locks pushed back as usual, his emerald-green eyes basking in the sunlight.  
                          
Morgan cleared her thoughts, brought back new ones, and sighed.
                          
"Want me to tell you a story, Nicky?" asked Morgan breathlessly, earning an eager nod from the boy. He was a sucker for stories, whether fictional or not, and Morgan planned to capitalize on that.
                          
"It's about a girl who was practically bursting with life — everything about it excited her — she viewed the world with so much spunk and light that you'd be surprised to know that she was actually really shy and awkward under the indifferent image she tried to portray. She fell in love with a boy she thought would give her her happily ever after, but when she least expected it, she fell for a different boy — someone who was more candid with his feelings, someone who often got what he wanted. He was confident and handsome and caring and everything the girl didn't know she wanted."
                          
"What happened to the girl?" inquired Nick, his wide green eyes staring up at her with much curiosity.  
                          
"Well — she fancied the two boys. One was the sun that would brighten up her day whenever she'd see him. He'd set her heart ablaze, ignite within her a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging. He was the source of her happiness for the longest time, but as everything does, the sunlight eventually faded and burned the girl away to nothing, leaving a dark shell of who she used to be behind.
                          
"The other boy was the moon — he was more discreet than the sun, secretly lurking in the shadows, waiting patiently before doing anything. He wasn't as blazing as the sun, and yet — somehow — he burned brighter. That's when the girl learned that the moon could be just as fiery as the sun. She found that the moon was a safe, quiet place, somewhere she could seek refuge in when things got tough. He — he was there for her even when she didn't know she needed someone to be there for her. She didn't realize it then, but he quickly became her home, her safe space, her everything.
                          
"Alas, the girl had fallen in love again — for the second and last time in her life."
                          
As soon as she finished telling the story, she realized that she had used so much allegories and a deep vocabulary that it was more than likely that her six-year-old son wouldn't be able to comprehend the meaning and significance of her short tale — but truth be told, she couldn't care less. 
                          
She promised herself she'd tell Nick the tale of her father, but she felt that he may still be too young to fully grasp the concept, with all its screwups and all, so perhaps using big words and phrasing her tale of woe as an elaborate metaphor was the right direction to go — at least for now.
                          
Nick slipped his hand into Morgan's again, his mouth curving into an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, mommy."
                          
At her son's abrupt apology, Morgan looked down at him with a curious expression. "Why're you sorry?" she asked softly.
                          
"Well, you're always sayin' sorry to me because daddy's not with us anymore — but I'm sorry that the person you loved isn't — er — with you anymore."
                          
Nick's words hit her like a bus. Apparently, he understood more than she thought he would.
                          
Children can be the bane of their parents' existence; they can be irritating and persistent and just overall annoying, but it was moments like this that reminded Morgan that they can also be a beacon of light in this otherwise dark world.
                          
In some ways, even with just six years of life experience, Nick was smarter and wiser than Morgan will ever be. Children say the most profound things sometimes without them even realizing it.
                          
She pulled him into her arms and held him tightly, looking up at the cloudy sky through hot, stinging tears. Don't worry, Trev, Nicky's going to be alright, and as long as I have him — the best part of us — I'll be alright, too.
                          
Granted, on darker days, that didn't ring particularly true for Morgan, but at that moment, with Nick in her warm embrace and Trevor's ghost looming over them two, she felt that she really will be okay, regardless of how she would decide to proceed with her fluctuating discontentment. 
                          
Without another word, they placed a wicker basket full of blooming forget-me-nots — something they picked up from a flower shop on the way because it didn't feel right to arrive empty-handed — on the grass in front of Trevor's headstone, then they drove to their next destination. 
                          
Hands on the steering wheel, Morgan pulled out of the cemetery parking lot, glanced over at Nick, and grinned. 
                          
"D'you know your father liked pineapples on his pizza?"