Down From the Clouds by Marilyn Grey Read Free Book Online Page B

her and put an umbrella over us. She led me down a hill and to a tree, where a lonely gravestone sat, although the teddy bears and flowers probably kept it company.
    I read the name. Didn’t ring a bell. Ella knelt down and kissed the earth. “I’m so sorry, Parker.”
    She pulled me down to sit with her, beside the etched stone.
    “This is Parker,” she said. “And he would be 13 years old today if I hadn’t killed him.”
    “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It was an accident.”
    “It wasn’t, Gavin.” She pulled a letter from her purse and placed it on the stone. “I’m not the only weirdo who carries letters.” She smiled, moving the letter to a teddy bear’s arms. “I’ve come to terms with it, but it’s true. If I would’ve been paying attention and not speeding, I wouldn’t have crossed the line. We can say it’s an accident all we want, but it was something I could’ve easily prevented.”
    Rain pelted the top of the umbrella above our heads. She stared at the stone as I reached into my pocket and slid the envelope onto my lap. “This one is hard for me to read again.”
    She turned. “I love you.”
    I handed her the letter and watched her unfold the college-ruled paper between us. Rain dropped off the umbrella, wetting my shaking hand as she started to read. 
     
    Dearest Gavin,
    My dear boy, please know that I understand why you can’t see me or talk to me right now. I don’t take it personal and I will die knowing that you loved me too much to say goodbye, but you’re avoidance of reality isn’t going to change reality. I’m dying. One day you’ll need to start accepting reality instead of trying to paint it into something fantastical. Sometimes life is fantastical, and other times you have to find fantastic inside of the boring parts and yes, even the pain.
    If you can’t learn to find joy regardless of your circumstances, you won’t keep joy. You’ve gotta find it in the things that don’t change, the things that live inside of you.
    Heck, I’m old and my hand hurts. I don’t know what I’m saying, but I do know this: you will find her one day and when you do you will have to stop hiding. I hope that by the time you find her you learn this. It’s better to walk right up and hug pain because you love a person, then to run from it and never truly love.
    I am still here, hanging on. I had to write this letter over three days, but I needed it to be my own hand writing it, not someone else’s. They are amazed here at how much I can still think and do so close to my death. So weird, Gavin, to come face-to-face with death like this. Sometimes I sit here by myself and just stare at it. I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. 
    Still hoping for you to walk through that door any minute. I don’t think I can hang on too much longer.
    Pop
     
    Silence enfolded us as we drove home. No music. No cell phones. No conversation. Just wipers screeching, rain tapping the car roof, and thunder rolling through the treetops as headlights swished by.
    “You know what?” Ella said as we walked inside the house.
    “What?” I shut the door and sat down on the couch. 
    “I learned something today.”
    “Enlighten me.”
    She sat down beside me, passion in her voice. “Sarah and I once talked about this, and I understand it a little more right now. Every day we’re given a choice. To live or to die. I think it’s a choice in everything. It’s always about life or death. I can choose to love or choose to hate. Love is life, and hate is death.”
    “Whoa, whoa, hold on a second.” I straightened my posture. “I didn’t study philosophy in school.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I know you know what I’m saying.”
    I slapped her thigh with the back of my hand. “Go on. I’m sorry.”
    “So there’s this choice. I was looking at his grave tonight, wondering why I couldn’t move on. I realized why. Because I let Parker die. Do you see what I’m saying? If he lives on in my thoughts