He relayed to his father every detail: her kind eyes, her lovely smile, her gentle, accepting kisses. It had been a good night. And when he woke up, she still smiled! Smiled waking next to his face!

He wished to keep her there all day, maybe take her out and go for a walk in the park nearby and stop by the ice cream place she'd taken him. But she had to work, she told him and asked him to pick her up afterward.

Erik's father smiled happily seeing the warm smile on his son's face, but the smile soon faded, and silence replaced Erik's words. They sat there awkwardly for the first time since they'd reunited. It seemed they always had something to talk about since then—some conversation to make—but now there was silence. Solid silence.

"Erik, I..."

Erik turned to face his father as he struggled for words. This time Erik could tell his pause was not due to a struggle for recalling a word but rather a struggle where one wants to say many things, yet they are unsure how exactly to say it.

"I wish it had been me, not your mother."

Erik sat silent, unsure of what his father meant.

Gerard looked to the other side of the room as he continued to speak. "Your mother loved you very much. She was so excited when she found out she was pregnant with you, but I..." Erik tensed as he recognized what was coming. "I wasn't ready to get married. I knew it was what she had wanted, but I just... could not."

Erik glanced to his shoes as he waited for his father to continue. Petty, angered questions bubbled in his head and threatened to slip into his throat, but he swallowed and remained silent. Besides that, he sensed they were all about to be answered anyway.

"I loved her," he continued, "and I was happy that she was happy, but the thought of settling down with a woman so much younger than me- I was insecure; I want to say I did not wish for her to be judged, but in reality I believe it is my own character I was afraid of being judged." He exhaled a small, pitiful laugh. "I was afraid people would look at me and think I was using her, that since she was twelve years younger, I was some predator."

Erik couldn't help but shake his head at his father's irrationality. "She was still an adult, dad. Twenty-six. Old enough to decide for herself who she loved."

"I know," he whispered. "I was not right. I had made too many bad decisions. I don't know how your mother allowed me to stay. It was just that day I-"

His father fell silent, and he looked up in a panic, wanting to see what was wrong. He watched as his father cried. A mixture of emotions—awe and pity—surged through him at the sight. He'd never seen his father cry. Not once.

"She asked me to take you to daycare, but I had just gotten so wrapped up in work. I could've taken a break, but I did not, so she took you instead." He sobbed and brought his hand to shield his face from Erik's viewing. "If only I had gone... maybe she'd still be here with you. Maybe you would've known what it was like to truly have had a loving, supportive parent."

Now Erik was crying. How long had his father gone feeling this way? Had every day after his mother's passing been lived in self-blame and self-hatred? Why had he not told Erik before? Things could have been better.

"Dad, please," Erik sobbed. "It's not your fault."

"But it is!" Gerard cried. "You could've had a good childhood if it weren't for me!"

Erik leaped up from his seat to his father's bedside. "I'm fine, dad. Look at me! I'm happy," he assured through tears. "I'm fine, and mom's fine, wherever she is, and she's looking upon us, smiling. This is what she would have wanted! She would have wanted to see us happy together; father and son at last!"

They each cried as they found one another's eyes, Erik slipping his hands beneath his father's, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"It's fine, dad. Everything's fine."