The following day, Father and I journeyed to Mother’s grave. Perched atop a hill that overlooked the sweeping landscape below, her final resting place was surrounded by a sea of blue and white hyacinths swaying gently in the breeze. I recalled that in the language of flowers, blue hyacinths symbolized “unwavering love” and white ones “quiet enchantment.” Despite his stoic demeanor, it seemed that, deep down, my father was quite the romantic.
“Carolina, this way,” he beckoned.
“Ah, of course.”
He guided me by the hand, leading me with care through the vibrant meadow, ensuring no flower was crushed underfoot as we made our way to my mother’s grave. Etched into the pristine white stone were the words, “In loving memory of Karen Sanchez.” Maintained meticulously over the years, the surface was devoid of any moss or blemish. It had remained the same throughout all these years, its familiarity a comforting anchor amidst the whirlwind of changes in my life.
We stood, enveloped in a shared silence for a few moments, and then both of us crouched down beside the grave. I closed my eyes, letting the delicate hyacinth scent, carried on the warm zephyrs of spring, envelop me. It was a tranquil moment in time.
“Hello, my love,” my father spoke first, slowly spinning his gentle words into a delicate thread of affection. “It’s been far too long. I’m sorry for not visiting more frequently—the time has eluded me as of late. It will soon be sixteen years since you departed this world. Have you found peace on the other side, I wonder? As for me, life without you remains an adjustment I can’t seem to make. Despite my efforts to forge ahead, I find signs of your absence everywhere.”
Compelled by the emotion in his voice, I blinked open my eyes. There was sorrow and desolation in his demeanor—but also contentment and serenity. His gaze, his voice—they radiated an immeasurable depth of love for my departed mother. Despite the origins of their union having been political in nature, a genuine, deep connection had evidently flourished between them—a kind of love I could only yearn for.
“And Karen, I can barely fathom this myself, but can you believe that Carolina’s almost sixteen? Where has the time gone, truly? Our daughters, the children your travail brought into this world, are blossoming into remarkable young women. Though I’ve missed out on so much of their lives, occupied as I am with my duties, it still deeply pains me to see them leave my side and venture out into the world.” His voice then dropped to a whisper, laden with regret. “I only wish I could’ve done more.” This was his final utterance before he turned towards me. The emerald of his eyes shimmered with melancholy. It was an unspoken prompt, signaling it was now my turn to speak.
I paused, trying to summon appropriate words, but before my mind could consciously wrap itself around what I ought to say, my mouth seemed to move on its own. “Hello, Mother. It’s been so long. I’ve been well since last we spoke. Sometimes it seems as if you blessed me with the health you lacked...at the end.” Taking a breath, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “I’m getting married, Mother—to the second prince of Malcosias—can you believe it? I always knew I’d be taking that step sooner or later, but I’m not sure I could’ve ever predicted this. Life truly does unfold in unexpected ways, doesn’t it?”
As I voiced the news of my impending nuptials, intentionally omitting the political motivations behind them, a familiar shadow of doubt hovered on the periphery of my consciousness. It was an age-old uncertainty that haunted my every step. A question I never dared vocalize, for what point was there in seeking an answer from silence?
“Perhaps there is no point.” I addressed myself cryptically. “But if it means you finally stop running...”
My father cast a puzzled glance in my direction but remained silent. Perhaps it was the resolve evident in my expression that gave him pause.
“Mother, I fear this may be my last visit here, so there’s something I need to ask.” As the words trickled out, my confidence began to falter. Drawing in a ragged breath and tightly clutching my fists, I clung desperately to my wavering resolve.
No more running. Today, it ends.
“Are you glad it was me who stayed behind, Mother?”
A sharp gasp echoed beside me. I didn’t even turn to confirm the expression on my father’s face as I continued laying bare the insecurities that had burdened me for years. “The Celestian nobility call me the ‘Sanchez family disgrace.’ My intellect is average, my physique ordinary. In looks, I’m unremarkable. Unlike our ancestors, I lack brilliance, nor do I possess some extraordinary ability. Moreover, my existence is the reason you’re no longer with us.” I paused, taking another shallow, sharp breath. “Do you ever regret bringing such a disappointment into this world?”
The weight of my confession threatened to break me, rendering the final words into barely more than an incoherent whisper. I tried my best to maintain my composure, but I couldn’t—not when I was giving voice to a sentiment that questioned my very right to existence. Yet, this was a catharsis I had yearned for—a chance for closure—even if the silence remained unbroken in response.
My father seemed on the brink of speaking, but a gentle shake of my head stifled his words. I noticed him quietly close his mouth, and with deliberate grace, I rose to my feet. “You needn’t answer,” I assured the silent monument, strength infusing my voice once more. “After all, even if you did, Mother, I wouldn’t be able to hear it. I apologize. It must break your heart to be questioned whether you regret bringing me into this world. I’m truly sorry if my words hurt, but...I don’t regret asking.”
I turned back to her grave, fixing my gaze upon it, as though trying to imprint its every detail upon my memory. “I may not have the chance to return, Mother, but please—watch over me, from wherever you are. I’m done running from my fate. I’ll show you just what the Sanchez family disgrace is capable of.”
A renewed sense of confidence washed over me. Striving to embody the poise befitting the daughter of a duke and the respect owed to a departed parent, I offered the most reverent bow I could manage, honoring my mother’s memory.
“Farewell, Mother. Until we meet again.”
As I delivered these parting words with the grace and decorum of a perfect lady, the tender caress of the spring breeze seemed to urge me forward. Perhaps it was nothing more than mere coincidence, but deep within, I felt it was my mother’s touch, nudging me onwards.
Now, with a heart finally at peace with my past, I was poised to embrace the future that awaited me.