Chapter 15 - MARCUS’S OWN LOSS
Marcus had never taken Milo to Daniel’s grave.
He did not plan to.
Then Milo asked.
They were driving back from a baseball practice Marcus had attended at Claire’s invitation.
Milo sat in the rear seat.
“Where is your son?”
Marcus tightened his hands on the wheel.
“Buried in Maryland.”
“Like Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see?”
Marcus looked in the mirror.
“Why?”
Milo shrugged.
“I want to say hi.”
Marcus nearly pulled over.
Instead he called Claire once they reached home.
“What did you tell him?”
“About Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“That you had a son who died.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Marcus sighed.
“He wants to visit.”
Claire was quiet.
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t.”
Marcus stared at her.
“You make that sound simple.”
“It isn’t.”
Claire softened.
“But Milo does not need access to every part of your grief because he asks.”
Marcus nodded.
Two weeks later, he decided yes.
Claire came too.
Daniel Weller’s grave was under an oak tree in a quiet cemetery.
Milo brought a small toy truck.
Marcus almost objected.
Then didn’t.
“Daniel liked trucks?”
Milo asked.
“No.”
“What did he like?”
“Computers. Hiking. Terrible music.”
“What music?”
Marcus looked horrified.
“Your mother would not approve.”
Claire laughed.
Milo placed the truck by the marker anyway.
“For him.”
Marcus’s throat closed.
“Thank you.”
Milo looked at the dates.
“Was he big?”
“Yes.”
“Bigger than Dad?”
Marcus smiled.
“A little.”
“Did you cry?”
“Yes.”
“Did my dad know?”
“Yes.”
“Did Dad help you?”
Marcus looked at Claire.
Then Milo.
“Yes.”
“How?”
Marcus sat on the grass.
“By not acting like I had to stop being sad.”
Milo joined him.
“Dad was good.”
“Yes.”
Marcus continued.
“He also stole my coffee.”
Milo laughed.
“He said it was terrible.”
“It was not.”
“Mom says it was.”
Claire raised her hand.
“I was not part of that allegation.”
Marcus smiled.
Then told Milo about Aaron after Daniel’s death.
How Aaron left food outside Marcus’s office without saying anything.
How he invited Marcus to dinner then refused to let him discuss work.
How he once texted:
You do not have to answer. Just checking you are still on Earth.
Milo laughed.
“That sounds Dad.”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at Daniel’s grave.
“Aaron helped me understand that staying alive after someone dies is not betrayal.”
Claire’s expression softened.
That was another secret she had not known Aaron carried.
Not hidden exactly.
Private.
There was a difference.
On the drive home, Milo fell asleep.
Claire said quietly:
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good?”
Marcus laughed.
“Stop stealing my line.”
She smiled.
Then:
“Do you ever worry you’re using Milo to fill something?”
Marcus looked at the road.
“Yes.”
Claire appreciated the answer.
“All the time.”
“What do you do?”
“Ask myself whether I’m showing up because he needs me or because I need to be needed.”
Claire nodded.
“That’s a hard question.”
“Yes.”
“What if both?”
Marcus thought.
“Then I make sure he is free.”
There it was again.
Freedom.
Aaron’s standard.
Marcus continued.
“Daniel’s death created an empty room in me.”
Claire listened.
“Milo cannot live there.”
Her eyes filled.
“That’s good.”
“It took me years.”
“Still good.”
Later that night Marcus opened Aaron’s letter again.
The final paragraph read:
You will be tempted to love Milo because you miss Daniel. That is human. Just don’t confuse resemblance with replacement. Milo deserves to be himself. You deserve to grieve your son without making another child responsible for healing you.
Marcus whispered:
“Annoying bastard.”
Then he laughed.
Aaron had known him too well.
A month later Milo accidentally called him Dad.
It happened at a baseball field.
“Dad, watch—”
Milo stopped.
Marcus froze.
Claire heard.
Everything became still.
Milo’s face turned red.
“I mean Marcus.”
Marcus crouched.
“Hey.”
Milo looked frightened.
“Did I do bad?”
“No.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Was Dad mad?”
Marcus’s heart broke.
“No.”
He took a breath.
“Names get mixed up when people are in your heart a lot.”
Milo looked uncertain.
Marcus continued.
“You never have to call me Dad.”
“Okay.”
“And if it happens by accident, nobody gets hurt.”
Milo relaxed.
“Okay.”
Then he ran back to the field.
Marcus stood.
Claire’s eyes filled.
“You handled that well.”
He shook his head.
“I’m leaving for a while.”
Her expression changed.
“What?”
“I’m getting too close.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“You do not get to decide that Milo’s attachment is dangerous because it scares you.”
Marcus stared.
“He called me Dad.”
“By accident.”
“That’s exactly what Aaron warned—”
“Aaron warned you not to replace him.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t.”
Marcus looked away.
Claire continued:
“You are about to disappear because you think presence equals replacement.”
He went quiet.
“Don’t.”
“Claire.”
“My son has lost enough men who left.”
The sentence landed harder than she intended.
Marcus looked hurt.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
She softened.
“But if you need space, take space honestly. Do not turn Aaron’s promise into an excuse for avoidance.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
She was right.
Again.
The promise required presence.
Not possession.
Not disappearance.
May you like
The difficult middle.
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