Once everyone is ready, we head downstairs for breakfast. Amy has made a full spread. Ivan even has an apron on, frying sausages in the pan.
“We’re celebrating,” she announces, pouring bubbles into champagne flutes.
“I see that, and Ivan’s cooking,” Ben says.
Ivan glances over his shoulder. “I always do it on special occasions.”
Ben laughs. “Yeah, especially when it’s worth your while.”
They wink at each other. Amy and I shake our heads. The two of them have become friends over the last few months. There’s always a sarcastic comment in the mix.
Liam and Ollie sit at the table, throwing strawberries or whatever at each other. Late teens now, but still as juvenile as ever. And from what I can guess from looking through old family photos, they’ve always been like that. Best friends, unless playing a video game.
I glance over at the picture on the wall. It’s an individual image of Bex now. The family one was taken down a while ago. I never asked why.
It’s like Ben’s wedding ring. He used to wear it on his other hand, but it’s gone now too. He took it off one day and never put it back on. I didn’t mention it, and neither did he. I just took it as a sign he was ready to move on.
Once everyone’s eaten, we head to the cars.
I’m so proud of us for getting here.
Not just for building the retreat or creating a space for people going through this time together as a family, but for surviving what we’ve all gone through. What we’ve lost and what we’ve built.
Today feels like an important day for us all.
I went all out. I booked us a limo.
There are too many of us to go in one car, and I thought, what the hell, let’s go in style. With the retreat driveway now paved, we won’t risk hitting the roof as the car bounces along. It will be a smooth experience.
Outside, the long black car sits at the curb, stretched out, ready. The driver steps out, complete with a cap. The kids all squeal.
“Dad! Dad! There’s a limo!” they all scream together.
I laugh. Ben turns to his children. “Antonia’s gift,” he says, nodding in my direction.
The kids run over, wrapping their arms around me. I’m swaddled in four grown bodies, jumping up and down like toddlers.
And I love it.
“Well, I thought we all had something to celebrate,” I tell him. “And I know Bex would have appreciated it.”
Liam nods. “Mum would have loved this.”
“Dad, remember the story about you and her going to the ball when you were younger? When you were first together?”
Ben glances at me. He smiles softly. Now, we love sharing stories of our pasts.
I’ve heard this one before. A story from a time gone by, from before all the heartbreak and hurt. The lost chances. When Bex and Ben were just two young people in love.
It doesn’t make me jealous, sad, or nervous. It brings joy.
I was once in love with someone else too, but that doesn’t mean I love Ben any less.
Seasons change. We lose people. Some, years before we should.
And it’s who you find to help you write the next chapter that’s important.
It doesn’t erase what you had.