Page 48 of Let the Light Shine Through

It’s not about what goes right, it’s about what feels right.

Maybe I could’ve met Gia sooner…or maybe I’m meeting her exactly when I’m supposed to.

My focus stuck on the vase, everybody else laughs over someone ordering onion rings with raspberry sauce.

“We’re not waking your mom, are we?”

I glance at Gia, but her eyes are fixed on her dad. Al stares into the frying pan and Rowdy drills a hole into the side of my face.

Gia finally brings her gaze to mine and I’m already shaking my head, whispering, “Sorry.”

Al confirms my suspicion, saying, “Gia’s mother passed away three years ago.”

Meeting Al’s eyes, I say, “I’m sorry,” then turn back to Gia, repeating, “I’m sorry.”

Fuck, am I sorry.

Surprisingly though, Gia’s smiling again. “She would’ve been up before any of us.”

Something settles over her own gaze as she slips into a memory.

Al nods, saying fondly, “Up with the birds.”

Rowdy scoffs. “You mean up for the birds?”

All three of them share a laugh that I don’t understand.

“Vita was a bird-watcher,” Al explains.

“She was a bird-enthusiast,” Gia corrects. “It was more than just watching.”

Rowdy leans over, talking out of the side of his mouth. “Vita was obsessed.”

“Vita loved birds.” Al nods, pointing behind me. Through the living room at our backs, a huge cluster of windows serves as the focal point, and on the other side of the glass, dozens of birdfeeders fill the expansive backyard.

“Wow.”

Rowdy rumbles beside me.

“How did she die?” Quickly facing Al again, I add, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Smiles, eyes, and maybe even a pin somewhere in the distance drop. Seriously, what’s wrong with me? I feel like not talking for so long made me lose the ability to converse appropriately. I’m missing cues I swear I would’ve picked up on before.

Nobody rushes to answer while my gaze touches on every person in the room.

Finally, Al says quietly, “Cancer.”

I don’t know how, or why, but all the air in the kitchen seems to whoosh out at once.

What am I missing?

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” I say to nobody and everybody. I don’t know Rowdy more than seeing him from afar a couple times, but it’s clear he knew Vita and feels the loss as well. Right? Isn’t that why he’s all buttoned up now, refusing to look up from his fingers drumming the countertop?

Something feels off, but I can’t figure out what it is.

“She was the best person to be around.”

“You were lucky,” I repeat the words she once told me, meaning them more than Gia could ever understand. More than even I understand. Even in death, Vita’s liveliness comes through—loud and clear. “Now I understand what you meant at Salvy’s funeral.” I’ve only been here for maybe an hour and I can already tell the energy coursing through the veins in Gia’s home is what people long for. What people spend their whole lives searching for. What most assume will just appear one day. Except…it won’t. It’s not some attainable thing. It’s the people and their passion for life that make a place special. That makes a house feel like a home.