by Lily Foster
I finally found you and I’m never letting go.
Sometimes love fills you, seeps into every fiber of your being, as if you’re breathing it in or it’s the very blood pumping through your veins.
Every woman will tell you that holding her child for the first time is the most profound and magical kind of love you will ever experience. I do not dispute that. But I cannot remember feeling so much love, such unbridled, overwhelming joy, as the first time I held my grandson in my arms.
Matthew. It means Gift from God, and that’s exactly what he is to me and to Vince, and of course to his parents as well. A boy. Maybe it’s wrong that I prayed for a healthy boy, and I certainly would have been overjoyed with a granddaughter, but I suppose a part of me wanted to relive those years, the years when I held my own boy and then stood beside him, watching as he grew into a confident and capable man.
Today I watch my son Dylan lift Matthew into his arms, and watch with gratitude as his beautiful wife Veronica comes to stand beside him, gently nuzzling her nose into her baby’s belly before raising up onto her tiptoes to kiss Dylan just underneath his ear. The kiss makes him at once smile and look on at her with hunger.
Is it good parenting or is it luck? When you get to this point, when you finally let out a sigh of relief, realizing that your child isn’t just through school, gainfully employed, married and settled—when you realize they are thriving, flourishing. Is this when you pat yourself on the back or is this when you take a moment to thank a higher power?
Recognizing the myriad of things that could have gone wrong, acknowledging the times that your input was not a positive factor, but something that maybe set them off track for a spell, and being aware that wealth and privilege can sometime be the catalyst for failure rather than success, I take this moment and raise a silent prayer of gratitude to my God.
I also did this on the occasion of Dylan’s wedding the June before last, a day so different from his first wedding day. When he married Cecilia I hid my misery with a smile. So conflicted over what I knew in my heart was not a good match, despite everything looking so perfect on the surface. Like his first wedding, on the day he married Veronica there was not one cloud in the sky, the bride was breathtakingly beautiful, the flowers were perfect, the music and the ceremony were moving. The similarities, however, ended there. Dylan and Veronica didn’t stand on tradition. In fact, she wore no shoes, her silver toe ring gleaming in the sunshine as she made her way down the grass “aisle” in a strapless white dress that I believe she purchased at a vintage clothing store in the East Village. We were not in Church as they exchanged vows and there was no priest—a “minister” ordained via the internet presided over the ceremony (I’ll admit it wasn’t easy, but I was able to come to terms with that). But the most notable difference to me was the look on Dylan’s face. It was one of pure joy, and of relief. He looked like a man who was finally granted the one thing he’d wished and hoped for, when for so long it had been nothing but a vision or a dream.
I said a prayer for Cecilia last month on the day of her wedding, even though I was not there to wish her well in person. I know Dylan is also grateful that his ex-wife has found happiness with a good-hearted man, and like me, I’m sure he hopes that she will be blessed with a child soon, just as he has been.
Today, on the occasion of my grandson’s first birthday, I say the same prayer of thanks as Dylan lowers Matthew to the grass and he toddles over to me on unsteady feet. Matthew raises his arms and I pick up my precious angel and lift him towards the sun.
Once I’ve lowered Matthew and hold him close to my heart, Vince comes up behind me and wraps the both of us in his embrace. In that moment I see Veronica, who is watching us and smiling. Stay strong, young lady, I want to tell her.
She is my daughter now and I will strive to show her by example how to love with your whole heart. I will be her rock when she needs me to be, because Lord knows being married to a Cole man comes with its challenges. But I don’t really worry about Veronica. Although I don’t say it to her, for fear she’ll think I’m comparing the two of them¸ I do see the same enviable qualities in Veronica that I once saw in Kasia. I’m convinced Veronica will never lose herself in Dylan’s shadow, even when his larger than life existence threatens obscurity. I am confident she’ll demand what she needs from my son, and will not stand by silently if he makes choices that are not in their best interest as a couple or as a family. And as I watch her make her way across the backyard and sit herself on Dylan’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering in his ear, I’m certain she will love my son for every spectacular day this life grants them.
No mother could ever hope for more.
The End
Thank you for reading When I Let You Go. I am truly grateful and hope that you enjoyed it. I’m partial to guys like Dylan. You have to be a little bit bad to be truly good, know what I mean? And he’s bad in such a deliciously good way. Dylan’s character in Let Me Go elicited some very strong reactions. I should reprint excerpts from the few disgruntled reader emails I received here, but let’s just say people loved Dylan despite his wicked ways. As a writer, I knew I’d succeeded in creating a good villain if my readers ultimately connected with him (in one instance even threatening me if I didn’t write a sequel in which Dylan ended up with Kasia!). I hope you enjoyed his story and that you fell in love with Veronica along the way. The idea of her, a blast from Dylan’s very distant past, came to me out of the blue one day while I was driving. I knew it was right—that she would be his happily ever after.
Darcy and Tom were the first characters I featured in Let Me Be the One, and they will therefore always have a special place in my heart. The books that follow in the series are somewhat more intense, heartbreaking, darker and deeper. I’m a hopeful person by nature and driven by the idea that there is always a chance for redemption. That’s why there are always happy endings, even if it’s not the ending my readers expect or hope for. Moms are never supposed to have favorites, but some of the characters in this series will always be extra special to me: Rene in Let Me Love You, Dylan in Let Me Go, Anna in Let Me Heal Your Heart, and Jeremy from Let Me Fall—they just stand out among the others. I hope you’ll root for them just as I did when I wrote their stories.
So thank you again, dear reader. Writing gives me so much satisfaction and I truly love connecting with my readers. Reach out to me online (I answer every email, I swear!):
www.LilyFoster.com
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