Goodbye, Mr. Regret

"Dad, look at this."

Timothy took the phone from Henry and glanced at the video account. A brand- new movie trailer had just been uploaded.

He asked hoarsely, "Is this your mother's account?"

"Looks like it is."

A shadow crossed Timothy's eyes. "Have you seen these before?"

Tears welled in Henry's eyes. "Yeah... I have. Every night, Mom would play me stories from this account. I... I just never realized..."

A wave of guilt crashed over him. He'd never truly understood what his mother had done for him.

Because she couldn't speak, she couldn't read him bedtime stories like other moms. So she found another way-she made these videos, just for him. All this time, he'd thought she just found random cartoons online. He'd even complained to her face that all she did was play videos on her phone, that it didn't mean anything.

He'd begged Sheila to stay and tell him stories, even pushed his own mother aside for it.

Later, when he learned Sheila was popular and could animate stories-when his classmates envied him-he thought, wouldn't it be great if Sheila could be his mom instead?

But his real mother had always been able to make cartoons.

her own

told him alone were now being shared

like it might

mother's love. After all, in the arts-and-crafts contest, he'd cut out a picture of a

he'd never dared admit she was

must that have hurt

he started to sob, words coming out

was wrong... I'm...

stabbed at him, sharper with every

to admit

had happened when he'd

did Timothy finally understand why Jessica had left for the capital alone, even though she'd promised to celebrate her birthday with him when he returned.

son, but the words stuck in his

wasn't just Henry's fault. He was to blame,

guided him to notice the quiet ways

let Mom down." Henry's self-reproach was almost

to his pain.

a hug. "No more tears, okay? Let's

the car, the two sat in the backseat. Timothy watched every

she'd poured her energy into making these stories-trying to make up for not being able to tell