The Dreamer - 17. Chapter 17 - A Fathers Letter to his Sons

After the funeral, the house was still filled with the quiet murmur of condolences and the shuffle of people leaving, but in one small moment of stillness, Manny’s mom approached him, her eyes red from crying, and held out an envelope.

“Mason,” she said softly, using his birth name in a way that instantly drew his attention, “your dad… he wanted you to have this. It's for you and Robby.”

Manny took the envelope, frowning in confusion as he turned it over in his hands. It was old, the edges worn slightly as though it had been handled many times before. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low, filled with uncertainty. His mom gave a small, sad smile, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder.

“It’s from him. He wrote it for you. You should read it. Robby, stay with him. You need to hear what Terry said also.”

As she walked away to greet more visitors, Manny looked down at the envelope again, feeling the weight of it in his hand. The air between him and the letter felt heavy, and he could already sense the importance of what lay inside.

Robby, standing by his side, noticed the tension in Manny’s face and placed a hand on his back, leaning in close. “You should open it,” Robby whispered, his voice soft but firm.

Manny shook his head slightly, unsure. “I don’t know if I’m ready to read this,” he admitted, his thumb tracing the edge of the envelope. “What could he have written that he couldn’t tell me when he was alive?”

Robby stepped closer, his hand still resting on Manny’s back. “Whatever it is, it’s something he wanted you to know. Maybe it’s something he couldn’t say face to face,” Robby said gently. “But I think you need to hear it, Manny. You’ll know when the time is right to open it, but don’t let it sit for too long.”

Manny nodded, gripping the letter a little tighter. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he said quietly, though the fear of what the letter might contain still gnawed at him.

As Manny stood there, his fingers trembling slightly, he stared at the envelope for a long moment. He could feel Robby's reassuring presence beside him, but the weight of the letter seemed to grow heavier in his hand with every passing second. Finally, with a deep breath, he turned it over and carefully slid his finger under the flap, opening it slowly as if he were afraid of what the words inside might reveal.

The paper inside was neatly folded, worn slightly around the edges from being handled many times. Manny pulled it out, unfolded it gently, and stared at his father's handwriting—familiar, but somehow different now, with an air of finality to it.

He felt his throat tighten, his eyes stinging with emotion, but he knew he had to read it. He owed it to his dad. With a glance at Robby, who gave him an encouraging nod, Manny let out a shaky breath and began to read the words his father had left behind.

"Mason," it began, and Manny could almost hear his father's voice in his mind as he read the familiar name, "there are a lot of things I’ve never been good at saying, things I should have said a long time ago. But now that I'm gone, I find myself needing to say them more than ever.

"The day you were born, your mom and I felt like our world was finally complete. We’d wanted a child for so long, and you were everything we’d hoped for. You brought so much light into our lives—laughing, playing, growing up into the young man we were so proud of. For years, we tried to give you a sibling, someone to share your world with. But it wasn’t meant to be. And when we realized it, we were heartbroken. Your mom and I cried over it more times than I care to admit. But every time I saw you running through the house, laughing and playing, I told myself you were enough. You were more than enough. And, Mason, you were."

Manny paused, his eyes misting over as the memories of his childhood filled his mind. His dad had never said much about those years, not like this. His fingers tightened around the letter as he continued.

"I know I wasn’t always the best at showing it. I grew up in a house where men didn’t talk about their feelings, where affection was something to be kept private. So, I left that part of raising you to your mom. She was always better at it. But that didn’t mean I didn’t care. I want you to know that every time I watched you at your school functions, every time I saw those straight A’s on your report card, I was proud of you. More proud than I ever let on."

"But then came that letter. The one your mom found—the one where you wrote about being different, about being… gay."

Manny’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes widening slightly as he read those words. He felt Robby’s hand on his back, steadying him. Although his dad had accepted him, he had never uttered those words. He always said I was different.

"Reading that letter was hard for me, Mason. Harder than I want to admit. I didn’t understand it at first. I didn’t want to understand it. I’d built this idea in my head of who you were going to be, and this didn’t fit into that picture. But slowly, your mom and I had to face the truth. That maybe, just maybe, our son was gay. And, Mason, I was scared for you. Not because of who you are, but because I knew how hard the world could be for someone like you—for someone who loves the way you do.”

He paused, his handwriting unsteady in some places but deliberate in others. "But over time, Mason, I began to see things differently. It wasn’t about what I wanted for you—it was about what you needed for yourself. And the more I saw you with Robby, the more I realized that you had found something so many people never find: someone who loves you completely, someone you can truly be yourself with. That’s all any parent wants for their child.”

"Robby isn’t just someone you love, Mason—he’s family. I may not have said it enough while I was alive, but I saw it in the way you looked at each other, the way he treated you, the way you both faced the world together. And I’m proud of you both. Proud of the life you’ve built, the family you’ve created, and the love you share."

Manny’s throat tightened again, but he forced himself to keep reading, his eyes scanning the next line.

"I should have talked to you about it, I should have been there to tell you that no matter what, you were still my son and I loved you. But instead, I turned a blind eye. I pretended it wasn’t real, hoping it would go away. And for that, I’m sorry. I should have helped you through it. I should have been there to bridge that gap."

Tears slipped down Manny’s cheeks now, and he wiped them away quickly, swallowing hard as he continued.

"But even though I failed you in that moment, Mason, I want you to know how proud I am of the man you’ve become. You followed your dreams, beat the odds, and found love in a world that often doesn’t make it easy. And, in a way, that’s given me hope—hope that maybe this world is changing, that it’s ready to accept you for who you are. I’ve seen it in your eyes, in the way you and Robby are together. You’ve found something special, something I always wanted for you."

"Take care of your mom, Mason. I know I don’t have to say that—you and Robby have always been there for us, through everything. I know you’ll continue to be there for her. And as for Robby, well… I think of him as more than just your partner. He’s my son too, even if it took me a while to say it. It’s hard for me to admit that, but it’s the truth. He is your partner, your husband. You’ve both built a life together, and I couldn’t be prouder of the family you’ve become."

"Robby, I know we never had the chance to speak much, and I’m sorry for that. There were times I didn’t know how to reach out, how to say the things that needed saying. But I see how much you mean to my son, and that’s enough for me. You’ve loved him with a depth and strength that I couldn’t have imagined. And because of that, I’m proud of you, too. You’ve made my son so happy, and that’s all I ever wanted for him. You’ve been his rock, his partner, his equal—and you’ve given him a life filled with love and promise. I know I wasn’t always easy to love, but thank you for loving him, for being there when I couldn’t, and for showing him the kind of love I always wanted him to have. My only wish is that I had told you this more often, but I hope you know now: You are family. My son’s happiness is a gift, and you are a big part of that."

"I’ll never forget the day you brought your three children home for the first time. The joy on your face, the pride in Robby’s eyes... but holding my grandchildren in my arms—our grandchildren—was a moment I’ll carry with me forever. Watching you become a father, seeing the way you and Robby cared for them with so much love and patience, made me prouder than I’ve ever been. It was at that moment I realized just how far you’d come, how much you had built, and how much love there was in your life. It filled my heart in ways I never thought possible."

"I love you, Mason. Always have. I just hope that wherever I am now, you can forgive me for not saying it more when it mattered."

Manny’s hands were shaking as he finished the letter, tears spilling down his cheeks. He felt Robby’s arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. Manny buried his face in Robby’s chest, overwhelmed with emotion.

“He loved you, Manny,” Robby whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “He really did.”

Manny nodded, clutching the letter in his hand as he let out a shaky breath. “I know,” he whispered back. “I know.”

Manny pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to the letter in his lap. “I just wish he could have said it to me when he was still here. I wish I could have heard it in his voice.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “But… I’m grateful he found a way to tell me. To tell us.”

Robby reached over, his hand covering Manny’s. “He might not have known how to say it, but he showed it in other ways. The way he smiled when he watched the kids play. How he always asked about you—about us—when we called. Looking back, I see it now. And this letter… it just puts everything into words. It means a lot, Manny. To both of us.”

Manny smiled through his tears, his heart aching but also full. “He came so far, didn’t he? From the man who could barely say the word ‘gay’ to this… He understood us in the end, Robby. Maybe he always did, in his own way.”

Robby nodded, his own eyes glistening with emotion. “Yeah, he did. And I’m proud of him for that.”

Manny looked down at the letter one more time, his fingers tracing the familiar handwriting. He thought back to the little moments—his father laughing with the kids, asking him and Robby about their lives, quietly watching them from the edge of the room during family gatherings. “He might not have said much,” Manny murmured, “but maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe I was so caught up in what I wanted him to say, I didn’t see what he was already showing me.”

Robby nodded, squeezing Manny’s hand. “Love doesn’t always come out in words. Sometimes it’s in the way someone stays, even when it’s hard for them. I think he wanted to get it right, and this letter is his way of doing that.”

Manny stared at the letter again, then quietly folded it back up and placed it into the envelope. He slipped it into his jacket pocket, his fingers lingering for a moment as if anchoring himself to the words within. He turned to Robby, who gave him a small, reassuring nod, their unspoken understanding filling the silence between them.

"Let’s go," Manny said softly, his voice steadier now. Together, he and Robby stood, their steps in sync as they walked toward the living room, ready to face the family that loved and supported them, carrying Terry’s final gift in their hearts.