Maeve sat at a table by the window, watching people pass. The walk to the cafe had been silent, each of them walking, their gaze straight ahead. Once they entered Choong Jae headed up to the counter to get their drinks while Maeve went and picked out a table. She watched him from her seat. He paid for the drinks then carried them carefully to the table.

"I didn't know what kind of tea you wanted. I hope chamomile is okay. You did say you couldn't do anymore caffeine", Choong Jae said as he set a steaming hot cup of tea in front of her. He had gotten himself a cup of black coffee and after he sat down, he started to add sugar and cream to it as Maeve added honey to her own drink.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Choong Jae. I had two shots of espresso before coming to the group tonight, plus a cup of coffee. I'm surprised I didn't shake right off my chair", Maeve said with a nervous laugh. 

"Jinnie", Choong Jae said quietly,"everyone calls me Jinnie. Only my grandmother called me by my birth name."

Maeve gripped her cup tightly, thankful he had gotten her tea in a real mug instead of a flimsy paper cup. "I'm sorry…. It must make you sad to hear someone else call you that. My dad calls… called me 'Maevy'. No one else has called me that since he died." 

At her words an awkward silence blanketed the space they shared, each taking a nervous sip from their mug. 

Maeve was the first to break the silence,"So why did you decide to invite me tonight?"

Jinnie set his cup down with a clunk,"You just looked like you could use it. I remember the first time I spoke. I went home and cried myself to sleep that night. And then the next time….. I only cried for an hour. It gets a little easier with time”, he said and shared a crooked smile with her.

“The hardest part….. is how everything suddenly shifted to past tense, ya know?” Maeve took a sip of her tea. “I still catch myself talking about him like he is still here.” She cleared slightly, following it with another sip of her tea.

“This gonna sound a little cliche”, Jinnie said carefully,”but he really is still here. Your memories will keep him alive, even if he’s buried six feet somewhere.”

“But he’s not. You’re probably going to think this sounds silly but I keep his ashes on my coffee table. I talk to him in the morning and at the end of the day. My therapist said it’s a coping mechanism, that one day I will have to move him and find a better way.” Maeve flushed slightly and looked down into the watery depths of her tea.

“That’s insane”, Jinnie said, his eyes wide. As he saw her face crumple he stuttered out,”not you talking to your dad's ashes, what your therapist said. It sounds like you found a way to survive and no one has the right to make you change it.” He reached across the table hesitantly and brushed her hand with his long fingers. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away.

“She was my therapist already, before my dad….. I think I may look for someone new. At least for this. Only good advice she has given me so far was that I started going to grief support. I should ask Jane if there is anyone she would recommend.” Maeve bit down on her bottom lip as she let her hand brush his before she pulled it away to check the time on her watch.

“I hate to just run off, but I’ve got work in the morning and I still have to do a few things”, she said with an apologetic smile. Jinnie shrugged her apology off.

“I’m glad we got to talk a little. I needed it too. Sometimes talking about it is the best self-care. Don’t ever feel guilty for doing what you need to.” Jinnie contemplated getting her number, just to have someone to talk to, his friend list was pretty limited these days.

Maeve’s breathing slowed for a moment at the mention of guilt but she forced a smile as she stood. “Well, I guess I’ll see you next week, then. Thanks for the tea, Jinnie.” She grabbed her coat and purse and gave him a wave as she left the coffee shop, her steps as heavy as her heart. What he had said about guilt…… that was something she knew all about.

Not much later, alone in her apartment, Maeve sat down on her couch. As soon as she walked through the door she'd headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she wore one of her dad's old t-shirts and a pair of flannel pj bottoms. From a drawer in her coffee table she pulled out a box. It had been in the drawer since the day of her father's memorial service, unopened. As she opened it, she held her breath.

On the very top was the memorial program that she had helped her aunt put together. On the front cover was a picture of her dad, the way she wanted to remember him. Not like he had been in the final months. She glanced at it for a moment then opened it. Inside were pictures of herself and her siblings. She had a brother and a sister, each older than she.

She read through the summary of his life, rolling her eyes slightly at the wording used by her aunt, 'his first marriage was dissolved'. Why couldn't her aunt just have said divorced like a normal person? The next part told who had preceded him in death.

His grandparents, his parents, two siblings that had died young, a few other random family members that she had never met.

"Preceded in death by his wife in 2012." Maeve's mother.

Maeve had lost so many. Both of her parents before she even turned 40. The grandparents she hadn't really gotten to know well because she had grown up in a town right hours away.

Each death left a void. But with her dad, there was a feeling of guilt. He had been sick for less than a year and when he'd finally passed, she felt relieved. 

That he wouldn't suffer anymore, that his days and nights weren't a jumble of nurses taking his vitals and trying to talk him into the pain meds that would help him rest peacefully.

And for this relief, she felt guilty. She had never told anyone, not even her siblings or therapist.

With a sigh, she closed the box  and tucked it back into the drawer before she whispered a few words in the direction of the urn that held her father. With heavy feet and mood she took herself to bed and stayed there until the sun rose the next day.