It was our first dinner together in three years. Aidan’s eyes flicked across me and back to his plate.
“Jesus died just to point out we shouldn’t let being scared of dying stop us from doing things. All that theology about it being for us, shows we can’t handle our own insignificance in this universe.” He sucked in mouthful of spaghetti noisily.
I kept twirling the spaghetti around my fork. It had only been a year since Mum died. She would be shocked at his flippancy. She had taken Aidan to Sunday school every week until he was twelve. I had treasured those Sunday mornings by myself. I missed her so much. Aidan missed her funeral; he was already busy with training.
Aidan was only home for a week. We were going to fly back together to the United States and I would watch him take off. This was it. My boy might never return.
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