After that night when he had dinner with the family, Atticus hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep.
The realization that seventeen years had truly passed weighed on him, filling him with guilt for enjoying his life in this world while wondering how his mother on Earth must be feeling.
It felt wrong. Yet, deep down, he knew his mother would want the best for him.
But then, a thought crept in that frightened him even more: she might have moved on. It had been seventeen years, after all, and if she had managed to find peace, it would be best for her.
But the idea of his mother forgetting him gnawed at him. It felt selfish, but he couldn't shake the feeling.