Ses Souvenirs

I never thought I’d be writing this at all, let alone at 25 years old. Before death comes for its appointment with me, I need to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Mama, I never thought I would have made it this far without you. I know you have always felt that I was too young to remember; I know what happened to the man who would be called my father. The memories are faded, but the images are there, and I put them together long ago. So, I thank you for saving me. I know that he is buried in our backyard and that you put him there. I know that he was hurting me, but don’t worry, I have worked through it. I am at peace with my life.

My father was a drunk, and it wasn’t your fault. I remember him coming home before your shift at the diner. He would be dirty from the factory work, and somehow, he would shower and still be filthy. He smelled like metal and smoke. Anytime you would work the 3^rd shift, it was always the same. We would sit down for dinner as you rushed out of the door. We would eat, and everything would seem normal. He was normal. He would ask me about my day and what we did.  He would tell me that I was bright, beautiful, and clever. I’d go into my room and play afterward. I now know that he would drink all night. I wasn’t sure what the smell was then, but now I grasp it. I have never drank because of it. This is why I have never drunk alcohol when everyone else was, even when the family wanted to celebrate. This is why I wanted water or juice. I did not want to become the monster I saw on those nights when he crept into my room.

Some nights, his taste was for whiskey, while others were more of cheap beers. He would come tuck me in, and if I complained or asked to stay up later, he would slap me or shove me. I stopped asking, but that didn’t help. He would grip my arm and throw me to the bed. That is how the craters in the wall got there. My body hit the wall more times than I could count. He was worse in the winter months when he knew I’d be fully covered all day and night due to how cold it would be. Sometimes, we did not have heat, and he was rougher than usual.

It is incredible how the mind can force you to forget trauma in order to survive. That is what my therapist says happened. The events of those nights were too much for my young mind, so I pushed it out. My mind was in denial of it all. Through different exercises and meditation, I have more memories than I care to, but it is more important to know the truth.  

I did not know that I could tell you. I thought I was the one in the wrong, and my behavior angered him. I didn’t want the punishment to continue when you got home, so I kept quiet. All it took was one night. One night, you came home early because you were not feeling well. This was his second time climbing on top of me. 

He was hot, like he had a fever. Beer fogged my nose and made my eyes tear up. I wiggled hard, attempting to communicate my discomfort. I prayed he would not like my behavior and get off me. He just relaxed more of his weight on top of me to further his control. His clothes were rough, itchy almost. That weight gave me a feeling of being caged like an animal.  He didn’t care. He continued his assault as if my actions meant nothing. He pulled down his pants. I turned toward the wall to mentally prepare myself to disappear. He forced himself into me, and the tears came uncontrollably.

“Stop crying.” I couldn’t stop. He muffled the sound with his hand. I thought of cartoons, school started soon, and how excited I was to see my friends. I thought of anything that could take me away from this moment.

“Be a good girl and stop crying. I’ll finish quicker.” I heard the door but didn’t know I heard it. I prayed to God for years that it would stop and finally end. I wanted it to all end, but I did not know how to end it myself. My angel finally came, and it was you, mama. All that I endured, and I didn’t think you would be the one to save me.

Whatever you hit him with rang out in the night like a bell. I screamed. Do you remember what you said to me? “I am here now, and this will never happen to you again. You are a safe baby girl. I love you, and you are safe.” From that moment on, you have kept your word, and I have been safe and felt more love than ever.

I did not know it at the time, but I heard the last moments of his breath. I looked around the corner, afraid he would hurt you, but instead of seeing you hurt, cowering in the corner, I saw you dragging his bloody body across the hall. I heard the back door slam, and I stood in the dark of the living room with his blood on my bare feet as you buried him in the backyard. It took hours. His brain matter, skin, and hair were scattered across the yard across the snow. Then, the snow started to fall again, filling your steps and covering his blood. You cleaned my feet and dressed me. I listened as we sat in the ER, and you watched over me as the doctors checked me out.

“I came home early from work, and she was alone with these bruises I’ve never seen before. My husband left her alone. I heard you say repeatedly to the nurse, doctors, and then to the police. This was the story you told everyone who asked. It was the story you told for weeks.

They let us go home. I watched as you cleaned his blood off the tile and threw out the blood-soaked rug. Thank you for this. I thank you for making sure I never grew up in that ass-backward town. You picked us up and moved us. We only took what we could fit in the old Honda Civic. I don’t know how you did it, but you did. I thought I understood why you did it at the time, but you did, and that is all that matters. I watched you take night courses and earn a degree for a better job. Then, I watched you become my biggest supporter in everything I wanted to try. You ensured that I had what every two-parent home had, regardless of what it took.

You have been the most incredible mom any kid could ask for. I needed you to know that I knew that you made the greatest sacrifice and that it did not go unseen. I have seen you. I see you, and you are everything I wanted to be. I am dying, and my life does not feel any less whole. I know there would have been much more ahead, but I do not think I am missing some grand adventure or unforeseen event. Thank you, and I love you, mama.

I sealed and kissed the envelope, writing Mama across the front. Tears had fallen onto the letter and now onto the envelope. I hadn’t grieved my impending doom, but here I was crying. I cried for all the things I never said to my mother. They were long overdue.

I pulled out the next sheet of notebook paper. This letter was just as heartfelt but not as deep.

I was already an adult when you came into my life, but that does not lessen your contributions. You, David, have been the best stepfather I could ask for. You appeared to be absolutely in love with my mother, and I see it in how you see her. I watch you both move through the world connected. There is an authentic appreciation for her and who she is. You came along with my third favorite person. My little brother Jordan. If anything, that is what I will miss: seeing him grow up. You are giving my mother a second chance to be a parent without all the drama. You helped my mother become whole again. I know she did not allow you to date her for the longest time, but you did not give up. I watched you become her best friend. She leaned on you, and you were available whenever she needed you.

 I know she told you what happened to my father. For a few weeks, she cried all the time, and you were there each time, holding her. One night, I overheard you telling her it wasn’t her fault, and she protected me. You allowed her to be vulnerable in a way she has never been able to. I wish you could spend forever together, but sadly, I discovered why you are in her life. I thank you for making her happy and me, but you don’t deserve her. I investigated you after she told you about my father. I had you followed by a PI I knew. He is a close friend. He was happy to do it for free, especially after what he had found. Something didn’t feel right after that day. Who tells someone they are a murderer, and they stay around? No distance, no time to think. No one is that in love. I discovered you were his brother. My father’s brother. Revenge is only sweet when the victim doesn’t see it coming. I wish I had the strength to kill you like my mother did your brother. I wish I could see your brain spill out like his. You are just as cruel. You gave her such hope. He deserved what he got, and so do you. I have slowly been poisoning you. It has been the best seven years. She will mourn our deaths, and she will move on.

In my research, I noticed that you could not hold down a job for long. I see the motivation for revenge as also inspiring you to grow up. You have traveled and enjoyed life more than you have before. Your credit was not that great; you were behind on your vehicle payments. You used her, and then you planned on killing her. I am happy to inform you that you will die the day you receive this letter. My mother will be far away from you. You will die before you can do anything to her. I’ll leave you with this because you are dying to know how I found out. Your son told me. Adults forget how much they expose their kids to. They see and hear everything. Next time, you might want to remember this. Well, in your next life, at least. For all the love that has now turned to hate. Thank you. I will die a happy woman.

I folded his note up. I pushed it into the envelope. I was angry. I could barely finish signing the outside with his name. The next and last note was for my stepbrother.

Jordan, you have been an awesome brother. Please don't be sad for me. I am happy. You have brought joy to Mama and me. Death happens. Sometimes, it is unexpected. It is not so surprising with older people I know, but everything will be okay. Do not be afraid of death. Do not let grief haunt you, either. You are young and have plenty of life left. Last, we talked about how you wanted to be an artist. It would be best if you focused on that. No matter what, travel the world when you are done with school and explore your art. I have made sure you will be able to. Reading this is interrupting your drawing time, so I won’t keep you. Keep being the sweet boy you are. I love you and am thankful for your presence in my life.

I now had letters for each person in my life that I held dear. I hugged my smell frame and balled up in my hospice bed. It was cold—a never-ending cold that could not be sated with more blankets. The cold overwhelmed me, and death’s claws grabbed at my heart. I smelled roses and fresh herbs. The room was no longer medicinal. The endless sleep took me without my control. I welcomed it with a smile.