After My Gramps Died

  Thunder flashed, once across the sea of dead bodies headed by engraved stones. Droplets of rain followed soon after, heeding the call of it's master. Damn, I’d better go before I completely get dampened, i muttered as I hurriedly got up, brushed my knees for the grass and dirt and blew a farewell kiss to grandfather, safe from the rain, 6 ft under. 

  The rain followed me, like a careless mischievous child, taking care to land on my glasses and favourite coat, hence when I finally slid into my red car,parked unfortunately at the other far end of the cemetery, I was completely drenched. 

  Ugh just great, now I’ll be late for work and wet! Suddenly, a white envelope caught my eye, lettered in cursive and closed by..one of Her stickers. 

  What was That doing here? 

  Unless Grandpa had somehow rosen from the dead and took out once again one of her letters, I had no idea how it had gotten there…

  Unless…She had..Just sent it?

   That bloody idiot of a woman, she was 3 years late and on the wrong side of the world if she was really apologizing to Gramps Now? I gently picked up that foul letter, reeking of guilt and..no, she had no regrets doing such things to Gramps,and us. 

  A tremor ran up my spine as I imagined her perfectly manicured nails, sitting on now wrinkly skin touching this letter beforehand and nearly had to hold myself back from throwing it as far as I could away from me.

I glanced at the time, then at this cursed letter. Well, I already had no chance of reaching to work on time, and as seeing that the miracle of a lifetime: Gramps’s beloved Sentia was finally experiencing the slightest hint of guilt for doing such things to him, I might as well open it and see for myself the excuses that women had managed to write up as a apology for her misdoings against my beloved gramps.

  And that's how, sitting in a rainy car, years after The Incident, I started delving into Gramps and Sentia's damned romance.

  Hands shaking, I pried open the old yellowed envelope, and a nauseating scent of aged lavender started spreading into the car, HEr signature scent. Gramps had gone crazy every time he smelled something like that.

  Dear Howard, I’ll spare you the pleasantries. I know you see me as a monster, someone who got pregnant with another and abandoned you, at the hands of the law. Well she’s bloody right isn’t she? That's what she was as a monster. How had it taken years for her to come to that conclusion? 

  Well, I’ll tell you why I did it. I know it’s been too long, and I don’t even know if this letter had made it to you, or it had and it was now smoldering in that old fireplace we used to kiss at (bless it, it’s the only remnants of our romance, poor fella’s been through everything), but you need to know why I had to go away from you. I wish I could say it was me, but it was You. 

  I could barely stop my hands from shaking as I started seeing red. That old crow! For the first time, I was glad that Gramps was dead, he would have surely ripped this letter to shreds by this point, and then started waving that old poker around in a tantrum, which would scare the children. 

  I know it sounds petty, and illogical, but that’s because you are seeing yourself through your own eyes. You changed Howard, I can’t put it another way.  You.. I don’t even know how to put this, became obsessed with me, in a way. HA! 

  However, something in me shifted. Gramps went crazy whenever he smelled lavender, shouting that she was hiding somewhere in the house, just away from him. Him buying presents for her baby, then burning it in that fireplace, laughing maniacally all the while…I hadn't been able to put a finger on it. 

  But..Now, it all seems to make sense according to Sentia…But..It couldn't be… I read on, brow furrowed.

  It was all too slow, your changes, so that when I finally realized it was almost too late to run away. When we first met, you were gentle and thoughtful, buying sprigs of my favourite lavender, and listening to me.. Truly listening to me, taking in my words. 

  But slowly, as the baby that We made- We made it Howard. Not John, bless his soul for taking me in. Not anyone else. I had to lie to you about the identity of his father just to get away from you safely with the law on my side. That's right. I had to. 

  As the baby grew, you became more irrational. You would suspiciously sniff me to make sure that my lavender scent was not covering any other manly scents, kiss me Possessively, to the point where I had to practically wrench myself away from you, and question me on every friend that was male I had. 

  The only thing that didn’t change was your frequent gifts of Lavender. Oh god. I see it now. It was like my identifying scent, the way you demanded me to put it on, the smell of fresh meat to you, the starving dog, the scent that announced to everyone your mark on me. I can scarcely look at Lavender now. 

  The only reason why I sprayed this letter with our smell was because I knew you would come sniffing, looking for it, like the bulldog that you were, furiously guardian over me, your prized bone. (I’m throwing away the bottle of lavender immediately afterwards.)

  I don’t require an apology letter, nor tears  shed on my behalf after you finally realise your mistakes. I just need you to realise that you were not what you thought you were.

  Blood pounded through my veins. What the actual &^%#*. Either that woman had finally lost her mind and was trying to get us to lose ours too, or I had never Really known my grandfather.

  To my utmost horror, I felt myself more inclined towards the second one. After all, wasn't he always so unstable, flying into rages whenever he heard Seria’s name and throwing tantrums whenever me and my wifi displayed the slightest bit of affection? Hadn’t he had one too many vases of lavender in his room? Had I ever really known my grandfather at all? 

  The allegedly real Howards was a jealous, obsessed and irrational man that drove his wife away by himself, But the grandfather I had known all my life was caring towards me, doting on me and going out of his way to help out. I had dismissed his antics when he was nearing death as his senility, but now… it appears to me that he had always been like this, he had just acted up more when we were around now because he knew that with his age, nobody would suspect anything. 

  So this was it. 

  Stunned into speechlessness, I sat in my car, as the last few platters of raindrops made their round, falling and splattering on the rain dotted window. And as the  rain cleared I could now see my grandfather’s grave, once a sight that brought me to tears, I now knew not what to think.However, I knew something that I could Do.

  Reaching into my car's underseat drawer for a paper and a few pens, I started writing: Dear Seria…I apologize on behalf…

  If Gramps wasn’t going to resolve his issues himself with an overdue apology, I would do it for him, as my last act as his loyal, loving grandson, a role that I now felt uncomfortable with. 

  Things weren’t what they seemed at all. I Just wished it wasn’t too late for my grandpa to really see this letter and realize all of this himself.