Five Years

December 21st, 2017


Dear Momma,

It's been five years today. Five years since dad and I walked into your bedroom to find you on the floor, gone. Five years of ... well, a lot of things. I thought I would write you.

And it's funny, I had been thinking of writing you all day while I was at work, but now that I'm actually sitting on the floor, MacBook on my knees, I'm...I'm not sure what to write. In Christianity, we're taught that God can see your thoughts. At times, I've thought that you can see mine, but that's foolish. You aren't god. So if you are any place that can see or hear me, I have to talk to you. Or, I have to write.

I miss you. That goes without saying. I miss you a ton. You were the one constant in my life, and to have that ripped away without being able to say a proper goodbye - I'll never get over that. I'll never forgive whatever deity chose for that to happen. You'd probably be sad that I've lost my faith, but I have trouble reconciling a loving god with the fact that I didn't get to say goodbye to you. That was needlessly cruel. I think you'd understand though, that part anyways. I may forget a lot of things in life, memories and what not, but the memory of dad waking me up that Friday morning, telling me he was having trouble waking you up, me not thinking this was anything unusual about that, until he said that your lips were "blue" - me literally jumping out of bed to go into the bedroom (yours only a step away from mine from door to door) to see you laying there on your back (he had rolled you from your side onto your back), lips slightly parted, lips blueish, not moving nor breathing... the memory of me yelling at dad to call 911, knowing, KNOWING, what the truth was, but telling him to call while I applied clumsy CPR, him telling me what the operator was saying, me giving up, getting dressed in case I needed to go to the hospital with the EMTs (but knowing... KNOWING), telling Rusty, promising Rusty I would take care of him (because I KNEW).. the memory of hearing the ambulance siren slow to a stop as they came to rest outside of the house, opening the door, calling for them to hurry "please" (still KNOWING), waiting with dad in the kitchen until he mentioned I should go in there to answer any questions about her medical history, her medications, what have you, walking down the hall with him behind me, seeing them clustered around you, one of them kneeling by your side, all of them looking at us... the memory of one of them telling us that you were "gone"... the memory of dad wailing "Oh no" so quietly so heartbreakingly and me turning away as he hugged me to him and I screamed into his chest...

Those memories. The ones of telling Shannon, waiting for her, seeing her reaction, waiting for the coroner to arrive, seeing dad stretched out beside you, arm across your chest...

Those memories. The ones of the day of the funeral, the snow stopping after laying an inch or two across the ground, of delivering the eulogy (I'm sure you heard how dad and Shannon were worried I wouldn't be able to do it - I had to do it), of helping the paul bearers carry your casket to the hearse, being told by the funeral director to stay in the car due to concerns about slipping in the snow, watching as strangers carried your casket to the grave site and turning off the car, getting out and walking to the grave site, being followed by everyone else, the funeral director trying to stop me and me point blank telling him that I didn't care if I slipped and fell, I wouldn't sue but i was going to be there to say goodbye for the last time...

You know why, right? Why I had to do that? Why I had to watch as your coffin slipped slowly down into the hole, watching until it was at the bottom and they were pulling the ropes back up..you know why I had to be pulled away as it started to snow, lightly, once again?

You know. You know, knew, whatever - that I was always there to take care of you. Just as I was once your responsibility, you became mine, and I had to see it through. Until the end. I always knew I would help carry your casket. I always knew I would give the eulogy. I always knew I would wait until your casket hit the bottom of the earth. I always knew I would be the last one to leave the grave site.

Because I love you. That's what love does. That's what love is. Commitment. Trust. Devotion. Fidelis ad mortem. Loyal to the death. So I was.

The trouble is...now what do I do? You were my cornerstone. Without that, the house has become unsteady. It hasn't fallen. But I don't know what to replace it with. If I can. If I'm supposed to.

Wrestling, as you've seen (if you can see me - can you? Can you hear me? Sometimes I hope so. Sometimes...), as helped fill the void somewhat. It's given me a hobby. Friends. Places to go. Even another boyfriend. But lately I don't know if that's the right decision. No, if anything, dad has filled the void and now he's the majority of the reason for my life.

It took me a few minutes to type that. Because, after what happened to you, I don't know if having a person be the reason for my life is the right thing anymore. Is that bad? Are all my experiences going to be colored by what happened to you from now on? You probably wouldn't want that. Scratch that, you're probably not thrilled by the majority of the decisions I've made with my life up to this point. Scratch that, I know you aren't.

There are so many times I've wished I could ask you about things. Get your advice. See how you felt or how you would have done things. Even things that years ago I couldn't have imagined asking you about, I would give a lot to. There are some you may not have had answers for. But I still would have asked. Then again, given how things may have gone if you were still here, there are things I wouldn't have asked you about. I am truly confident that my life would be radically different if you were still here.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Hindsight is 20/20. All those empty cliches.

Right now I kinda want to throw the MacBook at the wall. Because I'm angry. You'd probably hate the fact I get so angry about a variety of things these days. I used to be more optimistic. Now? On my good days, yeah.

Now I'm just rambling. I remember months after you passed (funny thing I can't use the D word, even now. Stupid. Just write it.) months after you died, I had a dream. Part of it involved Colt Cabana, but at the end, I was running towards you and you smiled at me and told me that you loved me and you were proud of me.

Are you? I know you love/d me. But are you proud of me?

You'd probably hate the way wrestling has consumed my life. You'd be worried about the fact I've gained so much weight. You'd stress about the fact I was fired from two jobs (although I think you'd be okay with the current job I have now, given I'm making more money than I ever have). You'd wonder about my relationship. You would absolutely hate how much money I have spent.

About that - I'm sorry I gave $1,000 to a known scumbag when I had people that I was just starting to know but were clearly looking out for me telling me not to do it. I'm sorry I gave him $1,000 out of the money that you had saved and dad told me to keep. I've always wondered if I should have kept that or transferred it back into his savings. I think dad was amazed at the fact you not only built your own savings but you squirreled your money into my savings and even was saving cash in my room. You always told me it was because you thought he would spend it. Well, you were right about that. He's spent a lot of cash over the past five years on four guys he believes are his grand kids but I think he's finally wising up. I'm doing my best on that part but it's sorta like the pot calling the kettle black.

I'm doing with dad what I did with you. Before work every morning, I turn on the hall light or my light, open the bedroom door and look in on him. I wait, not breathing, until I see the covers moving up and down or I hear him exhale.

I am terrified every day to find him like he found you. I don't know if I can take that. I don't know how he takes the fact he's the one who found you gone before waking me up. He said he didn't realize you were dead (that stung to type) until EMS said as much. But I wonder about that. You know I've never asked him if he knew you were gone. I guess I just can't take knowing that. Maybe it's better for me to believe he truly wasn't sure.

Do you know what haunted me for days, weeks, even months after you were gone? Wondering if I had told you that I loved you before going to bed. I remember being sick most of that week, having stayed home Wednesday, Thursday and planning on calling in Friday as well. I remember telling you goodnight that last night. I'm reasonably sure that I told you I loved you then. It's something we all started doing after Nannie passed, ending every conversation with "I love you", telling each other "I love you" before going out the door, assuring each other that "I love you" before going to bed. No, it's the second time that haunts me.

I remember waking up around 2:30 or 3 am. You'd had foot and eye surgery all within the past 5 weeks and had an infection diagnosed on Thursday by the foot doctor. He told you if you didn't stay off of it and take the antibiotic he prescribed, you'd spend Christmas in the hospital. You were worried about that. (God the absolute irony..) But, I woke up from a noise. You were getting back to bed from going to the bathroom, the one that was connected to your bedroom. I helped you back into the bed and...I hate myself for this, but I remember being annoyed that I couldn't get a good night's sleep without being woken up by something. I remember smiling at you though, telling you to get some sleep. And...I think I told you that I loved you.

Months after you were gone, I had to convince myself that I had uttered that simple phrase in order to not feel overwhelming guilt. I couldn't handle the idea that not only had I been annoyed with you but that I had also forgotten or neglected to tell you that I loved you before going back to sleep.

That was 3:30am. Dad woke me up at 8:25am. Something between those hours happened to take you and I still wonder how you wound up on the floor. Were you trying to get to me, knowing I was only steps away? Were you trying to go to the bathroom again when you had a heart attack? Dad said you were curled up facing the bed. Did you fall or slide out and just decide not to try to get back in or did you not have a chance to even try?

Was it peaceful? Did it hurt? What was the last thing you saw or said or thought before you were gone? Did you think of me? Did you think of Dad? Did you think of Rusty or Shannon or Kathy or...?

Sorry. I thought I would make it through this without crying but you probably knew that was impossible.

But I want to know so badly. What happened that night? What happened?? If you could come back to tell me, just for five minutes, I would give anything to know. Should I have objected more strongly to you having an eye surgery then two weeks later the foot surgery? I didn't like how close together they were. I didn't. And it was either during the eye or the foot surgery that you had a small stroke. They had trouble getting you awake from the anesthesia. Was that a sign? The autopsy said you had had a heart attack but I have trouble believing this. You just saw the cardiologist in September, she did an EKG and it was fine. So what the fuck happened?

Sorry, I've started cussing more and you probably wouldn't like that either.

I've seen death in the movies in all sorts of ways. We all watched Nannie and Grandma Dorothy slowly fade away from the cancer. I still think it's irony that you passed ten years after Nannie did. I would like to think that you're with her and PawPaw and all our pets, and Grandma Dorothy, and dad's brothers..

But I don't think it's fair. It isn't fair that I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get time to prepare and I think I should have gotten that. After everything I had done, some deity out there knew how much I loved and depended on you and how much you loved and depended on me and screw them for not giving me one thing I deserved.

A 35 year old woman is throwing a tantrum in the letter she's writing you. It just isn't fair though.

Now, five years later, I realize just how angry I still am over that and how much I still wish I had answers. I remember working with Patty, the woman in medical records in my second job, who never got over her mother dying. I know you wouldn't want me to stay stuck. I think I've done a decent job of not being stuck. Although I don't know if you'd approve of the choices I've made.

But..I do think you'd approve of how close dad and I are. I'm doing my best to take care of him like I took care of you, but he makes it difficult sometimes. He hates how he can't do what he used to. I hate it too. I hate that the strong man who used to let me ride him around the house when I was a little girl can't remember what he did an hour ago. His memory is worse than yours was now. And he's so irritable now. I know he's angry at himself and he's taking it out on others sometimes. He admits he's an asshole (did you ever hear him tell you that? Admit to you he can be an asshole? Would you be shocked by that now?) and he tells me he'll try harder but he's set in his ways now. It's up to me to adapt. I'm doing my best. I promise I am.

My head is starting to hurt. I have more headaches now. Most of them stress related I'm fairly sure. I know you suffered from migraines. I'm fairly sure I'll have to have surgery on my feet at some point. I'm trying to take care of them with proper shoes though. So maybe not.

I kinda don't want to stop writing this because I've needed to write this, write you, for awhile now. Maybe it was for the best I waited until five years had passed but honestly? It feels like just yesterday. I hear that phrase so much and now I know how it feels. Part of me hopes that maybe I'll wake up one day and you'll be back and things will go back to how they were. But that's stupid. I know. But I still do.

But more than anything, I wish I could hear you tell me "I love you" one more time. Just one. It's not a major thing but it's all I want. I'll always want that.

I miss you so goddamn much. It hurts and I'm sorry I couldn't type this without crying but I know you'll understand. You always did. You always were the one who understood everything. I wish you were here. I get asked what I want for Christmas every year and the one thing I want is something no one can give me. And I hate it. I've come to really not care about Christmas. I'm selfish and want something no one can give me.

I want to hear your voice one more time. I want to know you are proud of me. Or, at least, you understand and accept the decisions I've made. I'm doing my best. I swear I am. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard.

Now I really am rambling. I better stop.

I love you Momma. I miss you more than words could ever convey.

Always,
Jenny