“You might as well have shoved the pills down her throat yourself. You are the sole fucking reason why she was always so depressed, so despondent, so sad.”
“You run a foundation that helps people like your mother. You should know that she was battling her illness way before she met me. I didn’t cause it.”
“You cheated on her constantly.”
“I admit I made some mistakes.”
“She stayed married to you and was miserable the entire time.”
“Gloria was sick.”
“And the minute she dies, you have the audacity to marry the woman you were cheating on her with. How could you ever think that I would be able to forgive that?”
“I didn’t know anything about depression. I didn’t know how to help her. I just knew that I would not leave you without a father. So we both stayed in the marriage and we were both miserable. We just didn’t have the tools that your generation has now.”
“The damage is done. I can’t even have a real relationship because of the shit you pulled. I’m damaged goods. I’m too afraid I’m going to blow up some unsuspecting woman’s life because of what I grew up seeing and you know what? I hate that about me!”
“I did the best I could. I raised you. I fed you. I went to as many games as work would allow me to. What do you want me to say, Jett?”
“And stop calling me Jett! That shit is weird. That’s my football name. A name given to me by my high school football coach who actually gave a damn about me, not you. How do you just wake up one day and start calling your son Jett when I’ve always been Jason? Am I really just a fucking check to you?”
I hear a whooshing sound on the phone and then some other indescribable movement and then… tears. My father is actually crying on the phone.
Ugly crying.
I sit quietly on my hotel bed and listen to years of agony and guilt pour deep from his chest and his gut.
“I’m sorry, Jason.”
Something about the revelation of his pain acts as a soothing balm for my own. It’s exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
An apology that was gut-wrenchingly honest.
I cry tears of my own for my mother, but these are different tears. I’ve finally gotten the apology she deserved to hear a long time ago, and I hope that wherever she is, her soul can finally rest knowing that mine is at peace as well.
I can’t wait to share it with Adrienne.
Me: I talked some things through with my pop.
My phone immediately rings.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m real good now that I hear your voice.”
“Did you yell at him?”
“A little.”
“Did he yell back?”
“A little.”
“You blame him for your mother’s suicide, don’t you?”
“I think if he had been a better husband, she’d still be here with us.”
