Words I'm sure she never truly believed I would ever have the chance to read.
Words I'm still not convinced I can face.
Not because I'm afraid of what they'll be. Because they'll be the last of her words I'll ever get. She'll never say another thing to me. Never share another thought. Write me another note. Another I love you. This is it.
But it's time.
After seeing my mom.
After truly seeing Jovi.
I have to do this. Because I don't want to be scared anymore.
Sliding one finger under the flap, it loosens without much effort, the glue mostly dissolved from all the times I passed the envelope back and forth between my hands.
Inside is a single sheet of paper, folded three times.
Tears are already rolling down my cheek before I read the first line.
Dear Liz,
How strange. It only occurs to me now that I've never written you a proper letter. Stranger still, that this is the letter I'm writing. And hopefully, it's one you'll never read. Which means, I definitely need to write you a real letter once I'm done here.
I'm stalling. I'm sure you noticed. You notice everything. It used to drive me nuts when I was a kid. But later, knowing you always had your eyes on me, was the thing that made me feel safe. Confident. Gave me the courage to be outin the world and live without fear, because I knew you were there. Watching. Making sure I didn't screw up too bad. Making sure no one else did either.
Remember that time Sadie Hoffmeyer thought she was being so sneaky stealing my Halloween candy out of my backpack while we were walking home from school? Man, I don't think I've ever seen someone as scared as Sadie was when you calmly told her to 'Put that back. Now.'
How old were you? Nine? And already a hardass.
I'm still stalling.
Liz. This sucks. Writing this letter is both the shittiest and most important thing I may ever do. It's the shittiest because if you ever have to read it, I fucking died. And that, well, that bums me out next level.
Seriously. It breaks me just thinking about it. Not dying. Because, whatever, I'd be dead. But leaving the kids? Simply writing those words steals the breath from my lungs.
But I don't have the luxury of pretending those sorts of things don't happen. That life is free of tragedy and that terrifying thoughts could never become a reality. And we both know why.
So I'm writing this letter, Liz. Because writing it also calms that raging, heartbreaking fear inside me. Because if what I fear most in the whole world ever came to pass, there's only one person who could make me less afraid. And that's you.
It feels silly to ask, because I know the answer is yes. So I won't. I'll tell you though, because if I don't, you'll doubt it. And your crazy brain will think it's possible that someone else would do it better. Could do it better. And there's no one Liz. No one but you.
You're the only person I trust to care for my children if I'm not there to do it myself.
You're the only personwe trust.
Tammy and Abe were great parents to Trent, and they're the best grandparents to Remmi and Gavin. And those are the roles we want them to keep. Those are the roles we believe they're best in.
Jovi. Well, Jovi is complicated. Not because he doesn't love the kids. Or because we don't trust him. We do. On both fronts. But when it comes to the kids, he comes in just short of where you land. So, I guess, if you ever have to write this letter, consider writing it to him.
I'm joking.
Sort of.
I love you, Liz. I love you so much, sometimes it makes my heart hurt. Especially because I think sometimes you don't think you deserve that kind of love. You do. So much.
Which brings me to my closing thoughts. This letter may be a hot mess, but there are two things I want to make crystal clear.
You are the person I trust most to care for my children.
