by R. N. Snow
I go back again. There’s an entry I missed in my rush, and I think I saw Hazel’s name.
May 1998
The adoption has gone through. This baby that came into our lives, at my lowest, is now ours. My niece is now officially my daughter. Thank you, Des, for this blessed gift. Her name is Hazel, named after the color of her eyes, and May, for the month she officially became ours. I’m too excited for more words.
My God! Hazel is my cousin! What the fuck? Does she know? Did Aunt Des tell her? Good heavens! This is too much to digest.
As waves of anger overtake me, I have another flashback.
I’m six years old. Mom had been drinking heavily the night before. It’s afternoon. Dad says that he’s taking us to Aunt Des’ house because Mom is sick and he needs to stay with her. His voice sounds like he’s been crying. He makes us pack our bags; asks Hazel to pack my things for me.
“Can’t we say goodbye to Mom before we go, Dad?” I ask.
“No, honey. Mom is sleeping and should not be disturbed. Come on, let’s go.”
I snap into the present. And I walk into Hazel’s room. She is reading a fashion magazine.
“Hazel?”
“Yeah?”
“What happened to Mom that day Dad took us to stay at Aunt Des’ house?”
“Huh?”
“Please, answer me. I’ve been having flashbacks. I just remembered that day. Can you spare me the agony of waiting for these flashbacks? It’s very upsetting for me. Please.”
Hazel sits up and takes a deep breath.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Hazel, could you please stop doing this and tell me what happened to Dad and Mom?”
“Alright. Come and sit down.”
When I have sat down on the bed beside her, she starts talking. “Mom was diagnosed with depression and things began to go wrong. She fought it with everything she had, but at some point, she stopped fighting. That day Dad took us to Aunt Des’ house was the day Mom committed suicide. She hung herself from the ceiling fan in her room.
“Dad couldn’t bear living without us. Aunt Des kept in touch with him till eight months later, when he died of heartbreak. Our parents’ story is a sad one. Now you know.”
There is a knock on the door. It’s Tyler.
“Hey! Hazel, Dr. Allisus is on the phone. He wants us to come over to the hospital now.”
Like rats with tails lit up, we scurry after him and into his car. We get to the hospital and jump out immediately when Tyler finds a parking lot.
Dr. Allisus is in his office, with Aunt Des’ husband. They are both wearing grave faces.
“Welcome y’all,” the doctor says.
“How’s Aunt Des?” Hazel asks, without even acknowledging the greeting.
“Calm down, Miss Grove.”
“Tell us doc. Uncle Rick? What about Aunt Des?”
“She’s left us, Hazel. Her injuries were too severe.”
I faint.
When I wake up, I’m still in the doctor’s office, but on a bed. Hazel and Tyler are staring at me. Uncle Rick is absent.
“How long was I out?”
“About fifteen minutes,” Tyler says.
“Welcome back, Caitlyn. How’re you feeling?”
“Physically I’m okay. Where’s she now?”
“She’s been moved to the morgue. I’m sorry.”
“So, we can’t see her?”
“Not until the burial, unfortunately.”
“Thank you, doc. Let’s go,” Hazel says.
“Take it easy, kids. Goodbye.”
Hazel cries all the way home, deep, heart-wrenching sobs. I cannot even cry. I’m too numb to shed any tear. All of this is my fault. I killed my aunt and here I am, living. Do I deserve this life? I doubt it.
Shut up! Are you contemplating suicide again? Aunt Des gave her life because of you. Don’t you dare insult her memory.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Our household has been gloomy for two weeks now. My siblings go to work and come straight home. I told the gang what happened, and then stopped hanging with them after school. Georgia told Jeremy what happened. He has come around twice: the first time, to offer his condolences, and the second time, to check up on me. He understands that I’m grieving and has given me as long as I want to do so.
Two days after Aunt Des died, I go to Tyler’s room. I tell him how I feel terrible and responsible for her death.
“It’s not your fault, Cait,” he says, with a serious look. “If she was meant to die, she would still have through other means. All you should do now is live right. Do not let her death be for nothing. And stop beating yourself up, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks Ty. I love you.”
“Love you more, sis,” he says, hugging me.
The talk with Ty reassured me some, but I still don’t feel very good.
Uncle Rick called yesterday. Aunt Des’ funeral is next week on Saturday. He wants to get the painful part out of the way, in his words.
A week later, we meet as agreed at Winchers Cemetery. Almost everyone in attendance is dressed in black. The casket was closed a few minutes ago. The priest is extolling her virtues and saying how she was a nice woman, that heaven has gained an angel, and she would be sorely missed.
I feel the pocket of my black jacket for the folded piece of paper that Hazel gave me this morning before we left the house. She said it’s Mom’s suicide note and that I’ve read it before, but I need to read it again, because of my memory loss. I thank her and take it from her.
As Aunt Des is being lowered into the grave, her four-year-old daughter asks her father, “Dad, when will we see Mom again?”
“I don’t know honey. She’s gone to a far place. But she’ll always watch over us.”
After he answers her, there is absolute silence for a few minutes. Everyone, including me, feels horrible for the little girl that will now be without a mother.
The gang came to pay their last respects, Jeremy and Georgia too. They offer their condolences to everyone affected by Aunt Des’ death before leaving. I tell them that I’ll be seeing them soon.
Aunt Des has been covered with earth. People are leaving. Even Uncle Rick has left with Eve. I’m watching the gravedigger at work. He’s the one putting the rest of the earth over the grave. My siblings walk up to me.
“Cait, we’re done here. It’s time to go home.”
“You go on. I’ll catch the bus. I want to stay here a while.”
After trying to persuade me to no avail, they ask me if I’ll be fine by myself and I say sure. Then, they too leave. Apart from the gravedigger, some families who came to visit their loved ones and me, there is no one else in the cemetery.
I walk to one of the many maple trees planted on the grounds and sit on its trunk. Then, from my pocket, I pull out Mom’s suicide note. It is neatly folded into three. I gently unfold it and begin to read.
Dearest ones,
I have gotten to the point where the pain I’ve bottled up for several years must come to an end. I’ afraid that I’ve given up. The fight is over. I’m throwing in the towel.
Noah,
Not enough words can describe what a beautiful soul you are. You were there during my best and worst moments; you stood by my side when any other person would’ve given up. I never felt like I had any friends growing up, in high school as well. No matter what group or type of people I hung out with, I always was an outcast. From a very young age, I gave myself the idea that the world is a bad place and that everyone is terrible. I taught myself to hate people easily, mainly the ones with bad intentions. It led to a point where I completely gave up on humanity. But meeting you taught me differently. I’m glad I was yours. I’m sorry to do this to you. You are not like the rest of them; you restore anyone’s faith in humanity when they meet
you. I see our children growing up to be like their dad. You’re my best friend. I love you.
Hazel,
For Mom’s sake, please stay strong. That’s all I ask of you.
There’ll be times when you’ll feel as if you cannot handle it all, but trust me, you can. I want my children growing up to love and care for one another; this you will learn to do first. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it is that you were always far too mature to be a ten-year-old. When you get older and new trends begin to dictate otherwise, don’t get rid of your glasses. They add character to your soulful personality. You’re beautiful. I love you. Take care of your brother and sister.
Tyler,
You are exactly like your father. You made me realize that there are good in people. Before you or him were brought into my life, I didn’t know that there could ever be anyone who would treat me well. I changed my mind with you both. Ever since you knew how, you’ve been looking out for your sisters without being told. You are protective of the people you love and tend to feel the need to hide your emotions. However, building up a wall to form some sort of convincing ideal that you are fine is just as damaging. Remember that sometimes it’s okay not to be okay. I love you.
Caitlyn,
My youngest gem, I look at you, and I see myself. I see a version of me that I once was—which was full of constant happiness without any true reason, empathy, and never-ending curiosity. At your age, it may seem unnoticeable now, but believe me when I say I can already see it. Please, continue carrying the love you have for people and life; see everything in a different light that others cannot comprehend. Be optimistic about things, even during the ups and downs, you may encounter throughout your life. When you become older, you will learn why I did what I chose to do. I love you.
I’M SORRY LOVES, BUT THIS IS MY WAY OUT.
PS: Whenever any of you feel down, listen to the music we danced to together, the books I read you, and remember the times we had. Never forget me.
Love always and forever,
April Grove.
I read it the second time, before folding it and putting it back in my pocket. The leaves are still falling, life is still going on beautifully for most people. I’m one of the other people.
I stand up and slowly make my way out of the gates and down to the bus stop.