chapter
21
Granddad, where are you? Call me.
The text was from my grandson, followed a series of calls—all of which I ignored.
“I’m sorry, Jeremiah,” I said as I turned my phone off and set it on the desk. I pulled open the desk drawer and placed the gun inside until I was ready for it.
I’d swung by my house and grabbed a few items before I went to the gun store. I’d wanted to get Elizabeth’s favorite suit. A gray pinstripe that made me itch, but she loved me in it. She’d picked it out in Woolworth’s in 1977. She’d bought me plenty of suits over the years, which I seldom wore because I worked in construction until I retired and then usually wore khakis and a polo to church. I might have had nicer suits, but this suit was special.
I pulled it out of my bag and carefully laid it across the bed, along with a purple tie that Jeremiah had given me for Christmas last year. This tie was special, too, because Jeremiah had used his own money to have it made with a U.S. Army medallion on it. I smiled as I thought of how proud he’d been to present that tie to me.
I showered, dried off, then turned on the TV as I got dressed. Elizabeth and I used to watch Let’s Make a Deal every evening before the five o’clock news, so I wanted to end things doing something she and I used to love.
It took me longer than normal to put my clothes on. I guess it was because I was just moving slow, because I wasn’t nervous. In fact, I was ready.
I released a heavy sigh after I surveyed myself in the mirror. The suit, which I hadn’t worn in at least two years, was a little snugger than I remembered. But otherwise, it was fine.
I slowly ran the comb through my thinning hair, patting it down until I was sure that it, too, was just as Elizabeth used to like it.
I moved back over to the window, a nostalgic smile across my face. There’s something about knowing today is your last day on earth that brings a sort of peace. You would think as I stood there, looking out into the courtyard, my mind trying to paint a mental picture of my wedding, that I’d be sad.
But knowing that I was moments away from joining Elizabeth, I felt happy and at ease. The joy of no longer having pain front and center in my thoughts. All that was left now was to leave a note for my family. Honestly, I’d rather have just done what I had to do. But my family was dysfunctional enough. I didn’t want to add to the drama. I had a will that would settle the disputes over what little possessions and money I had. But I hadn’t told anyone where that was, and I wanted to minimize the fighting after I was gone. I left the window and went over to the desk, pulled out the hotel’s notepad, and began writing.
I know you may never understand my decision today. I hope that it does not cause our family to erupt in turmoil. For years I have lived doing what’s best for you all. Now I have to do what’s best for me. You all were right about one thing—I have been depressed, sad, and living in a world that I have no desire to be a part of. The only thing that I want is to be with my wife again. I don’t expect any of you to understand my decision. But this last year has been the most miserable year of my existence, and I do not wish to live another year in that pit of despair.
Do not weep for me, as I have lived a good life. My will can be found in the back of my closet in a brown shoebox on the top shelf. Please honor it accordingly.
Until we meet on the other side, forever my love,
Dad.
I thought about leaving a snide remark about how they were free to sell my house now, or mentioning how them trying to push me out of my house was the wind that pushed me over the cliff. But this would hurt enough. No need to leave a trail of guilt.
I needed an envelope so that the letter would be sealed until whoever found me could take it to them. I opened the desk drawer, found a hotel envelope, then placed the letter inside.