Return to Ficlet Index
John sat at his computer desk, the only light in the room coming from the monitor in front of him. He was so good at getting others to talk, but his own emotions always stayed bottled up inside him. And after today, watching his mother’s casket being lowered into the ground, there were emotions boiling up, needing release. Slowly at first, his fingers moved on the keys, tapping out words he was unable to say aloud:
Dear Mom,
You were always there for us, no matter what. All the heartaches, the pain and the laughter, everything – we could always see your smiling face, feel your love. You were the anchor for all of us, even Dad. Maybe especially Dad. It couldn’t have been easy married to him – you had to be mother and father a lot of the time, keeping everything running at home and doing your work at the lab too. Dad told me once that if I wanted to know what being a hero was really all about, I should watch you. He was right. They don’t give medals to astronauts’ wives, but you deserved one.
I know you got the girls through a lot of stuff in their lives – the usual teenage aches and pains, when Annie went through her divorce, when Laurie lost her first baby. You cried with them, and you were almost out of your mind when Jeremiah was born, strong and healthy. For all that, and so many more things, they loved you.
Then there was me. The times you held me when I was feeling down because Dad was late or just not there – I know he did the best he could, but when you’re a kid that doesn’t mean much. Helping me pick out a good school and sending me off with a smile, and so proud when I graduated with honors. Being happy for me when I joined IASA, even though I know it had to have bothered you. Like one astronaut in the family wasn’t bad enough to deal with. But it was my dream, and you told me to go for it. Being there when I woke up with the hangover from hell after Alex left. I didn’t think anything could hurt much more than that.
I was wrong.
You didn’t want anyone to know until they had to. You didn’t even tell Dad until he found the bottle of pain pills in the cupboard. Six months, you told him, that was what you had left, and by God you were not going to stop living, or let us put our lives on hold for you. Dad begged you to at least leave the lab and take it easy, but you wouldn’t hear of it. “I need something to keep my mind off it, Jack. Don’t treat me like I’m spun glass. Don’t turn me into an invalid – not yet.”
He gave in, like he usually did where you were concerned. You sent the girls home, sent Dad and me back to work, went to the lab every day just like normal. And life went on – more or less.
Then came the day you collapsed at work. When we got to the hospital, the doctor told us it was going to be a matter of days, maybe even hours – he didn’t know how you had kept going as long as you had.
I knew.
MacDougall stubborn, even worse than Crichton stubborn. You weren’t gonna give Old Man Death an inch if you could help it. But even you couldn’t fight him forever.
We all went to your room to see you for the last time, and I stood there with my hand on the doorknob, like Mickey Rooney leaving Boys Town for the last time (see, Mrs. Nook, I was paying attention in drama class .... ). And I froze.
I tried to go in, I really did. I could feel Dad and the girls looking at me, but I couldn’t meet their eyes. For a minute, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like my heart was going to stop beating any second. I mumbled something, I don’t even remember what, and ran.
I didn’t go far, just down to the visitor’s lounge. I sat in a chair in the corner, wondering what they were thinking of me, knowing that no matter what they were calling me, it couldn’t touch what I was calling myself.
Coward. Gutless wonder. You finally did it, John – you proved to all of them just what a spineless piece of shit you really are. The one time Mom really needs you, and you choke. You bail, you turn into a tower of Jello. Fine son you are.
But I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see you like that, knowing it was going to be the last time. I didn’t want that to be my last memory of you.
Yeah, right. Like it really mattered what I wanted. Selfish, John, selfish and heartless.
I don’t know how long it was, but Dad found me there later, still sitting and staring at the wall. He told me you were gone. He didn’t say anything about my walkout, and probably never will. If he and the girls can forgive me for it, I’ll never know, because I’ll never be able to ask them.
You probably did – it would be like you.
Now if I could just find a way to forgive myself ....
His hands were trembling as he saved the document, and a single tear fell onto the keyboard.
