Letter to a Ghost

Today was the day I finally opened the letter I had written myself 10 years ago. 

‘It’s gonna be a hectic day at work! New projects, missed projects, meetings about the projects. Don’t even get me started with the traffic jam on monday's,' one would normally say.

I, on the other hand, am having a slow morning, almost like a Sunday without the church bells and the bird chimes. Sitting on my kitchen counter watching the dust settle and the street empty out. 

Mr. Chandler from next door, who is by the way the funniest fellow, pulls up his car in his driveway.

Shoot! It's almost noon. That reminds me, lunch!

Hoping back down, I continue slicing up the carrots I harvested from the garden up front. Odd huh? Commonly, gardens settle on the backyard of houses. I like to be unusual in an ordinary world ;). Kidding. I just happened to come across this house which was the only one available in a couple of blocks’ radius from Radley Sanitarium. I did grow fond of the bizarre layout of the place as it became my home though. 

Growing up, I lived a strictly routined life full of disturbance and misery. Here’s how my mornings went. When I wake up, I take mine and my mother's food to the 'dungeon' father keeps her in. She wasn’t allowed to get out most times. He did let her stroll around the huge mansion passed down to him from generations when he thought she behaved. Although one simple attempt of escaping would cost her it. It’d take weeks before he forgave her and let her out again.

“Sema! The fire has caught on the rugs…” my mother yelled,

Grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall by the hallway, I ran into the living room splashing it all over the burning carpet by the fireplace. 

“Here, give me your hand," I helped her cross the clutter caused by the falling of the table in front of her. 

My mother hurled the log in her hand angrily, and walked out to the garden. She sat on the deck over the grass counting the tiny wooden balls of the necklace she swirls around her wrist. She’s gets anxious whenever she messes up anything.

It’s been about 10 years approximately since my father’s incident. The life he forced on her left her with a condition that gets her giddy. Doctors call it “Essential Tremor”.  

Dear future me, it’s finally been a decade_10 whole years have passed_since you passed. Ironic, huh? Since we* passed? Should I use the 1st or 2nd point of view as I write to you? Haha it’s weird. I’ll stick with 2nd, my luck doesn’t work on 1st tries anyway. If you asked me what luck means to me, I’d tell you it’s non-existent. If you asked me on a deeper level, I’d tell you that it is a very unfair concept, and it isn't as pretty as it sounds.

“Mom, lunch is ready” I called out. 

“Mom…?” I find her laughing hysterically looking through the neighbors window from the garden. 

“Darling let me ask you…” mom says while she tries to calm her laugh turning it into cute giggles.

“Why do old people seem to be so good at gardening?” She asks. 

Without giving me a chance to respond, she blurts out “Bec..because they have lots of thyme in their hands,” and bursts out into laughter again. 

Laughing I turned to the window expecting to see Mr. Chandler. I knew those were his magazine jokes coming out of my mom’s mouth. 

“Well, Good afternoon, ChanMan…” I still couldn't help but feel cringe about the nickname he insists to be called by.

“I see you’ve given mama her daily dose of laugh,” I say smiling at him gratefully.

 “Oh, absolutely...her exhilaration towards my wisecracks partially fulfills the dream I had to become a stand up comedian”. My mother starts fiddling with her necklace, blushing. If only she were at her best, they could make eachother happy. 

“Join us, will you?” I ask.

“I'll be right there,” he responds, as he usually comes over.

…

You are probably wondering how you would ever get this if you’re not even in existence. Funny story, I plan on getting it addressed to the graveyard you’ve been buried in, haha! Hoping that you find it as you hover around your floating butt around there. I assume there isn’t much to do as a ghost.

My father was a wealthy man. He was also a mad man. It’s hard to call him my father because he was hardly even a decent human. He absolutely loved my mother. Sorry, I meant obsessively. He made sure she lived up to being his puppet, and sadly he did fulfill his intentions. He abused her with drugs, and so much psychological and physical pain.

It is late in the afternoon.

Got everything ready to take my mom to her checkup at Radley. I grab the keys to my crossovers and march outside. 

“Will you let me drive today, Sem?” She asks tensely. 

Her question breaks my heart. My absurd father had her under his complete control. He is the reason she is going to these “checkups”. 

“Ofcourse mama dearest." I say feeling confident in her, she has been doing so well lately. 

“Your mother has a condition Sema. I am the only one who could treat her right, and that is a secrete.You will have her taken away from us if  you don't keep it.” He’d said to me ever since I was a little girl. At 1st, I would believe him and actively obey him hoping one day he’d cure her for us and we would be a normal happy family. One that goes out in the garden and has a picnic days. One that brings people over for brunch and dinner. One that sends out holiday cards to their friends and family. One that takes care of one another. Oh we were taken care of, just not the right way.

…

“He would have never let her free. He played you all along. I wish he pays for all the damage he has caused is all that I can say. What is it like out there, in the after world? Do you wake up to your parents calling on you? Does your mom bring your uniforms from the dryer, rushing you to get dressed? Does your dad carry your school bag to the car and drive you to school? I hope the other side compensates :(."

Eventually, I started resenting my father more and more. His words became worthless to me, and so I stood up to him.  He noticed that I had started making little changes in his plans for us. He then become crueler than ever. I couldn't help but feel as though I was the cause of her suffering to rise more than ever. I decided to choose death instead of living with such burden. My father had a whole drawer full of medicines he would force my mom to take. I studied each of them when he wasn’t around. It took me months before I created a mixture of the pills that caused instant heart failure. I wrote 1 letter to myself, and another one apologizing to my mother. 

“Doc will see you now” says the nurse.

“Well hello there you too, looking vibrant as ever,”  Doc says. 

Doc was unfortunately my father's good friend. He was the only one that ever came to our house regularly, as in once a year. Unaware of the circumstances, he’d have a meal with the three of us. He’d always come bearing gifts to me.

He has been treating my mother since the start. 

“I have good news today,” he announces excitedly. 

“You are officially discharged from Radley!” 

I look at her. She’s starting to tear up. Before my water works started, I cheered and hugged her.

“I don't know what to say Doc, thank you so much!” I say.

My mother stunned, she adds, “I never thought this day would ever come.” wiping her tears. 

“I will still be keeping an eye on you, whenever I come to visit. Just as a friendly concern," Doc says. 

“That would be of big gesture Doc…” without letting me finish, he kindly says, “We’re family Sem."

One night, I heard the screams of my mother. I snapped out of bed, my heart racing rapidly. It appeared to be the perfect moment. I quickly snatched the remedy from under my bed, and went to the kitchen to dissolve it with water. Before I proceeded with my actions, I ran back to my room to get the letter I had written to my mother. When I came back to the kitchen, I froze. There he was, laying on the floor. Loosley rests in his hand, the cup my potion was poured into. I started shaking, and found it impossible to carry myself. I was in the midst of extreme shock. Although, I couldn't help but notice that there was a hint of relife deep inside of me.

It's late at night. There we were, watching our comfort show.

The both of us have never been more happier and at ease in our lives. My mom just got a chance to rewrite her story! Not many get that chance.

Mr. Chandler has fallen asleep on the couch he is sitting on. He must be tired from making us a celebratory dinner earlier.

I'm laid on her lap, as she's gently stroking my hair. I'm slowly sinking into a twilight zone. While I'm hanging between reality and dreams, I felt complete composure.

I pull myself out of the coziness of the sofa and my mom, kissing her goodnight.

I walk into my room, straight to my closet to find a box I've been hiding for a long time. Inside of it are memories I prefer to keep buried. Even so, I reach out to the letter and unfold it. I've been thinking of it all day, but I was terrified to read it. Somehow, I'm not anymore. Funny how things can change in a heartbeat. Yet life always goes on, doesn't it?

“Say…does she visit you at the cemetery? Unless…well unless she’s joined you. Boy I really hope she hasn’t yet. She deserves the world. I wish you had been able to give it to her. I wish she leads her own life someday. With some miracle. Well, I guess this is it then. Take it easy me! ;)”

The End