On a deep sigh my eyes open staring at the blank ceiling, at nothing. Then I notice a tiny crack and I can’t help but let out a chuckle. In all my years, nothing has ever come closer to representing the fear I’ve been carrying more than that tiny crack in the ceiling. One hairline fracture in my armor could grow until everything comes crumbling down on top of me. I guess it’s finally time for the truth to come out and let the chips fall where they may.
As I glance around my bedroom, seeing all my beautiful surroundings, it’s a far cry more than I ever hoped for or deserved but I earned it, all of it. My eyes land upon the table by my windows. Lying on top are pictures of my children not only my boys but their wives and my three grandchildren. They are my life, always have been. They were my saving grace more than they will ever comprehend. If they only knew that they are the true reason for my survival.
Feeling extra emotional, I reach into my nightstand and pull out my journal. My hands gently rub the leather-bound book, thinking of the first day I started writing in it. It was almost six years ago, after I found out about my diagnoses, right before I heard from Laura and found Fallon. Up until then, I was an internal wreck, going through the motions. Then that one phone call from Laura gave me the thing I needed the most. From the minute I laid eyes on Fallon, I knew what had to be done. From then on, I had a purpose. One that would help me to prepare and take my mind off my doom. Beginning on that day, the journal became a way for me to tell my story while I prepared my sons for a life without me.
Grabbing the pen attached to the book, I open it and with a heavy heart, I write my latest entry.
Today is the day that I have feared would come. It’s not the end, but I never feared the end. In some ways, I look forward to it, to the rest. No, today is the day that I prayed would never come, the day they will all fight me.
What makes me livid is that in a matter of minutes, everything was exposed. It wasn’t by choice, or by my admittance but the second I saw that medical file in Theo’s hands, I knew all my plans were for nothing.
Even this journal could be misunderstood. They could take the pages I filled for nothing more than excuses instead of the true reasons behind my decisions.
I wanted to leave my boys something I never gave them. I wanted to give them, me. All of me. The true me, not the facade. I shielded them from her their whole lives, but they deserve to know their mother for who she really was and why she did some of the things she did.
Every decision made and every day I survived was for you, my sons.
Catherine Stern