Forever And A Day

by J.E. Bolton

  *****

  The evening finally arrived and so did Mattie. She took a quick, awkward glance at me and quietly walked toward my father. As usual, no words were spoken. She sat on the corner of his bed and gently squeezed his hand.

  A few moments of silent vigilance passed. The door gently opened. It was the doctor. He stood outside the room and motioned for Mattie and I to meet with him in the hallway.

  We left my father’s side and met with the doctor. Nervous feelings grew, as he tried to find the right words in that solemn moment. Then again, he didn’t have to say anything. We already knew what was going to happen.

  Mattie wiped her tears and gained her composure. “We don’t have to ask, do we?”

  The doctor let out a heavy sigh and nodded in agreement. “This goes along with the final stages of his kind of cancer,” he replied sympathetic.

  “Will it be soon?” She asked.

  “The next few days will be most crucial, but I will say one thing. Your father’s got a good, strong spirit.”

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you both about,” he replied. “You might want to consider placing him in Hospice care as soon as he‘s released.”

  Mattie shook her head in seeming disbelief. “It really is only a matter of time, isn’t it?” She asked faintly, as though the words uttered from her mouth bitter and heavy.

  “I wish I had the right answer for something like this. All doctors do,” he replied sympathetically. “Waiting is always the hardest part of this process, but that‘s all we have is time. Take him home and spend as much time as you can with him.”

  He walked away, and Mattie hurried around the corner. She leaned against the wall and wept heavily. I walked around the corner where she was and gently patted her on the shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” I asked concerned.

  She gained her composure, wiped her eyes, and shook her head, as though she tried to assure me she was fine. “I’ll be fine.”

  “This is a tough time for all of us.”

  She changed the subject and seemed confused. “They told me you found him on the floor.”

  I shook my head. “I did.”

  “Why did you save him, considering how you’ve always felt about him? I thought of all people, you‘d be the last person to come to his rescue.”

  I tried to find the right words without telling her about the night before and sounding like a lunatic. “Let’s just say it’s a long story. I couldn’t let him die, not alone and not like that. Besides, we’re family,” I said, as the words involuntarily came out without regret.

  We walked back into my father’s hospital room. Mattie knelt by his bedside and held his hand. I stared out the window and contemplated everything that took place within the last twenty-four hours.

  Death is a peculiar creature. It takes away in certain areas, yet gives back in others. Nothing mattered that night. Not unnecessary animosity or pasts that couldn’t be relived or undone. Only a family who finally learned to love again.

  Before that night, I usually cared less if I ever heard from another member of the Grayson family again. My father and Mattie suddenly became all I ever wanted. The supposed Grayson curse finally broke, and we were a family again.

 

  CHAPTER 9: A TIME TO CAST AWAY STONES, AND A TIME TO GATHER STONES TOGETHER

  My father was released from the hospital a couple days before Christmas. The doctor recommended Hospice care for him. He said it was the best and only option, but I knew what he really meant. Hospice care was the doctor’s seemingly more humane way for him to tell us my father was being sent home to die.

  Mattie and I brought my father to the old home place to live out his last days. Granny Grayson’s house was usually filled with the spirit of the holiday season. The halls were always decked, and the tree was beautifully trimmed but not that year.

  My father’s bedroom window overlooked Grayson Pier and the lake. It was perfect because it reminded our family of happier times. Perhaps it would’ve been better if he was awake. Still, we were glad he was home again and with us.

  *****

  The new year came, and nothing changed with my father’s condition. The Hospice nurse also said unconsciousness would be the last stage before death. We all knew, but wasn’t ready for it to happen.

  Then, it hit me. Why did I come back to Weatherton if he wasn’t ever going to wake up? I felt ridiculous, and my presence seemed entirely pointless to me. I sat quietly in the living room and stared outside a nearby window.

  Mattie walked in the room with her arms folded and her head dropped solemn. She appeared concerned and sat in the chair across from me. It was uncertain to me if she was offering moral support or if she was curious about the true intentions of my visit.

  “How is he?” I asked

  She hesitated for a moment but appeared to remain strong. “He‘s still the same,” she said, evidently drained.

  I tried to be optimistic, but my mind was a million miles away. “The doctor did say he had a strong spirit,” I said.

  Mattie looked at me concerned and changed the subject. “Are you alright? I know this has to be difficult for you, being here and all.”

  Unpleasantly distracted by her curiosity, I turned my attention back to the window. “You wouldn’t understand, Mattie. It’s complicated, and I don‘t even know where to begin.”

  “I believe I know why you‘re here.”

  “Okay, then why amI here?” I asked, quickly and direct.

  She scooted her seat a few inches forward and faced me. “You’re here for closure, and it‘s okay if you are. There doesn’t have to be any other reason than that.”

  Her words both gob smacked and angered me. “Maybe,” I replied defensive. “But what could you possibly know about things like this?”

  “I know more than you think. For instance, I know you resent me, because you think I

  I took your place in your father’s life.”

  That truth according to me came out, and I was far from ready for it. “Of course, you did. Didn’t you?” I asked, both honest and perplexed.

  “What do you think?”

  I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts. No matter how much I placed blame on her, I knew it was never her fault. I was desperate for answers. Aside from Vickie, she was always there for me to conveniently blame.

  “It never was anything personal against you. I’ve just needed answers and never knew where to find them.”

  “He and I never had the father-daughter relationship you think we did,” she said. “We never shared any special moments or secrets. The truth is he never knew how to be a father.”

  Wait…that was it? I can’t believe that was the answer I waited over twenty-five years to receive. Robert Grayson never knew how to be a father.

  The volatility and emotionally-stunning reason that was supposed to magically erase twenty-five years of hate and anger wasn’t there. It was as simple as night and day, void of pointless conclusions.

  I brushed off her answer and quickly changed the subject. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs and sit with him. Maybe spending some time alone with him is exactly what I need.”

  She appeared understanding. “Take all the time you need. He‘s glad you‘re back, Jacob. We both are.”

  I sheepishly smiled and excused myself upstairs to my father‘s bedroom. The room possessed a certain unnerving chill, even from the hallway. The sight of his body was still a surreal moment for me.

  “Who are you, Robert Grayson?” I asked.

  The sight of his face put me in a near-trance, as though I studied a precious relic. His eyes, his face, even his jaw line. He was without question my father, and I was his son.

  There was much more to my father than anyone ever knew. The truth was there. I obviously had to search for it on my own. I began rummaging through drawers and found nothing. Prying into my father’s personal life
wasn’t my original intent, but I was desperate.

  There was a light tapping on the bedroom door. I quickly jumped startled, frozen shocked by her presence. Mattie stood inside the doorway, looking at me as though my actions were quite extreme.

  “What are you doing?” She smirked awkward and asked confused.

  “Nothing. Just looking for something,” I replied stunned and childlike.

  Mattie shook her head, as though she understood my actions, and motioned for me to follow her. “Come with me, Jacob.”

 

  I followed Mattie downstairs to a hallway closet. She opened the closet door and removed a wooden box from the top shelf. We walked into the living room and sat on the couch together. She placed the box in my lap. I stared at it in awe, as I lightly traced the edges of the box with my fingertips. There was one word engraved on the lid. JACOB.

  “What’s this?” I asked perplexed.

  “Right before Thanksgiving when his cancer worsened, your father wanted me to make sure you got this after he died. It filled with everything he wants you to know.”

  “Why are you giving this to me now?”

  “Some things don‘t need to wait, especially secrets that need to be revealed before it‘s too late” she said.

  Mattie left me alone with the box. I carefully loosened the front latch and opened the lid. It contained everything I’d ever written or accomplished in my younger years. I was pleasantly surprised. He saved everything.

  A leather-bound book laid underneath a pile of important papers and newspaper clippings. PROPERTY OF ROBERT GRAYSON, was written in black ink on the inside cover. Each page appeared yellowed, crinkled with age and filled with personal thoughts and feelings.

  It was my father’s diary. At first, I hesitated opening it. Some things were best left in the past. I wasn‘t sure if I could handle the truth. Still, I had to know.

  I turned on the nearest lamp, open the age-creased cover, and read the first tear-stained page.

  CHAPTER 10: A TIME TO KEEP SILENCE, AND A TIME TO SPEAK

  AUGUST 24, 1975

  Dear Diary,

  Today at ten-thirty this morning, Anna and I became the proud parents of a healthy baby boy who weighs eight pounds and four ounces. We named him Jacob after my father. He’s my first-born child, and I couldn’t be happier.

  When I first learned I was going to be a father, I spent the last nine months in anxious dread. Now that I’m a father, many things run through my mind. What if I screw up? Or worse, what if I do something that may scar him for the rest of his life?

  I wanted to turn back time, as I second-guessed myself for the fortieth time today. Then, his little hand wrapped around my finger. He cooed and slept in my arms. It was then I realized I’ve never wanted anything more.

  I’ll teach him to ride a bike, teach him to swim in the lake and fish off Grayson Pier. Most of all, I’ll teach him how to be a good man. He’s got so much to learn.

  I’m prepared for the challenge. And there’s a reason. This is my son, and I’ll love him forever and a day.

  Signed, The Luckiest Dad in the World

  *****

  October 22, 1982

  Dear Diary,

  No matter how I write this, my words justify nothing. I can’t help but wonder how Anna and our precious little boy are doing since I left them a little over a year ago.

  Vickie and I tried hard to put our mistakes behind us and start a new life. We assumed moving to Chattanooga, Tennessee would be a new beginning for us and Vickie‘s little girl, but it wasn’t. In fact, it was the worst things we could’ve ever done.

  We had to leave town for another reason. I learned from a reliable source Ronnie found out about Vickie and I, and threatened to kill us both. Vickie left Ronnie the same time I left Anna, which caused Ronnie to almost lose his mind.

  Our affair was, as Mother called it, The Grayson Family’s “dirty little secret.” Yeah, right. She acted as though our family never did anything wrong, especially her. If my big sister Kathy was alive, she could tell some stories about Mother and the precious Grayson clan.

  I arrived home from work a couple weeks ago and found Vickie laying face-down in a pool of her own blood. Thank God Mattie stayed with Granny Grayson at the time.

  The coroner arrived and placed Vickie in a body bag, but I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t think of anything at that moment. My grief was too intense for me to call anyone when it happened. Vickie had no other family, except Mattie.

  I called Mother. As usual, everything’s my fault. She told me I’m a disgrace to the Grayson name. When I told her Ronnie might’ve killed Vickie, she denied the whole thing. Her “precious little boy” wouldn’t do such a thing, but if he did she told me she wouldn‘t blame him.

  God, I wish Dad was still alive. He always knew how to take care of everything and deal with her. When he died, Mother laid everything on my shoulders. Now, I’m the black sheep of the family. Thank God my role as the family’s surrogate patriarch is over.

  Ronnie did it. I know he did but nothing could be proven. Everything was swept under the rug, and I’m certain the sheriff made sure of that.

  Mother made sure Ronnie was never tried for Vickie’s murder. The sheriff was up for re-election, and news of his extramarital flings would ruin his chances. That was Mother’s get-out-of-jail guarantee for her precious Ronnie.

  I have no family now, except for Granny Grayson. She’s agreed to care for Mattie while I got everything in order. Vickie’s shooting was shocking, but nothing compared to what startling revelation came next.

  With Vickie dead now, Mattie had to legally go back to her birth father. It would’ve been right for me to give Mattie back to Ronnie. I should’ve but I didn’t, and there was a reason.

  While going through Vickie’s personal papers a couple days after her death, I discovered a sealed white envelope. I carefully opened it and unfolded its contents. It contained Mattie’s birth certificate. Vickie’s the mother, but Ronnie’s not the father. Mattie’s real father is me.

  I vow to never say anything. The family’s already going through too much without me adding more fuel to the fire. Granny Grayson will make a better guardian to that sweet little girl than I ever will.

  My next move is to Atlanta, Georgia. No one knows me, and there’s so many wonderful opportunities awaiting me. In lieu of everything going on, I’d gladly trade painful memories for new beginnings any day.

  My only concern right now is what my precious little boy thinks of me. My only hope is he’ll eventually forgive me and I hope he still loves me. As usual, only time will tell.

  Signed, A Prodigal Father

  *****

  OCTOBER 20, 2006

  Dear Diary,

  This will be my last entry. My cancer’s gotten worse and has moved into its final stage. The doctor doesn’t expect me to live until Christmas, and says I‘ll eventually slip into a coma and never wake up.

  When I tell people my illness is just one of those things, they look at me as though I’m in denial. I’m not in denial. I just choose not to sit and count down the days until I die.

  Jacob and I haven’t spoken since Granny Grayson’s funeral. It was evident by our last visit he doesn’t want me in his life. Why should he, especially since I’ve given him every reason to reject me? He may choose to not think about me anymore, but there‘s not a day goes by I don‘t think about him.

  I wish I could redo the last twenty-five years. Vickie wasn’t worth leaving my family for, and both Anna and Ronnie would still be alive if it wasn‘t for my stupid mistakes. The only good thing that came from that awful time in my life was Mattie.

  Mother died five years after I left for Atlanta. You’re probably wondering what happened to her. Let’s just say unexpected deaths are worse than natural causes. For example, angering a devoted housewife who knows how to use a gun. Enough said.

  When Mother died, people told me she was rejoicing with the angels. That s
elf-righteous bullshit was far from the truth. One jilted housewife stood to her feet during her memorial service and asked aloud, “Why mourn for the devil?”

  Her grave was even a sad sight. No flowers was present on her tombstone, not even the slightest sign of condolence. It had the reputation of being the only grave in the entire cemetery without a visitor.

  Early this morning when the sun rose, Mattie drove me to the cemetery to visit Mother’s grave. I hadn’t been there since we buried her. Health-wise, it’s a bad morning for me, but my reason for going outweighed everything else.

  I knelt in front of her lonely grave and poured my heart out. A number of strong emotions I thought died years ago poured out of me. My knees buckled weak, and I wept like a small child.

  My tears moistened the dried sod under me. They were far from ordinary, representing all the pain and hate I held on to for many years. This morning, Mother’s curse broke and those same tears were laid to rest along with her.

  It would’ve been easy for me to allow the past stay buried with Mother, but nothing matters anymore when you’re facing death. Not the pain or anger, and especially not the hate. Why spend my last days on earth hating? I want them to be filled with love, good memories, and the best times of my life.