Letter From The Gravebyradk©
Thanks to jo for another amazing editing job.
Remember, this is a piece of fiction from my warped mind. Enjoy!
Copyright 2011 by the author.
I've put this off long enough. Everything else is done, all the paperwork is in order, everybody knows what I want and what they're supposed to do, even who gets all my stuff - this is the last thing on the list. All I've got to do is sit down and write one final letter to Jon, it should be easy, but it won't be. I know exactly what I want to say. It's just that when I finish this all I have left to do is die.
My dearest Jon,
I'm writing this letter in my last days and made arrangements to have it delivered to you three weeks after I've gone. I figure that should be enough time for the pain of my funeral to have subsided somewhat. At least there shouldn't be any leftovers in the refrigerator any more. Everything is ready for my departure. (God, I sound like I'm preparing for a trip to Disney World.) All of my affairs are in order. I said my goodbyes to friends at work, church, family and so on. I returned all the books to the library and got your suit back from the cleaners. I sent a thank you letter to Doctor Moore and his staff. I even gave that cantankerous old curmudgeon across the street a piece of my mind – finally! But I've left the most difficult task for last, saying goodbye to you.
My funeral. Now there's something I never wanted to think about. But I have to accept the inevitable; I can't change what's going to happen. I've made all the arrangements, all I have to do now is wait for the cancer to do its thing and finish eating away at my insides. Susan and I finalized everything last week. Going to the funeral parlor to arrange for my cremation was surreal to say the least. They're going to take my body and put it in an oven and the only thing that will come out is a pot full of ashes. I had such a pretty body at one time; not so much now. And that money-hungry bastard asking for a 'down payment' of five thousand dollars made me feel like some old used car being sent to the recycling center to be made into soda cans. If I had any say in the matter I'd just stay alive to piss everybody off. Oh well, can't do anything about that now. Now where was I?
We had a good life together, you and I. Twenty three years of marriage is quite an accomplishment these days. I enjoyed our time together but right now feel a little sad that we couldn't have had twenty three more. But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.
Yeah, twenty three years of marriage, most of them good but some pretty bad ones too. I'm looking at our wedding album and see the picture showing our first kiss as husband and wife. I remember it like it happened yesterday. I cried like a baby afterwards. I loved him so much. I was so young and naïve. I thought everything was going to be like a fairytale and we would live happily ever after. I didn't think about the things that every marriage faces that make the journey like driving on a gravel road, sometimes bumpy, sometime smooth. I didn't think about all the threats we would encounter – demands from our jobs, money issues, child discipline, parents dying, other women. Hummm.
But I don't know if it's an end or a beginning. My talks with Reverend Benningfield these last few weeks have helped ease my fear of dying somewhat but I'm not sure I fully understand the concept of an afterlife. I always thought that my life began when I met you. Dying and going wherever I'm going to go without you isn't a life. I don't want to be without you. I've loved you since the day we met. I always will no matter where I am.
There, I said it. "I love you Jon." I've loved him for almost all of our twenty three years now. I've loved him through the good times and the bad; in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, up until the time I found out about Claire. He broke my heart that lousy bastard. But I can't let that out in the letter. I've got to keep it together and say sweet, loving things, no matter how angry I feel.
I don't want this letter to sound morose, I want to say goodbye to the man that I married and this is the only way I can without crying. Well, actually I am crying right now but I'll be done by the time you get this.
Yeah, by the time he gets this he will probably be looking around for my replacement.
I know how much he hated cooking and cleaning and doing all that domestic shit that I did for him all our years together. A live-in maid that shares his bed will be hard to find. For the last few years that's all I was to him, a maid that fucks. Well, now that's all over. Until he finds the next Mrs. Sheppard he's going to have to eat at McDonalds, push the trash in the corner with a broom, (someone should tell him that a broom is that long thing with a handle on one end and bristles on the other in the pantry closet), and jerk off in the shower. Good luck with that.
Remind Susan that I've loved her with all my heart and always will. She's been a good daughter even if she did raise a bit of hell after high school. She will become a good mother and a good friend now that she's got kids of her own. Ask her to come by occasionally and look in on you. Maybe she can make you my Sunday Afternoon Pot Roast: I gave her mother's secret recipe so she can make it once in a while to remind you of me.
Christ, don't get me started on Susan. A single twenty one year old woman with two kids by two different men by the time she was nineteen isn't my picture of an ideal daughter. I always dreamt of watching her walk down the aisle of St. Matthew's wearing a beautiful sparkling white gown with a long flowing train following along behind. I always dreamt of being in the audience as she received her college degree, Summa Cum Laude of course, and going off to work for some big company afterwards. I always dreamt of going to the hospital and seeing my first grandchild through the nursery window and pointing and saying "that's my grandbaby." I never dreamt about her coming home with her belly sticking out past her boobs and saying that Leroy kicked her out of his trailer and went back to his wife and kids. I never dreamt of passing up our Bahamas cruise so we could pay for the delivery of her bastard son. I never dreamt of her coming back six months later all boozed up with another one in her belly. It truly disgusts me to think of all the things we gave her. And our reward for years of sacrifice was seeing her shit on everything we did and spread her legs for every man in town.
Even the card I gave her with mom's pot roast recipe is nothing more than a coaster on the table under her bottle of vodka.
Jon, I know I made mistakes and I'm so sorry for what I did. I know that I'm guilty of nagging you and I'm ashamed now that I think about it. I didn't mean to belittle you. I always believed that you had so much to give. I saw how unhappy you were at work and believed if you worked hard then the promotions would come moving you up to the place where you belonged, and then you would come home happy. I was wrong in pushing you for something you didn't want. I didn't understand. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. I'm also ashamed of myself for ignoring your interests and hobbies. If I had only gone with you bowling or to the baseball games then maybe we would have had more to talk about at home.
Yeah, if I had know that all he wanted out of life was to sit on his fat ass in his little cubicle and push papers all around then I would have thought twice about marrying him. He has a degree in Electrical Engineering for Christ's sake. How can he waste a degree in Electrical Engineering by sitting around and processing health care forms for a bunch of freeloaders and losers? Sure I pushed and nagged because I knew that he was a lot smarter than those jerks he called bosses and a little pushing and nagging was what he needed. He could have been the CEO of that company or at least one of their top managers. But no, he didn't want that. He didn't want to join the country club. He didn't want to rub elbows with town elite. He wanted to work his lousy nine-to-five job and go bowling on Friday nights. I hate bowling! Shit!!!
I know that most of the time I wasn't as adventurous in the bedroom as you, but I tried. Believe me, I did try but just couldn't do most of the things you wanted. My body couldn't bend in those ways. But I never denied you anything and tried everything at least once. I hope that you remember the beautiful times we made love and not the times we argued. When we made love it was glorious and I will think about those times for the rest of my life.
Making love? In the entire time we've been together we 'made love' maybe a dozen times. Most of the time he would stick his lame excuse for a dick in me and bounce up and down until he shot his wad, then roll off and go to sleep leaving me to masturbate under the covers as he snored. Yeah, real smooth lover. The times that he wanted to get 'adventurous' meant that I was going to be sore as hell or degraded in some way. And what's the fascination with my ass hole? For the longest time all he wanted to do was get on my back and ride me like a corpse. It really turned him on to cum in my ass, I never came that way but he did all the time. And he didn't have to clean up the mess afterwards. Sometimes I had blood coming from my ass but most of the time I just felt his cum dribbling out as I tried to shit. That was one of the most disgusting reminders of his so called adventures. I tried most of those other things he wanted to do but absolutely refused some of his shit. I thought it was degrading when he came on my face or had me lick his ass hole or had me talk about sucking other men's cocks and licking other women's pussies while he pounded me from behind, but I did it because it made him happy. I absolutely drew the line when he suggested that we get another woman to share our bed. He said he wanted to watch us together but I really think he wanted my permission to fuck another woman in our bed while I was there. I remember that argument, it was the worst one we ever had. Sex with him was mediocre at best. I never equated our love with sex, too depressing.
I admit that I made mistakes in our marriage, too many to mention here in this letter, but you will have to admit that you made a few too. I knew about Claire Barber almost from the time you two started. I know that you thought I never knew but I did. When I found out I was broken hearted. I was afraid of losing you. I was afraid of what our friends and family would say. I desperately wanted to stay married. So I didn't do anything but go to bed and cry, a lot. I never told anybody about you two, I just kept it to myself. It just about ruined our marriage. I don't know if there were other women before her but she is the only one I knew about for sure. I guess you must have taken up with her because there was something lacking in me, something that I just didn't do that you needed. I'm sorry that I was such a poor wife. I did try. I did try to give you everything that you wanted both in the bedroom and the kitchen but I wasn't good enough. I'm very sorry that I wasn't the wife that you wanted. Now that I'm this close to my end I can't find it in my heart to hate you for what you did, so I choose to forgive you. For cheating on me, I forgive you.
That bastard broke my heart. From the instant I saw him fucking that slut in our back yard any love that I ever had for him went out of me, forever. I was a blank slate. Pretty quickly I figured out that I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me, to get back at him for taking up with that slut, to make him pay for throwing away twenty years of marriage. I thought about going out and finding someone to fuck and telling him about it afterwards, but I just couldn't do it. Besides, who wanted to bed an overweight forty-five year old mother with sagging tits and a fat drooping ass? Yeah, that would have been pretty. I thought about telling her husband that the his wife was fucking another man in his bed whenever he was out of town but couldn't find it in me to hurt him; he was such a nice guy. No I decided to bide my time and when the time was right get my pound of flesh. I think the time has come.
What I can't forgive is what you did to Claire to end your little affair. I was there. I saw it. I was too afraid to go to anybody or say anything so you got away with it. I know the police and everybody looked all over for her when she went missing last summer but they never found her. They even dragged the pond in the park. She just disappeared. But I know what happened to her. I saw what you did. I had just come up on the porch and looked in the front window when I saw you hit her on the back of the head with that autographed Mickey Mantle baseball bat that you kept in the living room. I saw her fall and you hit her on the head a couple more times. I saw you wrap up her limp body in mother's old Oriental rug and drag her out behind the shed at the back of the garden. I saw you bury her next to the little apple tree. You didn't know that I was there but I saw the whole thing. I was afraid that you would do to me what you did to her, that's why I never said anything. I lived in fear of you ever since then but not any more. You can't do anything to me that the cancer isn't already doing. I'll be dead soon. It's a strange thing the way I feel. I have always loved you but you did something so horrendous that I lost everything that summer night. For that I can't forgive you. I don't understand how I can feel this way. I once loved you and still do in a way. I just can't forgive what you did to her.
Well that ought to get his attention. A revelation from his now dead wife that she saw him do something that he knows he didn't do. He didn't kill that bitch, I did. Everything happened exactly like I said except that I swung the bat. I used his prized possession, that stupid autographed baseball bat the he kept in the trophy case in the living room. If it was such a fucking prized possession how come he never missed it? I put an end to their affair once and for all. I finally had my revenge on her. Writing this little lie of a letter will have my revenge on him. I had to get cancer to get even with that lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch. Now all need to do is finish the letter and die.
Please forgive me for not being the woman and the wife and the lover that you wanted. I so wanted to please you but I failed. I leave the mortal world knowing that I did the best that I knew how to do. I was the best wife I knew how to be, I was the best lover I could be, and the best mother. I'm sorry that we had to part like this. I hope you think of the good times we had and not the bad times. Remember, I loved you with all my heart and soul.
Not bad, not bad at all. I think I can go now with everything wrapped up neat and tidy. I don't want to die but I feel better about it now. It's almost as though someone lifted a great weight from my shoulders. My work here on earth is complete: I'm done. According to the doctor the end should be fairly quick and painful. God how I hate pain, any pain. Good thing I've been taking my pain meds. They should take care of things until it happens. Oh shit, wait a minute, I forgot something.
P.S. I've instructed my attorney to send a copy of this letter to the police.