Moving On - Final Chapter

Thinking back over the years with Alex, it seems it always rained.  Perhaps it was simply the dark cloud that encompassed our lives.  I needed sunshine so my body and soul could be replenished.  My tears fell steady like raindrops hitting the window during an October shower.  Hiding under covers, chills traversed my bones as I wondered if the storm would ever let up.

All Alex gained from Cedar Ridge was more manipulation tactics and friends who suffered problems too.  ‘Friends’ isn’t the right word.  She had people to control and bully, using their emotional problems to her advantage.  I warned these kids about my own daughter, only to be met with blank stares.  They were blinded by Alex, craving any attention she’d give.

After graduation, she moved in with one of these friends, Chelsie.  I know I shouldn’t have, but I gave her the money to do it.  My husband would have surely left if she had stayed.  It was enough to give them a start, but not to maintain for long.

I see my grandchildren now.  Their smiles are contagious; I’ll never go without them again.  My quiet evenings are now spent watching my husband struggle over crosswords.  Time is something I have plenty of.  It’s all thanks to Alex.  After a visit to her apartment, I realized I’d no choice but to put her in God’s hands and let her go.

Arriving at her place with an armful of groceries, I forced a weary smile.

“Where’s Chelsie?”

“The bipolar schizophrenic freak’s out.”  Her laugh sent shivers through me.  “Look.  I need money.  I don’t have the rent.  A few hundred should do it.”  She demanded, not asked.

“Alex, I don’t have any more money.  Your dad wouldn’t let me even if I did.”  I began putting the groceries away, avoiding her eyes.  “Keep trying to get a job.  I know you don’t want to work, Alex, but it’s part of life.” 

“I’d rather die than work.”  Her icy voice made me look up from the refrigerator.  Alex stood with a knife at her throat.

“I can’t live like this.  You have to help me.”

Walking toward her, I asked God to save my daughter.  “Give me the knife.”

“You want the knife?”  She raised her eyebrow as if thinking it over.

“Yes, please, give it to me.”

I don’t know if she planned it, but suddenly, my blood was flowing onto her kitchen floor.  The knife she used to stab me fourteen times stuck grotesquely from my throat.

“One stab for each torturous year I spent with you, bitch.”  Those were the last words said to me from a child I loved unconditionally.

God has graced me by letting me watch my family’s lives from Heaven.  Though I’m not with them in body, it’s more time than I gave them the last fourteen years of my life.  My grandchildren look up to sky, chattering to me about their day and telling me they miss me.  I long to answer them, kiss their grimy cheeks once more.    My husband lights a candle for me each night as he prays for strength.  To him the flame symbolizes my frustration at not being able to be the light to everyone. 

Do I have regrets?  Some days, yes.  I regret that I was so caught up in giving unconditional love that I didn't allow myself to accept the love that was all around me.

Alex’s in jail.  She denies killing me.  I rarely watch her.  Giving her my life was enough.  She can’t have me in death.  It’s time for me to move on.