Fall From Grace(55)

I peeked out the front door to see how much snow fell.  The sidewalk was already shoveled, the streets were plowed and a light feathery snow was gently falling.  I grabbed the mail and decided instead of running that I’d just make coffee and curl up and play my guitar.  Then I would tackle my laundry.

I threw the mail on the kitchen table, barely noticing the one piece of mail addressed to me.  Maybe, the size of the envelope was what made me look twice at it. It wasn’t normal size; a bit larger and thicker than the rest.  It might have been the color, a creamy peach that struck a chord with me.  Whichever, I picked it up and walked into my room.  I stuck my head in to check on Shane; he was still out cold.

Sitting down on my bed, I glanced quickly at the return address on the letter.  It was from the hospice.  I ripped open the envelope and unfolded a handwritten letter.  Another smaller envelop slid out and fell to the floor.  Bending down, I picked up the fallen envelope and read the name on the front; Gracie.  It was in Jacob’s handwriting.

My knees buckled and I sat heavily on the floor, leaning against my bed.  I read the unfolded letter first. I think that’s what I was meant for me to do, since the other letter was still sealed.  It was from one of Jake’s doctors, Doctor Slaterman, whom Jacob seemed to grow very fond of while staying at the hospice.

Dear Grace,

I never got to give my condolences to you before you left.  First and foremost, I wanted to write that we held a small memorial for your brother, recalling how full of love and life he was, and how amazing he was with all the other patients.  What started out as a small gathering in the common room turned into a significant event.  I know that Jacob did not want a funeral or wake for his passing, but I felt we needed to celebrate Jacob, the patient we had for the longest period, who fought the hardest against his disease.

Before Jacob passed, he spoke privately with me, asking me to give you the letter from him that I have enclosed.

I hope all is well with you, Grace.  The patients and staff here miss your nightly musical tributes for your brother. Our halls have never been more silent.

Best Regards,

Martin Slaterman, MD.

Cradling Jacob’s letter in my arms I promised myself that I would record a few pieces of music on a CD for the patients there.  Looking down again at Jake’s handwriting, I traced the letters with my fingers.

As I opened it, tears spilled from my eyes.  How death takes everyone away, leaving me here, knowing where everyone goes, and knowing I would never be welcomed there; this is hell.

Gracie,

So, I guess I’m a goner.  I wish I could have stayed with you longer, but I couldn’t fight anymore, and for that, I am sorry.

I want you to know that because of you, I was not scared.  I knew that there was a heaven and that I will make it my mission to get you there one day too.

After your accident, when we lost Mom and Dad and I almost lost you, I really thought you were crazy. I thought that you had major brain damage from the accident, but your doctors assured me that your head was the only thing that was not injured.  It took me months, maybe years to see finally that my little sister did really die with my parents in that accident and your soul stayed.  But Gracie, I’m happy that you were here and I was honored with the chance to have you in my life, because without you, I would have died with my diagnoses.  You showed me what faith and what love was and if I can do anything where I am now to help you end your punishment, I will.

I love you, Gracie.  I promise you that I will see you again one day.

Jake