Free The Death of Me by Yolanda Olson

thud of a glass being set on the wooden desk behind me got my attention. I turned slightly and saw that Bill had set down two square glasses and was currently filling them halfway with Scotch Whiskey.
    "He was a great kid," he said, coming over and handing me one of the glasses. He took a drink of his as he looked at the pictures mounted on the wall. "He may have looked like you, but he was just like Zaydee. He loved Frances most of all and that tire swing out in the front yard," he said with a sigh.
    "Was? Isn't he still?" I asked, in confusion.
    Bill chuckled softly. "Scott was a manic depressive like Zaydee. It's hereditary, you know? Getting him to take his medication was always a hellacious fight. Garrett, I think it would be best if you took a seat."
    I gave him a sidelong glance. Something about the way he said that told me that the rest of this visit wasn't going to be what I was expecting. I went over to the small leather two seated couch and sat down. I leaned forward and held my glass of liquor tightly in my hands waiting for him to speak. Bill lingered in front of the pictures for a moment longer before he went and sat down in the recliner almost directly across from me.
    "Did Zaydee take it hard when Frances died?" Bill asked curiously.
    "I couldn't tell you, honestly. She moved to Florida a long time ago and I didn't really see her until she came back for the services. I'm sure it hurt her, but she played the part of the rock for her family," I replied thoughtfully.
    "Scott begged us to take him to see Frances when we found out he was terminal. It took me a little while to scrape the money together, but we got him out there. I thought it would have been good for him, you know? To be able to see the man that he loved the most one more time before he died," Bill said shaking his head.
    "Bill. I'm starting to get a little worried here," I said, rubbing my forehead. "Where exactly is my son?"
    He got to his feet and retrieved the bottle, topped off his glass, then came over and topped off mine. He sat down again with a heavy sigh and looked at me before he nodded.
    "Rose! Can you bring Scott in please?" he called out.
    I drank down the rest of the glass in one gulp and got to my feet. I faced the door waiting for Rose to walk in Scott, but I wasn't expecting her to walk in with him like this. I wavered on my feet slightly and landed on my ass in the chair. The glass fell from my hand and bounced on the carpeted floor as Rose came over and handed what looked like a small, decorative vase to me.
    "I'm so sorry," she said quietly as she handed it to me. "He couldn't take it when he finally realized that Frances was going to die. When we got back, he went into his bedroom and hung himself."

Seventeen
    Zaydee
    I t was late Monday morning and I was sitting on the freshly restored green grass at Saint Raphael’s Cemetery. Grandpa didn’t have a headstone yet, but I managed to find him again after some driving around.
    I figured by this point Garrett was most likely sitting around with Scott, so I wanted to be near someone I loved too.
    I had my legs crossed underneath me and the envelopes that Grandma had given me sitting on my lap. I still hadn’t opened them and even though she told me to wait until I got back home to read them, I wanted to read them with my grandfather nearby. Something told me that I might need his strength and this was the closest I could get to feeling it anymore.
    “How’s it going, Grandpa?” I asked softly.
    The first envelope held a short note from Grandma.
    Dearest Zaydee,
    What you are going to discover in these letters may be difficult for you, but I know that you are strong enough to cope with it. Please know that I'm here for you if you need me.
    Love,
    Grandma Greta
    I pursed my lips as I set the note down on one side of me and the envelope on the other. I didn't know what secrets the other envelopes held, but I was going to read them, no matter how bad the feeling was in the pit of