Free The Death of Me by Yolanda Olson Page A

my stomach.
    I took a deep breath and picked up the second envelope. I smiled as tears brimmed in my eyes. I'd know Grandpa's writing anywhere, the way he wrote the Z in my name was artistic and always stood out to me. I pulled the letter out of the envelope, cleared my throat, and blinked back the tears as I read his letter to me. The way he addressed me in the letter made me laugh softly; he almost always called me Zaydee Gray because of my eyes. No one in my family had eyes the color that I did. 
    Zaydee Gray,
    You're reading this because I'm gone now.
    I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was sick; I didn't want you to worry about me. You always worried too much, even when you were a little girl. Rita took good care of me and so did Greta, but there's something that's been weighing on me heavily. Something I know I should have told you when it happened.
    Your son Scott; I and Greta adopted him and gave him to Bill and Rose to raise. I felt it was best to keep him in the family. We all did our best and hope that when you meet him, you'll be as proud of him as I was.
    All My Love,
    Frances Lettsworth
    "Thanks Grandpa," I whispered, putting his note down on top of Grandma's and his envelope to the other side. I sighed and looked down at where he was resting beneath me, a sad smile curving the edges of my lips again. I never did meet a man as great as my grandfather, and I was sure I never would.
    I was okay with that. Some people in this world weren't meant for happiness and true love and I didn't mind being one of them.
    I took a deep breath and raised my face to the warm sun for a moment. I felt like he was there with me. Standing over me as I read these letters, to make sure that I was okay. With a sniffle, I moved onto the next envelope, only this one didn't house a letter or a note; inside of this one were pictures.
    Pictures of a newborn in my grandfather's arms, being held in the hospital nursery. Pictures of an infant learning to stand with a big smile on his face. The more the pictures progressed in age, the more I saw that he looked like Garrett. However, when I started to get to what I assumed to be Scott's teenage years, the more his expression started to look like mine. Stoic, unhappy, and distant.
    "It'll be okay," I said softly to the last picture of my son. "It always turns out okay in the end."
    I set his pictures down on top of Grandma and Grandpa's letters and looked at the last envelope that was sitting on the grass. I didn't recognize the handwriting or the sentiment scrawled across the front. It wasn't something I had been given the chance to do and I still wasn't sure that I deserved the title. But there it was; the one word that would always remind me of how deeply scars truly run.
    Mom
    My lower lip trembled and my hands began to shake. Did I really want to read this? Did he really think of me as his mother even though he had never met me and I never had a chance to hold him?
    I closed my eyes for a moment and blindly reached for the letter. It was amazing how something as light as a piece of paper could feel like the heaviest stone in the world. Like an anchor that was slowly dragging my heart down to the depths of the ocean, threatening to crush me with the pressure of all of my past misdeeds.
    Don't be a pussy; open the letter, Zaydee.
    I ripped the back of the sealed envelope away and opened the letter. There it was again; the first word in the letter was addressed to Mom.
    Mom,
    Gramps told me everything. He told me how sad you were that you weren't able to keep me and how alone you felt when Dad turned his back on you. I can forgive you for not physically being in my life because you didn't have a choice. What I can't forgive you for is never picking up the phone and calling me. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to hear your voice when I felt like everything was crumbling around me. I can't tell you how hard it is knowing what I'm going to do and never knowing if you honestly loved