There’s no sense in beating around the bush.
On June 24th, she was in a car accident and died of a brain hemorrhage on the way to the hospital. The other driver was killed on impact. I think she would have liked that.
It was such an ordinary death, though – that’s the part she would have really hated.
I always thought my mom was immortal. All the stories she and James told, all the things I’ve seen her do.
You know, I once watched her approach this insanely tall man at a hotel conference centre. She used a chair to jump onto his back and then stabbed him in the eye with one of those fancy two-pronged forks. The man screamed and flailed but she held on and at one point, he ran into a wall and she used the momentum to throw his head against it. I could hear the crack of his skull from across the room. And as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, she hopped off and landed on both feet like it was nothing.
She was the coolest person I’ve ever met.
I knew that she would die one day (hopefully in a senior’s centre where she smothers the patients and cuts their IVs and no one really notices because they’re so old). But for a woman like her, it should have been an extraordinary death. Chasing a victim who fights back and manages to stab her in the leg and as she’s bleeding out from her femoral artery, she throws the knife previously imbedded in her thigh and it hits them in the back of the neck, severing their spinal cord. And as she collapses to the ground, she uses her body weight to smother her victim because she may be dying, but she will never let them live.
That’s the kind of death that my mother deserved. Instead, it was just some random accident. I asked the investigator and he showed me all the evidence they have that it was faulty wiring in the traffic light that made the intersection show two green lights. There’s no one to blame, no revenge to get. I don’t know what to do with myself.
The police called James to inform him that his wife had died and now I’m living with him back at our old place. It’s so weird to call him James but I know she used fake names for everyone so I’m going to stick with it. My name’s not really Casey. I wonder why she chose it.
I thought James might be living with someone else but the house is exactly as we left it. All of her stuff was in the drawers and on the walls and no trace of anyone else. There was even a carton of her favourite creamer in the fridge – the kind I know only she drank – like he was always waiting for her to come back.
Like he thought they would get a second chance.
I told Ben before I left. He came by the motel looking for her and when I told him, he looked so sad. I think he really liked her. Don’t tell him, but I was going to kill him if they lasted longer than six months. She couldn’t see it, but Mom and James were supposed to be together forever and that couldn’t happen with somebody like Ben around. He was nice and he gave me a book on ancient weapons that he stole from the library but he wasn’t what this family needed.
Now it’s just me and James and we’ll never know if our family could get back together.
That woman walked through fire for me. She was the best mother I ever had. The only one I never wanted to kill.
I was cleaning out her laptop in case the feds ever raided and I found this hidden program and this blog. I asked James and he said that this place was her constant companion. He never read it but she told this little corner of the world all her secrets. I’ve only looked through a few years’ worth but there’s already so much that I didn’t know.
I never knew Jason killed Andrew – that was a shocker – or how much she cared for Charlotte before it all went to hell. And the thing with the motorcycle gang? Oh my god. It’s like my mom had a whole other life before me.
I mean, I knew that logically but to actually see it? I thought I knew everything about her but I only knew a slice of the amazing person she was. Honestly, I think you all knew her better than anyone.
It might be dangerous to keep you around now that she’s gone but I don’t want to let you go. If I have any technical trouble, I can always call Aunt Meg – if I can find her emergency number.
I don’t think she knows yet. Someone has to tell her.
In the meantime, I’m going to keep updating this blog. I don’t know if it’ll be as good as hers but I feel like I need a project and a way to feel close to her so why not kill two birds with one stone: my specialty.
I think she would have liked that joke.
My condolences, dear readers.
