Tragic Miracle
Skye Quartermaine stood in the mansion that had been part of her life for the last fifteen years. It had only been twelve hours since she had been told the words she had never hoped to hear.
"She's gone, Skye."
The "she" that was gone was Skye's twelve year old daughter, Mary. And here Skye stood, twelve hours later, with a note in her hand labeled "mom". Skye couldn't bring herself to open it. If she did, it would mean that Mary was really gone. No. Not now, not ever. She couldn't open it.
"Oh, what's the use? She's gone, and no one's gonna bring her back." But Skye had to do it. She had to. Not because she wanted to, but because she wanted to see what Mary was thinking right before she...
Instead of continuing, Skye began:
Dear Mom,
I couldn't do this with you and dad here because I knew you would never let me say good bye. Mom, I love you. I love you. That's the only thing I've thought about since I knew I was going to have to do this. And while the rest of the family has been great, you and dad have been the best. Please don't blame yourself. I'm not gonna lie and say I was never angry or upset with you. But no matter how bad things like that got, I'd never want you to blame yourself for a force of nature. I'm sorry this has to be so short, but I have to write to daddy now. I love you. No matter how bad things get, please lean on the family (no matter how dysfunctional they get!).
Love, Mary
At this, Skye was drowned in her tears. The fresh pain of Mary's death returned. It hurt. It hurt so badly. Skye was a recovering alcoholic. Because of her drinking problem, and the fact that Skye and Mary's father, Jax, had divorced when Mary was only six months old, Mary had spent most of her life with Jax. Jax had been the real parent. Skye had just been a figure in her daughter's life. But now, she would never get a chance. Never.
Skye Quartermaine stood in the mansion that had been part of her life for the last fifteen years. It had only been twelve hours since she had been told the words she had never hoped to hear.
"She's gone, Skye."
The "she" that was gone was Skye's twelve year old daughter, Mary. And here Skye stood, twelve hours later, with a note in her hand labeled "mom". Skye couldn't bring herself to open it. If she did, it would mean that Mary was really gone. No. Not now, not ever. She couldn't open it.
"Oh, what's the use? She's gone, and no one's gonna bring her back." But Skye had to do it. She had to. Not because she wanted to, but because she wanted to see what Mary was thinking right before she...
Instead of continuing, Skye began:
Dear Mom,
I couldn't do this with you and dad here because I knew you would never let me say good bye. Mom, I love you. I love you. That's the only thing I've thought about since I knew I was going to have to do this. And while the rest of the family has been great, you and dad have been the best. Please don't blame yourself. I'm not gonna lie and say I was never angry or upset with you. But no matter how bad things like that got, I'd never want you to blame yourself for a force of nature. I'm sorry this has to be so short, but I have to write to daddy now. I love you. No matter how bad things get, please lean on the family (no matter how dysfunctional they get!).
Love, Mary
At this, Skye was drowned in her tears. The fresh pain of Mary's death returned. It hurt. It hurt so badly. Skye was a recovering alcoholic. Because of her drinking problem, and the fact that Skye and Mary's father, Jax, had divorced when Mary was only six months old, Mary had spent most of her life with Jax. Jax had been the real parent. Skye had just been a figure in her daughter's life. But now, she would never get a chance. Never.