Message #1
The garage hadn't been cleaned since Charlie had last immersed himself in P vs NP, that awful day when Don was shot during a bank robbery. In the years since then, the garage had gradually been filled with all sorts of things. Now that school was out, Charlie decided to tackle the daunting task of bringing some order to the chaos of his favorite work space.
He was halfway through the sorting phase, with books, toys, clothes, memorabilia and just plain junk arranged in somewhat organized piles, when Don entered the garage. "I didn't hear anything about an earthquake in Pasadena today, Chuck. What's up?"
"Things were a little slow, so I decided to straighten up a bit." He grinned wryly as he looked at the piles. "What's that old cliché? 'It's always darkest before the dawn?'"
Don didn't answer. He had picked up a hardcover book and was biting his lower lip as he ran his fingers over the cover.
"Don? What's wrong? Hey, if that's your book, you're welcome to take it."
Don shook his head. "It's Mom's." He touched a bookmark about halfway through the book. "She was reading it when ... when..."
Charlie crossed to Don's side and touched the book reverently. "This was the last book she read? And she never got to finish it," he blinked back tears.
Don opened the book and fanned the pages. He stopped when he reached the place where Margaret had placed her bookmark. "What's this?" he murmured as he pulled three sealed envelopes from the book. He turned the envelopes over and gasped as he saw his mother's cursive on each envelope. "They're addressed to us. One for you, one for Dad and one for me." He picked up a scrap of paper from Charlie's desk and used it to mark Margaret's place, then he handed an envelope to Charlie. "Is Dad home?"
Charlie took the envelope and shook his head. "He and Stan went someplace. Should we wait?"
Don slid his pinky finger under the flap of his envelope. "You can. I want to see Mom's message."
He pulled out the single sheet of flowered stationery. "I bought her this stationery for Mother's Day," he whispered as he opened the sheet. He shoved a stack of folders aside and sank into the cushions of the worn couch. He could no longer trust himself to speak.
"Dearest Donnie, I know you go by Don now, but you'll always be my little Donnie. Words can't describe how proud I am of you, son. Even though your father and I weren't originally thrilled by your career choice, I'm glad you found your mission in life. You are a terrific FBI agent. Your father and I didn't always do right by you, but you never complained, and you turned out to be a wonderful man in spite of our mistakes. Please forgive me, and take care of your father and brother. Love, always, Mom."
Don folded the sheet, put it back in the envelope and tucked the envelope into his shirt pocket. He let the tears flow freely for a long moment, and then wiped his face. When he could trust his voice again, he looked at Charlie. "What's your message say?"
Message #2
Charlie wondered what Don's message had said, but he knew that if his brother had wanted to share Mom's message, he would have. He hesitated, wondering if he should wait for Dad to return, but then he finally gave in and tore the envelope open.
The stationery was different from Don's. Charlie recognized it as a sheet he had printed for his mom back in high school. Her name and address were centered at the top of the page, and there were ghostly images of mathematical signs and Greek letters scattered around the sheet. It had been printed with a program he had created himself while he was experimenting with machine language. He smiled sadly as he held up the sheet for Don to see.
Don chuckled. "She saved it, huh?"
"Yeah," Charlie said, blinking to clear his eyes so he could read. His voice shook. "'Dearest Charlie, I wish I didn't have to write this to you. I know my illness and impending death have been very hard on you. Now that I'm gone, I'm sure you're blaming yourself for spending the past few months in the garage. I'm willing to bet you don't even understand why you did it. But, using that very special ESP that God has given to mothers, I understand. Sweetie,'" Charlie choked back a sob and took a few deep breaths before he continued, "'life is not as easily controlled or understood as your math. But now that I'm gone, your father and brother will need you. And you need them. Don't run away from them, son. Together you can do this! Love, Mom.'"
Charlie buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
Message #3
Alan found his two sons in the garage, surrounded by piles of books, clothes, papers, toys, and God only knows what else. Apparently his younger son had decided to finally do something about the accumulation of junk.
Charlie looked up, his eyes red and puffy. "Hey, Dad," he said.
"Charlie! What's wrong? Don?" Alan was stunned as Don turned to face him, face red and puffy as well. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
Don sniffed. "It's not as bad as it looks. Charlie's cleaning the garage.."
Impatient, Alan said, "Cleaning does not normally bring you to tears, Donnie."
Don stood and picked up the book. "We found this," he handed Margaret's book to Alan. "She left notes for each of us. Here's yours."
Alan took the envelope in trembling hands. His head spun, and he felt as if he were going to pass out. He felt Don's hand on his elbow, guiding him to sit on the couch. "Thank you," he murmured as he gazed at the envelope. He wanted to open it. But he knew that once he did, once he read his beloved wife's message, that there would be no more. This was the last he would ever hear from her. He tucked the envelope into his pocket and forced himself to meet his sons' gazes. "I think I'll wait," he said.
Don nodded and walked into the house. Charlie looked helplessly at the chaos he had created in the garage, stood and followed Don.
When they were gone, Alan took the envelope back out of his pocket. "Margaret," he said, "I love you." He carefully opened the envelope and took out the sheet of paper. "Alan," she had written, "It wasn't supposed to be this way. But we don't get to make the rules. I love you with all my heart, and I hope there's an afterlife where we'll meet again. But if not, I've had enough love from you and our boys to last me an eternity. We have raised two wonderful sons, Alan, and they will see you through this. Watch them closely and you'll see a little bit of me, just as I've seen a little bit of you all these years. And when you're sad, remember that we've had what a lot of people in this world never get – we each found the one person in the world who was absolutely perfect for us, and we had a good many years together. Remember and be happy, my love."