Chapter 30
"I mean, they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time."
― Banksy
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September 24th, 2053
Dear uncle Dean:
I have been avoiding this entry for a couple months now. I did not want to write it, although I am sure you know what happened here.
Dad is no longer on this earth. He passed away on May 24, 2053. He had just turned 70 years old. He was so damn skinny, and his body was already giving us signs of its will to give up.
He called you during the nights, while mom slept on the couch of the living room. It is a long story, but dad- Sam- wanted to see your pictures, so we installed a bed there for him. I think it might have reminded him of the times the both of you stayed in motel rooms when you were young adults. Sometimes, he would talk about morning runs, coffee and salads he liked to eat at certain places, as if he were living it all over again while talking about it.
He saw the younger version of you two, forever alive in a timeless picture, as he continued to talk about the story of why he travelled in time to see the ones he loved and save the world. I didn't think that was possible, but apparently, a buddy of yours was an angel who could do it. It sounds funny to talk about angels. I have never seen one, until that day happened.
Technically, I have seen one before, but that angel did not have wings back then. Dad was always my lighthouse. He taught me so many things that a man should do. I have no words to express how thankful I am for him. For you. For John and Mary Winchester, too.
I may not know you in person, but even if it was a dysfunctional family, it still fought for the good intentions. You raised dad, but you couldn't be more different from each other. He would tell me that you were the water and he was the oil, and other times you were both one big piece that was meant to be together.
It happened two nights before he passed. Mom called me with teary eyes, saying that dad's breathing was not right. I sensed that he was going to leave me. I was going to lose my hero.
Laurel took care of the kids while I flew to Lawrence. We had one more kid last year. Dad has barely seen her, but her name is Samantha. She is a beautiful 13-month-old toddler who loves cuddles and is very shy. Just like Henry was at her age.
Camryn is the wild child of the family. The three of them remind me of the moments I lived as a happy kid with my mom and dad; the amazing little brother you have.
Mom answered every call, and I talked to dad on speaker, telling him he had to wait for me to come home. He couldn't leave just yet. I wanted to see his smile one more time. I wanted to hug my father one last time. It wasn't even a cheesy long lasting goodbye. It was a quick, yet beautiful goodbye, because I know some people do not have the chance to say it.
It happened at 11:15 PM.
Dad had been asleep for most of the day, as we waited for him to wake up, or maybe just take one last deep breath. The uncertainty of a moment like that one can break your heart. It definitely has broken mine to a million pieces.
I cannot possibly describe how hard it is to watch someone you love fade away in front of your own two eyes, but you cannot change it. You cannot make a deal to save him. The last hope is for a miracle that never shows up, even though you sense it is coming your way. He was dying, uncle Dean. I was aware of that, yet I could not stop staring at him, counting every breath, trying to remember how his belly expanded with each minute that passed by. I saw him look at the corner of the room several times. He was smiling at someone who was not physically there.
I thought I would die with him. A part of me died that day.
I saw how much he was struggling to live. Deep down, I knew he did not want to leave mom or me. He wanted to see me, but he could not do it. I could not see him suffer anymore, so I did the unthinkable. I walked towards his bed, sitting on the edge of it. I called him for what he is to me. He is not 'Sammy'. He is my dad. That is how I thought his name was like when I was young and innocent. I was stealing him from the past once more, but it was worth the effort.
I said it was okay. I whispered he could go with you. My heart did not believe any of those words. I was betraying myself, but love is greater. Sometimes, love can be defined as letting go of those who you would die for, so they have a better life.
I did not expect my words to cause any effects on him. With a groan, he looked up to me, trying to see who was sitting there with him. A tear slipped down his face, as his expression changed. I could tell he recognized me. It was a nostalgic smile. I am sure he knew what was happening.
I held his hand carefully. For an old man, he was strong but gentle at the same time. He was a tough guy, but he was so kind to everyone. That is exactly how I want to remember him for the rest of my life.
He placed his free hand on top of mine, just like when I was a little kid and dad played with me, making me fly, just to catch me in the air before I touched the ground. He always told me I was his favorite superhero.
Moments later, he allowed his body to relax, closed his eyes, and his head lolled towards the left side of the bed. I called his name, but he didn't move. He didn't answer me. He didn't call for you. I wish I could hear him talk about you forever, if it meant having him by my side right now. Love is a little selfish, too.
I promised I would write until the very end, so I am doing it. The funeral was very quiet. Mom talked about how they met, and why he was the love of her life. I could not say a word. What do you say when you want to share him with other people, but it hurts to say his name aloud at the same time?
His body was buried right next to your tombstone. Garth came with his kids, and so did Alex, Kaia and Claire. Donna passed away two years ago, but dad did not know that.
I saw a young man with light brown hair standing near the place, clearly looking at the scene. When I asked him who he was, he said his name was Jack. He said he came to pay his respects for my dad's life, but I should not worry too much about him. He said dad was fine. He was with you already. I am taking my mom to live with me next month. She has finally sold their house to move to California. She will be closer to her family now.
Despite how life ends, the journey through it is truly beautiful. At least that is my truth. Even before my existence, I am sure you and dad had the best memories together. I wish I would have known you in person. I am seeing my older kids play together as I write this last letter to you. There is nothing more to tell. I wish there was something to talk about through words that made sense for the two of us.
I am sure someday we will meet each other, and I will see dad again. This is my dad's actual legacy. He taught me how to live a happy life despite the crap that often ruins your sunny day. There is still evil things out there. There are monsters that are human, but that is taken care of by the "normal" people.
I love you, uncle Dean. Take care of dad for me, okay? Tell him he's deeply loved here. I am going to bury this journal in between you two, so it stays here. It is the greatest story never written by anyone, like dad said many years ago. The story of two brothers who gave it all, and gained a family in the process. The story of a man who was broken after losing his big brother, but met someone who helped him feel alive again. Together, they had a child and shared a happy life.
I guess this is it. Thank you for everything, uncle Dean.
Don't worry about Sam's belongings. I have some at my place and mom has donated some other clothes to the ones in need. I often wear dad's old flannels, and the smell of his body takes me back in time. I don't need angels to see him again. I sense him around every now and then. I know he is here.
Rest in peace. See you on the other side, guys.
DJ
The end?
Author's note: Hey guys! So, this is the end of the story. Hope you cry as much as I did writing it. Lol
Thank you for the constant support here. These past months have not been easy on me. Within these coming weeks, my dad will be celebrating his first year in heaven. As much as I miss him, I know I will see him again one day. It took a lot of my own personal grief to inspire this story. I am happy to see you accepted it.
Love you!
KW.-
