tw: death, talk of suicide, grief
important a/n at the end!
play the song after the journal entry.
double update, read 40 first.
July 29th, 2021.
I'm back here again. We're going to get this over with.
The universe is a real fucking bitch, yanno? I was doing good. Life was good. I was happy. I was excited for the future.
Every future. I was excited for my career, I was excited for myself, for the possibility of a love life, all of it. I finally felt like I was really getting somewhere, and then the universe just fucking side-swiped me.
I'm still pretty pissed about it. I mean, things worked out okay, but did it really have to give me such a shitty hand?
Listen, this is my journal and I will be a selfish bitch if I want to. I'm allowed to throw myself a pity party here, I'm allowed to make it about me.
It was really fucking inconvenient for me.
I was really unprepared to deal with the emotional tidal wave that entered my life with that phone call. It was like a hurricane, just destroying everything in its path and then having a moment of calm in the eye of the storm, and then wrecking my shit up again.
It's fucking exhausting, I'd just like to be able to feel real emotions again on a SANE level, why is that too much to ask?
Oh right, it's because I am my mother's daughter.
That's not funny.
Fuck, I hate this. I hate this so bad.
It wasn't fair.
-Jo.
"I'm so sorry to inform you that your mother has passed..."
Passed. Like she slipped away in her sleep. Like she died of old age. Like she just didn't wake up.
My mother didn't "pass."
My mother killed herself.
She'd been trying to for years, and she finally did it.
When I got the call I quietly excused myself from lunch and walked to the train station silently. I rode home without a tear. I made it upstairs and into the apartment, checked to see if Dante was home, and then collapsed to the floor.
I dug my fingernails into the skin of my thighs and I wailed, unable to stop myself. The emotions I was feeling caused thoughts to rapid-fire through my brain in a painful attack.
She died hating me
I left her there all alone
I didn't call her enough, I never went to see her, it's my fault she's gone
How dare she fucking do this to me
She finally got what she wanted
She could have been at peace a long time ago if it wasn't for me.
Does she feel better now?
What if that's me in 20 years?
I would make this about me, Jesus Christ I'm such a selfish bitch.
Why did I never care about her enough?
I just took off, galavanting around the world with a sick mother.
I never appreciated her enough.
I was never there for her.
She blamed me.
She hated me.
She died hating me.
I never moved that night. Eventually, the tears stopped but my body never stopped shaking, my phone went unanswered, I couldn't move.
I turned to stone again, and this was much thicker than the last time.
The next day I got up, got showered, charged my phone, and did what I had to do. I called my dad.
"Hi, honey."
"Hi, Dad."
"You comin' home?"
"Yea, I'll fly out on a red-eye tonight."
"Okay...I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry I wasn't- I should have, Ah, fuck."
"Don't do that Dad, you know there's nothing you could have done. You don't need to apologize."
"I'll pick you up in the morning, okay? Just let me know what time."
"Okay. I love you."
"I love you too."
I hung up and called the club next, told them that my mom "passed" and I needed to go home. I apologized for the short notice and told them I didn't know when I'd be back. I called every job I had set up for the next two weeks and canceled them.
I bought a one-way ticket home.
I walked out to the living room and found Dante, told him what happened, and told him I would pay my half of the rent a little extra to help out, but I didn't know when I'd be back.
He cried for me, hugged me for a long while, and then helped me pack. It didn't take long to pack up most of my closet and toiletries, I also packed a box of comforting items and scheduled it to be picked up and shipped to my dad's house.
When I was done with the busy work, I was left with nothing to do but think, and that was dangerous. I couldn't think of a single place that would feel safe for me to think. I wanted to be at the beach. I wanted to be in mine and Harry's spot. I knew I could think there.
So I grabbed my purse and my phone and I headed to the subway station that could take me to the next best thing.
That's how I ended up on a bench in Coney Island.
There was a strong breeze that day.
I used to think I'd grow up to be just like my mom. When I was young, she was everything to me. She was vibrant and stunning, she was full of life. She had so much ambition, she was everything I wanted to be.
When she lost that, when the illness took it from her, I didn't know how to relate to her anymore. She was violent, she was cruel, she wasn't herself anymore, it felt like I had lost her then.
I knew it wasn't her fault, but sometimes I didn't know how to separate her from the illness. I just didn't understand how we got here so soon.
I often wonder if I was too difficult for her. I wonder if I shattered her. If my testy attitude and pushy personality just snapped her. I know it's not true, but it doesn't stop the thoughts from coming anyway.
I wonder if subconsciously I did just dump her in that institution and run away. I remember watching her scream at my dad and thinking "Where did my mom go?" What happened to the fun we had? What happened to the family-fun days on Sundays? What happened to my family?
I stopped making her a priority at some point after that. I was exhausted and young, and in my mind, I couldn't let my life revolve around worrying about her.
Over and over it happened. She'd be okay, and then she'd be trying to slit her wrists during breakfast. My house held no warmth anymore, just fear and worry. My dad and I lived in a constant state of fear and worry, for her and ourselves.
My alarm chimed from my phone and broke my trance, telling me it was time to go back so that I could get to the airport in time.
I wondered if my dad felt this sick sense of relief too.
Daniel's POV
When I got the call yesterday I immediately called Jo. When she didn't after the fourth call, I knew that she knew. I was worried about her, but I knew she'd need a little bit of time, and she'd call me when she could.
I didn't have anyone else to talk to about it though, so I did the only thing I could think of, and went to see my dad.
I'd watched Jo sit out here and talk to him more times than I could count, and I was praying I could feel a little bit of the comfort that it gave her. I went out in my old jeans and a oil covered t-shirt and I sat my ass in the grass in front of my father's headstone.
I hung my head in my hands and asked him to forgive me for the small sense of relief that I felt, knowing she wasn't suffering anymore.
I was sure I was going to hell for it, but Lottie wanted to be at peace for a long time. She wanted out of her own mind so badly.
I spent a half hour or so out there, talking to him. Telling him all the things I was too ashamed to say out loud to anyone else, letting myself be selfish and make it about me for a few minutes.
Then I patted his headstone, thanked him for listening, and left.
I felt exhausted after talking so much, my plan was to go home and sleep it off until I left for the airport, but I didn't sleep. I couldn't really, so I just sat in the old recliner in the dark and talked to my wife.
Well, Charlotte, you finally did it.
God, I hope you're at peace. I hope you're free from the hell that your brain put you through, my love.
My head has been pounding with the same questions over and over today, things I'll never get the answers to.
Was it me? Did I trigger it?
Did I push you to the edge and you just never told me?
Is anything I've ever achieved worth anything if I'm the one who hurt you?
Did you miss us? When your illness took the woman we knew, did you miss the man you knew? Did you miss our love?
Will you ever forgive me for putting you in there?
Is it possible to get forgiveness from the grave?
Do you care anymore, or are you too wise in your eternal afterlife to care about a fool like me?
We used to be something to see, Lottie. We were the dream, the two of us and our precious girl. We were what everyone wanted to be. The suburban dream, right up until it wasn't anymore.
I'm so sorry that I let you down, Charlotte.
Jo's POV
The plane landed and I walked through the familiar airport in a daze. I had my bag, got my suitcase, and walked outside to the beginning of sunrise.
My dad was there, leaned against his truck, waiting for me. I walked to him in silence and laid my head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. He didn't say anything, I didn't cry, I just stood there and let him hold me while we took deep breaths together.
We used to breathe together like this after Mom had a bad episode.
After 10 breaths he kissed the top of my head and let me go. He loaded my bag into the bed of the truck and I hopped inside in silence. He drove just above the speed limit, but not fast enough to draw attention. It was about 45 minutes from the airport to our house, and we drove it in near silence.
"You want a coffee?" He asked.
"Sure."
We stopped and grabbed a latte at the stand by our house.
"Oh my God!! Josephine! Girl, you're like famous now! What are you doing here!? How've you been!? Well good, I'm guessing, cause you're all shacked up with a flipping celebrity, right!?" She shouted over my dad as she hung out the drive-thru window.
I didn't remember her name, but I went to high school with her. I was pretty sure she worked here in high school too.
"No, I'm not "shacked up" with a celebrity, and I'm here to bury my mother. So can we get those lattes?"
I had very little patience.
My dad just shook his head and tried not to smile while the perky blonde looked at me like I had three heads.
She passed us the coffee quickly and apologized before we drove away.
"Subtle as ever, Jo."
"It's my specialty," I said with a smirk as he parked the truck.
Two hours later I had unpacked everything and made myself comfortable in my old bedroom. I was shoving the rest of my pajamas into the small drawer when I heard the knock on the doorframe.
"She's at the Morgue if we want to go see her. We don't have to make plans today, but they'll let us see her. We could say goodbye." He sounded sad. I knew that seeing her would hurt him, she hadn't allowed him to visit her in years.
"Do you want to see her?" I asked.
"Honestly honey, I don't know. But I think so. I'd like to say goodbye."
"Okay, let's go then." I fixed the ponytail on my head and took a deep breath before following him out the door.
Our drive was silent once again as we made our way to the funeral home. I rolled the windows down a bit, let the breeze brush my face in hopes it would bring me some comfort.
It didn't.
The woman at the funeral home led us downstairs to the very cold room and made sure we were both okay before she opened the door and let us into the room where my mother laid on the table. She was covered by a sheet, like they are in the movies, just the tops of her shoulders and her head were exposed.
"I'll give you two some time." The nice-looking lady said before she left.
I nodded and walked to the table. I stood on the right side of her and felt the tears flood my eyes.
I looked down at her, and I said my goodbye in my head, there was no point in speaking it out loud.
I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry that this happened to you, you didn't deserve it.
Sometimes I wondered if the "old you" was in there somewhere. Were you waiting in our old spot? That park where I used to meet you after school, by that big gold clock that I loved so much. Were you waiting there for me? Hoping I'd see that you were there somewhere?
I'm sorry that I didn't thank you more. I owe a lot of the good in my life to you, you taught me so much. I'm so sorry that I never thought to give you credit for it more often.
I'm sorry that I left you there. I'm sorry that I moved on and stopped making you the center of my life, but I hope you understand. I hope you can forgive me.
I hope that wherever you are, you're you again.
When I was done, I tuned back into my surroundings and I heard my dad sniffle.
Daniel's POV.
We walked through the doors, Jo leading the way, of course, always trying to take the hit before me.
Nothing would ease this blow though.
There she was, my girl. My wife. The mother of my greatest joy, lifeless on a table.
I hadn't seen her in years, she refused to allow me to visit her, and we respected her wishes.
I talked to her a lot though.
In a way, I'd been mourning her for years. It's hard, grieving for the living.
I often wondered if the woman I loved so much was still in there somewhere.
Was she waiting to surprise Jo with a birthday cake in the hallway, sneaking kisses with me before we started to sing? I hoped she was. I hoped she was living that memory over and over. I wished I could too.
Or was she just angry with me? Did I dull her life? Was she so far gone from me? A whole universe away but just 20 minutes down the street.
Sometimes I would see her in my dreams, love her there again.
Sometimes I would see her in my nightmares though, her face would flash before me as I woke.
Now though, her face looked peaceful. She didn't look angry, she didn't look like she was in pain. It was time to say goodbye.
I'm sorry, Lottie. I'm so sorry that you had to go through this. I'm so sorry that you had to go through it alone.
I had to take care of our girl, I know you knew that. I know you wanted her safe. I'm sorry that my life couldn't center around you anymore, I wish it could have.
The sun set on our love long ago, but I'll never forget you. I'll never forget the love we had, the joy you brought me.
I'll love you forever. I hope you're at peace. I'll make sure Jo's okay. Say hi to my dad for me, will ya?
Goodbye, Charlotte.
Jo's POV.
I moved around the table to hold my dad's arm as he wiped the tears from his face with his free hand. When he was done he reached for her and swiped his thumb across her cheek.
I leaned onto his arm, sad that this is how they reunited. Sad that this is all he got.
We left shortly after that and made plans to come back the next day to make funeral arrangements. She already had a plot, Gramps had purchased plots for both my parents and left money in the account for my own if I wanted it.
I didn't think we'd be using them so soon.
The drive home was not silent this time, Dad turned on the radio and let the top 40 hits flow through the speakers.
I leaned against the window, suddenly exhausted by the thought of being awake. My eyes had just started to close when I heard it...
"Walk in your rainbow paradise..."
I couldn't help but let out a laugh, there was no escaping him.
I tapped my fingers along to the song as we drove home. The upbeat song really threw off the vibe of the day but I couldn't bring myself to turn it off.
When we got back to the house I told Dad I needed a nap, the adrenaline was wearing off and the exhaustion had set it. He needed one too so we ate a quick sandwich for lunch and then went our separate ways to our bedrooms.
When I crawled into bed, I knew that it was going to get worse. I knew that this numbness couldn't hold and that eventually, I was going to break. It was going to get ugly. This calmness that had settled inside me was not good.
I didn't know what to do about it though, I didn't want it to start hurting again so instead I just slept.
I slept for a long time, a very long time.
When I woke, there were arms around me.
When I cracked my eyes open I saw the mess of red hair beside me. Miranda was curled into my body, hugging me tightly as she slept.
I closed my eyes again and let sleep find me once more...I still felt nothing, but at least I wasn't alone.
_____________
hey, hi, hello.
surprise. i surprised us both, i literally just started writing this after i posted chapter 40.
i know this chapter is a bit different, being in both Jo and her fathers pov, but I hope you liked it and I hope it gave you some insight into Jo's upbringing and why she is the way she is.
IMPORTANT: the next three chapters will deal HEAVILY with grief. Grief is messy, it is triggering, it hard, and it's not easy for me to write about, so if you have something negative to say about the way that you will see Jo grieve, keep it to yourself.
Also just for some clarification in case you forgot, parts 2 and 3 are in past tense because they are memories.
Jo's journal entries at the beginning of each chapter are present day. She's writing these little blurbs in her journal bc her therapist recommends it, and then she's remembering that time in her life to process it and the emotions she has about it.
part 4 will be in present tense once again, just like part 1. it will pick up where the Journal leaves off.
hope that helps clear up any confusion.
i love you a lot. i'm here for you if you need to talk.
thanks for being here. -mo🤍🦋