I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing anymore. I have no fucking idea. I feel lifeless and lost sitting here looking at my goddamn heart lying in this hospital bed. I don't feel like me. I feel like a goddamn shell of a person. I'm on autopilot all the time. I've sat by Lala's bed day in and day out, and nothing I do works. Nothing, not a fucking thing.
I've been given opinions and options. I've been told stories. I've been preached to and I've had hope shoved down my throat and optimism shoved in my face. I've been handed pamphlets and paperwork. I've been given medical advice of every kind from every fucking specialist, doctor, nurse, and person. None of it makes this shit any easier for me. None of it makes me feel any less empty, or any less guilty. She's slowly dying on me.
I can't let her go, but I can't keep her like this. Lala's had a hard life. She's been though more than she ever should have been. She's so goddamn strong all of the time, but now it's time for her to let go and rest.
The doctors keep her heavily medicated, saying that she's still in pain as she fades away. She's still not the same. She's never going to be the same. I can't fix her and I can't keep her here like this.
I can't keep her anymore. I got my time. I got all of the Lala I was ever going to get, and I'm fucking thankful for that time. She gave me more than I ever deserved. She gave me her love and her heart, and that makes me one lucky motherfucker.
Kissing her forehead I breathe her in, sweet like always. I feel her skin under my hands, touch her hair, remembering the softness. I stare at that beautiful as sin face and those heart shaped lips, always happy and smiling. I remember her content and happy laugh.
"I'm sorry, Lala."
I let the tears go. I fucking sob into her hair and hold her to me one last time. "Thank you for the beautiful surprise. Thank you for loving me and always being my Lala." I'll never truly let her go. I know it'd be impossible, but I have to let her rest. "Baby I don't want to let you go, but It's time." Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope and pray this isn't it for us. I hope like fuck she'll find her way back to me, back to us. "I love you, Lala. I have since I first saw you."
Kissing her one last time, I soak in as much as I can. I have to tell myself to let her go. Walking to the door, I can't look at her again. I remind myself I have to do this. "I'm sorry. I'll always love you. It was always you, baby."
Three years later. …
Rampage
"It's today! It's today Daddy!" A mess of dark hair and big blue eyes run toward the kitchen, clutching a doll for dear life. She's smiling from ear to ear, looking exactly like Lala.
Coming to a stop in front of me, she smiles and nods enthusiastically. Patience isn't her thing. She got that shit from me.
"It's today, right?" She asks me again. Like she's got to ask me. She knows. She puts her X's on that calendar at the club ever goddamn day.
///
Sometimes it's hard to look at her. She looks like Lala, yet she looks like me. She's a perfect fucking mix of the two of us. She's so goddamn beautiful. Everyone tells me she looks like me, but to me she's all Lala. She's all long dark hair and big blue eyes. She's all sweet, perfect face, big smile, and a heart of fucking gold. She's Lala through and through.
"Baby, yeah." She jumps up and down a few times and squeals. Above all other days; Christmas, Halloween, Easter, even her own birthday, today is her favorite. Today is Lala's birthday.
"You didn't forget the cake, did you Daddy?" Forget it? That would be fucking impossible and unlikely. She would never let me forget that shit. She's been collecting shit at every store for the past two weeks for this day. Hell, she hasn't stopped talking about today. I've been reminded every day for the past six weeks. It's our day for Lala.
"Baby, no. I would never forget such an important thing."
Throwing her hands out to her sides, she giggles, "Up, Daddy." Lifting her up, I sit her on the kitchen counter, right by the cake. She looks at it and smiles up at me. That's all Lala right there. "You put Mommy's name on it. It's pink and pretty, Daddy."
She loves pink. I hate it. She loves glitter. That shit gets on every fucking thing. She loves Barbie's. They scare me. She loves princess shit, and those too, scare the shit out of me. She loves her Mommy and I love her too.
"Next year it'll be blue." I tell her.
She gasps and puts her pink finger nailed hands on her hips and glares at me. "No! Me ‘n Mommy love pink," she declares. I've no idea if Lala ever liked pink.
"Okay, okay."
The familiar and comforting rumble of pipes filters in through the screen door.
"Aunty Lil ‘n Aunty Peaches ‘n Cousin Rowan ‘n Uncle Tank ‘n Cousin Ty ‘n Cousin Owen ‘n Uncle Gin ‘n Uncle Stitch are all here, Daddy," She rambles off all their names in quick succession. How she's not out of breath after that shit is beyond me. That was a damn mouth full.
She squeals, hopping off of the counter like a little goddamn dare devil. She's going to give me a fucking heart attack. I swear to God, I'll never make it to fifty at this rate.
"Hi, baby. Come give your favorite Auntie some lovins," Lil hollers as soon as she's inside the house, scooping Georgia up into a hug.
Peaches glares at her and throws an elbow into her side, "Hey, bitch. You've got your own girl. She's mine."
I don't know what I would have done without them, without all of them, really. The girls helped so much with Georgia for a long time. She needed women in her life and I couldn't have picked better ones for her. They love her so fucking much.
"Alright pretty girl. Time to go get beautiful," Lil says.
"Auntie, will I be pretty like a princess? Cus Daddy says Mommy looks like a princess, and I wanna look like my Mommy." Lil looks over Georgia's shoulder at me with tears in her eyes and shakes her head, trying to pull it together. The memories still sting for her. I fucking feel that shit, too. I just shrug because I really don't have much to say, because to me, Lala looks like a princess.
"Yes baby. You'll look just like your Mommy and your Mommy is a princess."
"I know," Georgia sighs tiredly. She should know. I tell her the stories.
Every year on Lala's birthday, the girls take Georgia to the nail and hair place. They shop and spend too much of my money. They go to some girl doll store thing and again, spend too much damn money there, too. I spend the day the same way each year, reading and rereading that letter.
"You gonna be okay man?" Tank asks me. No. I'll never be okay with what happened, but I'm getting there. Maybe someday I'll let it all go.
"Yeah brother, I'll be good."
****
The same day every year, I pull that wrinkled and tattered piece of paper from my nightstand. It's only been three years, but that single piece of paper has seen better days. For the first few weeks, I read it hourly. After a few months, I read it daily. A year had passed, and I vowed to read it just one day a year.
Reading it only once a year almost makes it feel like it was the first time all over again. The pain is still the same. The ache still raw and fresh when I reread her words, words I know by heart. I should stop, but I can't let it go.
I know I'll never be able to. I don't fucking want to. Every time I look at my baby, I see Lala. Every time I hear the girls laughing, I hear her. Every time I get on my bike, I feel her body on mine. She's everywhere, right where I want her to be. I don't ever want to forget that day, no matter how fucking much it hurts.
///
Sitting in an old wood chair on my back porch, I pour myself a drink and kick my boots up on the railing. Slamming it back, I repeat the process. Pulling out the letter, I remind myself of the greatest love I had and ever will have.
Rampage,
I'm writing this letter to you in case something ever happens to me. Morbid, I know, but I just wanted to tell you a few things, so I guess if you're reading this, then something did happen to me. I'm sorry.
I want you to know that I didn't want to leave you. I didn't want to leave the way I did, either. I wanted to, at the very least, say goodbye. Ryan came back and said he would kill all of you, even describing what little Ty's bedroom and blanket looked like. I couldn't live with myself if I had led the closest thing I had ever had to a family into harm's way. Everyone had been through enough with what had happened to Lil, and I couldn't do that to you all. I left, hoping to lead him away. I'm sorry I was never able to say goodbye the way you deserved.