CHAPTER ONE
TWO MONTHS BEFORE
SAVANNAH
An odd thing happens when you hear from a physician you trust that you’re going to die. I heard that news eighteen months ago. That is about how much time he gave me.
I’ve always been a planner, so I sold my house, moved into a retirement home, and, as always suggested in such situations, got my affairs in order. It got me thinking about what comes next. Not surrounding my death; I’ve planned for that, too. What comes next when I’m not around?
It is hard to plan for that, but I look to my past to guide me.
Life turns on the decisions we make. Single, small moments that transform everything.
Several consciously made decisions have marked my adult life. They have also marked others. I take comfort in the rightness of each, but as I near death, I begin to question them.
First, I decided to be a mother. Not just a mother, but a good mother. A good mother makes herself okay for her children. Because I wanted to be a good mother, Chloe, my only child, knows only the parts of me I chose to give her. I never showed her the pieces of me from earlier before I became her mother. Never completely. Not honestly. It wasn’t difficult; I am a person who doesn’t want to be known. In this way, I have been a good mother. The easiest lie is the one the other person wants to believe. Children want to believe their parents are okay. I sold it; she believed it.
My first decision has a bullet point. To become a mother, I used IVF and donor sperm. My best friend, Marcy, helped me find a wonderful donor, but she talked me into allowing my yet-to-be-born baby access to the donor records once they turn twenty-five.
Twenty-five years seemed a long way off, but Marcy tells me Chloe has located and met with her donor. My daughter hasn’t told me. I now wish I hadn’t relented. I don’t want to talk to her about this. Especially not now.
Our ability to raise children is colored by the life we lived before they came along, which in turn colors theirs. This is true for each generation. I never experienced many of the most formative events of my life; others did. My ancestors’ life experiences molded not only them but their DNA, and this potent brew passed from generation to generation to me. So, my second decision was to stop the cycle by trying to prevent or at least limit the toxic brew passed to Chloe. Using a donor was one of my attempts to stop the cycle. I’ve withheld many things for her sake. For my sake, too. I never wanted to be defined by my early circumstances. I didn’t want her defined by them either.
My third and most recent decision has been in the making only in the last few months. I wish I had more time. I have tried to convince my daughter that she, like me, is not a woman who should marry. It's hard enough to stop the cycle without a man; it's impossible with one. She’s always listened to me. She’ll break her engagement with Dwayne. I’ll know soon.
But as I near death, I see that what my daughter doesn’t know – about me, about her heritage – might have hurt her. I tried to protect her, but of late, I see I may not have. Not completely. I see it most clearly in her relationships with men. As a teenager, she was merely not interested. As a young adult, she picked unavailable men. Now, she thinks marrying Dwayne will give her a chance at happiness.
Not knowing the cycle, she is unconsciously following it.
Mercifully, it's too late now to tell her in person the secrets I’ve kept; I couldn’t bear to see her face when I told her. With the time I have left, I will supply her with the path to learn - and hopefully, understand – not only the toxic brew I tried not to pass on to her but also that I did it because of my love for her. And that she must do the same. She must also stop the cycle.
For my third decision, I’ve devised a path, a series of clues to guide her to understand why I kept secrets from her, others in my life, and no doubt myself. How I know from first-hand experience that her support in ending my life on my terms will be difficult. I will lead her to uncover some secrets, but not all. I hope this will turn her away from Dwayne. I hope she can forgive me.
Manipulative? Certainly. Self-serving? Of course. Well-intentioned? Absolutely.
I trust the universe, a loyal friend, and family journals to lead her.
It can’t be too late.
