Goodbye Blues

"Joy, it's mail day," The nurse said, walking into the bedroom of the old lady with an envelope in her hands. Mail day, for any normal resident at the senior center was once every week. For Joy, it was practically once a month.

Usually it was a letter from Joy's nephew, Matthew. He'd write her a letter, letting her know some things that were going on with the family; what was going on with Chris's divorce, how Matthew was coping with the divorce, and what everyone was up to.

Joy's eyes glanced at the white envelope in the nurse's hands eagerly. She loved her nephew dearly, though he never came to visit her in person. He was the only one who really took some time out of his day to keep up with her. Joy guessed it was because when he was little, she was the one to raise him and spoil him while Chris and Matthew's mother fought.

The nurse handed Joy the envelope, and Joy's eyes looked over it, noting the block, all-caps hand-writing of Matthew's. The nurse watched Joy as she flipped the envelope over and open it to the letter, slowly taking it out and unfolding it.

Aunt Joy,

The divorce has finally hit my dad. It happened two years ago, but it seems as if he's just realized that he's lost half of everything he owns, not to mention my mother's love and respect. He's in ruins, living with Bob and his family as he tries to regain his life back.

My mother, on the other hand, keeps her sadness in, smiling on the outside. Every morning, she's up bright and early, humming to herself and giving me kisses on the forehead as if everything's just fine and that the family hasn't been pulled apart. At night, though, I can hear her crying through the wall.

I feel like you kept us all stable when you were around. You were the one to bring us together when we were yelling at one another. You kept the fighting and depression to a minimum, even when Kevin was growing sick. Even when I was younger, I thought of you as a hero. I really do miss you, Aunt Joy.

Everyday I scold my father for convincing everyone to talk you into going into the senior center. I know he thought it was best; Kevin had passed away and you seemed to be falling into the hands of your bitter past, he said. But now that you're gone, I'm sure that everyone has noticed the big hole in their lives - even Karma and Julian.

Speaking of your children, I had a nice lunch with them the other day. Karma admits to missing you, but she still holds the same grudge against you for taking Kevin off life support. Julian, still a very stubborn young man, won't say much on the subject. But I know that he wants to come visit you - they both do. They miss their mother and they want her back home.

Julian's convinced that you're not the same person, though. He says since Kevin's gone, you've been obsessed with wanting your past back, specifically the summer before college. I don't know exacrtly what he means. But he's the oldest of our generation and knows more about my father's band and the tour of '07 much more than I or Karma do.

Knowing that you're curious, Greta's doing fine. Even since the band's official break up years and years ago, she seems happier than ever, just playing her music behind her piano with her family around her. She misses you, misses back when you two were extremely close. I know I say that in every letter, but I feel the need to express it, because I can feel the deep sorrow when she says it.

The Academy Is... boys miss you and wanted me to tell you they say hi, William especially. I know you won't write back, you never do, but I don't mind. So I'll just tell them that you as well say hello.

I miss you more than ever,
Love your nephew,
Matthew.

By the end of the letter, Joy was usually in tears, and this was no exception. It seemed as if the world outside the senior center, her family and friends, wanted and needed her. She wanted so desperately to just get away from the building filled with judgemental strangers and go home.

But then she'd think about the tender spots with everyone that she left. She never cleared the air with her kids after their father's death. She got into a fight with Chris after being put into the senior center and never forgave him for it. She stayed distant from Greta after all that happened, along with everyone from the tour of '07.

And all those things hit her hard, making her stay exactly where she was - sitting in her chair, looking over the letter with the nurse staring at her.

As she folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, Joy thought of Kevin. She never quite loved him the way she thought she'd love her husband; there was always a part of her that never quite let him in. That part was small and was reserved for Brendon, a part she never gave up on, though, when Kevin was healthy, she wanted it to go away.

But after Kevin died, the part only grew, eating her whole and stealing her away from her family and friends. The fact that she had lost all contact with Brendon made her sad and made her hate Kevin more and more, because it was his fault that years ago, she refused to keep in touch.

She knew that Julian knew about it now, too. She also knew Chris had told him. And she knew that because of it, he was angry with her. Angry about how she never really completely loved his father. He probably thought that she took him off life support for that reason; so he'd go and she'd be able to get Brendon back.

What Julian didn't know was that it wasn't that simple and that Joy wasn't so cold-hearted as to end someone's life so she could guiltlessly fall back in love with someone else.

Tears fell from her eyes as Joy stood up and walked over to her dresser, filled with letter from Matthew. She slipped it in and took a seat on her bed, thinking of ways she could fix everything. But she knew only one cure; Kevin.

And she had lost him, her only remedy.