Page 1 of My Dearest Mackenzie

My Dearest Mackenzie—

If you’re reading this…well then, you know. I’ve gone and crossed over to the dark side.

I always was a fan of those movies…remember when you were younger, and we went to see them in the theaters? Of course you do!

I know you’re probably upset with me, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the melanoma. Truly.

One day I was fine, and the next, I was dying. Honestly, I didn’t believe Dr. Hall at first. And then I didn’t want to bother anyone. I’ve always felt life is for the living, and there was no reason to interrupt everyone’s regularly scheduled programming with sadness and worry.

There’s nothing more to say now (because I’m gone).

My one hope is that you won’t forget me. Please. I’m rambling, but one thing is for certain: I never imagined leaving you this soon. When your grandpa had a heart attack when you were ten, I figured I’d be a widow for a long time, watching you grow older, fall in love, and maybe bring a little one into the world yourself. I always believed I’d live to be a great-grandmother!

Now that I’m gone, I want you to think about how I made you soup when you were sick or homemade fried chicken fingers when you were sad. It was a labor of love, and I hope you bring the same sort of compassion to your own life and those who you hold close.

Remember going to an R-rated movie when your dad wouldn’t let you see one? That was exhilarating and the type of excitement you should assign to everyday doldrums.

Bend the rules, my dearest. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something.

As I write this, I don’t know what it’s like up in the sky, but if it’s possible to miss something or someone, you can be sure I miss you the most.

You, my dear grandson, were the bright spot in many of life’s bleary moments. Being your grandmother was my greatest treasure. Sure, I love your cousins, but you were my golden angel. My chance to do it all better, correct the mistakes I made with your dad. We all know Susie wasn’t meant to be molded, and I did the best I could with her, but your dad got caught up in something he shouldn’t have. I don’t mean your mom; I mean my baggage and me. It was me who haunted him. You won’t ever understand, but I promise you—it was me.

As for Samantha, I wish your mom well, but her missing out on life with you was a deficit she could never make up for in my mind. I wasn’t a substitute, but I’m sure glad I was there for you. These are the experiences, moments, and snippets I never would give up.

The past few years, I know you’ve been building your career and learning to be out on your own, and I only wish you could have spent more time at home, so I could watch. Although spreading your wings, launching new products, expanding the company, it’s all important, and I know you’re exceeding all expectations. Like when you surprised yourself as the kicker on your football team. Those guys were your brothers and extended family, and you did not disappoint them. It’s time to create a new family…

I made myself a big pot of mishy-mashy soup today, and I couldn’t help but think of you and wanted to remind you of a few things before I left this world.

Find love and hold on to it. Not like your dad, who drowned in it. That was my fault…there were a lot of reasons why I didn’t give him what he needed, and he sought it elsewhere and from the wrong person. It wasn’t until too late that he realized he was caught in an undertow. Except we got you out of the bad deal, and when you find love, don’t scrounge it like so many others. Nurture it like a man who values what he’s discovered.

Love has a mind of its own, so remember, nine times out of ten, the woman (or man, whoever floats your boat, grandson) is right. The universe speaks, and you need to listen.

Stop trying to make peace with your mom. She is happy doing whatever she’s doing, and you are a wonderful young man despite her. Her loss.

Flush the toilet. Always. The saying if “it’s yellow, let it mellow” from your football days is simply wrong.

Health starts in the kitchen. Takeout or delivery junk, or whatever you kiddos eat today is the road to making unhealthy choices. Limit your booze too.

Do NOT ever visit me in the cemetery. What a waste of time. Live your life to the fullest.

Aren’t you glad I made you learn to read and write in cursive?

I love you.

Grammy Milly

I stared at the flowing words on the crinkled piece of paper, knowing every single letter without reading it. The cursive dribble had been living rent-free in my head and at the bottom of my sock drawer—like my football days—for the last twenty years. Leave it to Milly to haunt me today; it was just like her to captivate me when I least wanted it.

I’d not done a single thing on her list other than remember her and the moments we shared. About once a month, whether I tried to avoid it or not, I thought about what item she would be most upset about—my seeking out my good-for-nothing mother (repeatedly, until I gave it a permanent rest), or my total lack of caring when it came to finding love. Maybe the way I’d visited her tombstone a million times and carefully placed flowers? Or perhaps my notorious bachelor habits. I rarely flushed when I drained the dragon, and I lived on a rotation of delivery service meals. Sometimes I screwed the chef, but I tried not to. Why? Because I didn’t do leftovers. Sexy cooks aside, my grandmother meant well in her advice, but she had to know these sorts of things were unattainable for a man like me. None of this meant I was a bad guy or mean person. In fact, if anything, I was protecting my softie heart from a lifetime of disappointment.

At least that’s what I told my friend, Teddy, when he called, reminding me of the letter and his similar wishes…

Thankfully, my phone buzzed, and it wasn’t my aforementioned friend.

Knocking me out of my reverie, I was grateful for the distraction. I hit the button and accepted the call, hearing my name ring through the speaker.

“Mack!”

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