The Darkest Thought
I killed them. I wanted an easier life, one without worry of judgement, fear of conflict. I didn't want to keep having the awkward conversations about our differing beliefs. I wished my life could be easier. So they died. and now my life is easier. And I think I killed them.
I wished my mom wouldn't worry so much about me living a sinful life, I didn't want to feel that she thought I was going to hell. So we would talk around it, only talk of things that were safe. Until we barely talked at all. I couldn't be mad that she didn't tell me she had cancer. When would she have told me? I spent more time with her as an adult after she had the stroke, when she couldn't speak at all, then I did while she was healthy. Did I kill her with my neglect? Did I think I'd have forever to figure this out? Did I want her to die so I wouldn't have to?
I am my father's daughter, as well as daddy's girl. He would come over unannounced, cook me food I couldn't eat. He wanted to give so much, but he ended up needing so much. He would take up my space, leave his mess everywhere. I told him to stay somewhere else while he was in town. I wished he wasn't such a burden. He had a stroke and fell down the stairs, and few weeks later, had an aneurysm, and was brain dead until he died. I guess he's not a burden anymore.
My brother and I had very different political views. We spoke of it once and then never again, carefully understanding our love for each other might not survive such a battle. I wished I didn't have to see his views on social media, wished I didn't have to make excuses for him, defend him. So he died. There's no chance of us getting into an argument now.
It is hard to live with two truths at once. That I loved my mom, my dad, my brother and I wanted them to live long, happy, healthy lives. But I wished for an easier life, and they died and now my life is easier. Acknowledging this is like admitting that I killed them.
In my head, I know this is not true. But in my heart, this thought lives, rent-free, forever.