Chapter 23 - Thomas’s Death
Thomas died when I was forty six.
Stroke.
Natural.
No mystery.
No prison revenge.
No secret account.
Victim services no longer involved, but his brother Mark sent notice through attorney because Thomas had left instructions that I be informed.
I felt nothing at first.
Then anger.
Then relief.
Then guilt about relief.
Therapist? I no longer had regular therapy but called former? Could schedule. I spoke to Ben.
“He can’t come near Nora.”
“He hasn’t for years.”
“I know.”
Then:
“He can’t ever.”
“Yes.”
Physical permanence mattered even if practical risk gone.
Then Thomas’s estate.
Small.
He had worked after release.
Saved some.
He left:
$24,000 to his brother.
$18,000 to a recovery charity.
And $37,000 designated toward any remaining restitution.
Restitution already satisfied.
What happened to $37k?
Estate attorney asked court; it passed under residue to charity because no balance. Good.
He left me nothing.
Good.
Then a letter.
I had said no more contact. He had not sent during life.
He left sealed with attorney to offer after death.
I could refuse.
I accepted.
Maybe curiosity never leaves.
Emma,
If you are reading this, I am dead, which means I cannot use apology to ask anything from you.
Good start.
Then:
I broke your arm because you would not obey me. I told myself it was accident for years. It was not.
Then:
I choked you because I wanted you afraid.
Then:
I stole from your trust because I believed money in my house belonged to me.
Then:
Linda participated. Do not let me become the excuse that erases what she did.
I stopped.
Even dead, he gave a truth I had already learned.
Then:
But I made fear useful to her. That is also true.
Both.
Then:
I do not know whether I loved you. I used to say I did. Love that demands fear may be something else.
That line hurt.
Then:
I hope you built a life where nobody has to record the room to be believed.
I closed letter.
Did I forgive?
No dramatic.
I burned? Better not. Could shred.
I shredded after a week.
No need preserve dead abuser’s wisdom.
Then Mom.
I told her Thomas died.
She sat silent.
Then cried.
Not because wanted him back.
Grief for years.
For who she was.
For damage.
She said:
“I’m relieved.”
“So am I.”
No shame.
Then:
“I’m sad.”
“Me too, somehow.”
That was allowed.
Then Mark attended funeral.
I did not.
Mom did not.
No need.
Then one last legal document:
Thomas’s supervision record closed.
No open obligations.
All financial restitution satisfied years earlier.
Trust fraud fully resolved.
No undiscovered accounts.
No hidden accomplices.
Pathway dissolved.
Sterling settlement complete.
Mom’s conviction remained.
She completed.
May you like
Everything factual had an endpoint.
Feelings did not need one.
