4 Dear Mom,

I’ll never let you read this. It would truly break your heart to know how I really feel. Not that it would be a surprise really, but still.

I am 50 years old and I can definitively say that you should have left him when I was a teenager. The number of times you had to place yourself between the Ogre and me just to keep me from harm was more than one. Which is too many.

The mirror shattering when my back was pressed up against it would have been another sign. Too much pressure, too much rage all packed up into one person.

Did no one ever wonder why I spent so much time behind multiple closed doors, always reading about faraway places? Dreaming of having power, hoping for ways to make some kind of difference. Laying still beneath sheets and blankets, past mountains of bedroom rubble, trying to seem invisible, unworthy of any attention.

The garage, his cave, was noteworthy. Always playing with his toys, discouraging with a growl, those who wanted to lay their hands on his shiny loot. I’ve seen you shudder thinking about what to do with all that junk once he’s gone.

The eyes, whose baleful gaze could freeze men of all ages in their tracks. The ever-grimy fingernails, dirty from hours toiling in the workshop. The hands always either bloody from missteps or wrapped in bandages. And he towered, oh how he dwarfed all those around him. Using such height and girth to bully all to do his bidding. It should have been no surprise.

And now evil fills his body, softens his bones. Tearing him apart from the inside. His fear reflects the terror I carried for decades, for eons. His weakness emboldens others who see him only for what he leaves behind.

The poison in his veins robs him of his strength, but his voice still carries anger and rage. In his weakened state I still can’t look him in the eyes. And you still tend to him, knowing full well his weight will crush you someday.

My glare is hot as I think of him and my voice trembles as I contemplate his absence. And so this will never reach your eyes. Only coming to light when you both have passed into the dark.

Your loving son.