There was a slight breeze coming from the west. I didn't feel the coldness though. For the first time in my life, my body felt the warmth of God and his never ending love. But the feelings were wrong, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Was it? Here I am, kneeling by my father's grave and I'm smiling. At least on the inside, but am I supposed to? 'No!' my head tells me. 'Yes!' my heart screams to the heavens. Why? What's the right answer? I don't know and probably never will. My hands release the dozen of red roses and as I walk away from the tombstone, I can't help but thank God.
It all started when my mother died. We go back thirty one years. At the age of five, I visit the grave of my mother for the very first time. Tears leak from my eyes, at first. Then they fall like rain and my emotions overcome my self control. Just like seven days earlier when the doctor told my father and I that breast cancer had finally taken over her heart and body.
On the day of her funeral, the whole town came. Everyone knew the story of our household. We weren't perfect, but we sure gave a good illusion of it. My father loved my mother, there was absolutely no doubt, even the blind could see the obvious. Even though the sun shone brightly in the light blue sky, no warmth embraced my cold heart.
Shaken mourners dressed in ebony dresses and suits walked up the church steps one by one to share both joyful and sorrowful stories. Later, in tiny herds of families and friends, we followed the men in black carrying a wooden case ahead of us.
My father and I stood still as several men in black gently set down the heavy oak casket in a ditch of dirt surrounded by cement tombstones. Salty tears were shed once more, moistening the faces of the ones who grieved. Among those people, was me. I stared with wide eyes, watching the guests place all types of flowers on her grave. Flowers aren't going to do anything, I thought. Plants aren't going to bring her back. That's all I wanted, just to feel the softness of her sweet embrace. I never did get my wish.
My father's love for my mother turned into longing after her death. It was a longing that could never be fulfilled. Because of that, he relied on a bottle of whiskey to comfort him and keep him company all hours of the day. This, I found out later, was a bad thing.
I still remember the day he first hit me...
It was the month that followed my mother's funeral. Though my father and I still grieved, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Little did I know I would discover another side of my father I never knew existed. Then again, maybe it didn't. Maybe the anger and the harshness evolved from the toxic alcohol he became addicted to.
The season of winter made itself known in mid December. A thick blanket of snow concealed the colors of nature and its creations. I watched tiny crystals fall from above through my frosted bedroom window. It was cold and bitter days like these I couldn't help but think of her, my angel in heaven. I stared out into the gray sky outside and I prayed that she would be free of her suffering, her pain.
I pulled out my small wooden jewelry box and lifted the lid. Immediately, I found what I wanted. My eyes settled on a necklace of shiny white pearls strung together by clear wire; the gift I received after my mother's death. I held the treasure loosely in my hands, rubbing the tiny smooth spheres. I stood in front of the mirror as I put the necklace around my neck.
Not only did the pearls resemble the flawless beauty my mother had when she glowed with happiness, but the necklace was also the last memory I had of her and I would cherish it forever. That is, if I had the chance. Unfortunately, I didn't.
"Daddy?" I questioned as I approached him slowly. He sat at the kitchen counter. "Will you play tea party with me? Mr. Snuggles is getting lonely," I added as I hugged my teddy bear with loving arms.
"Not now, Maddie," he replies, his face buried in his rough hands. "Daddy's not in the mood."
"When are you going to be in the mood, daddy?" I wondered out loud. "You never want to play with me anymore."
"I said not now," my father answered once more, a harsher tone this time.
"But daddy..." I whined.
He abruptly stood up and made his way over to where I stood, frozen.
...To Be Continued...
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Author notes
This was inspired by the song "Oh Father" by Madonna. This is only part of it. I will add more when I get more ideas and have more time. Meanwhile, you can check out the song and video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nNN4MIl-Ps Please leave comments on how I'm doing so far. Thanks!
*Frozen Angel*
P.S I know I am not writing character descriptions for any characters. I did not think it was very necessary. I might add them later.
Any thoughts?
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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short and sweet, nice work. I look forward to seeing out how it ends. Very descriptive, despite the length which was very impressive. Good job and good plot concept.
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Interesting...good interesting
I liked it, it was definitly my type of story. I think yo should tell us what she looks like...
But other than that,
I liked it.
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How sweet
Soooooo creative!! This isn't really my kind of story, but I really liked it! And you know thats a good sign!
Keep writing, your doing so well!! : )
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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wow that's amazing
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That was amazing it had great description, it made it feel like i was there with the raw emotion and the reality of it is that thats exactly how people react to these things. I've had my share of funerals and they were mostly native american so not exactly like this but i have went to my irish grandmother's funeral and this was almost exactly how it is. I got all this only from the beggining to where the special font ends! I hope you will be able to write more of this amazing piece of work soon i will sure want to know when you do so please keep me updated...
good job!
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"I don't know and probably will never know," should be "I don't know and probably never will."
My Internet's too slow. I wish I could watch the song
This flowed nicely and is interesting enough that I want it to keep going. There's nothing else to really say until then.
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This is really good so far. Keep me updated, I want to read more! Other than the fact that you're an awesome writer, I don't know what to say.
And I know what you mean by not writing the character descriptions.
I don't think it's necessary yet.
-erica->
ps.
This was really good.
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Thanks! I'm glad you thought so. I'll message you when I write more. Did you get a chance to listen to the song?
*Frozen Angel*
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Physical character descriptions are not always necessary. It is though your writing that we, as readers, shall understand the character's mentality as well as the rest of their personality.
The title doesn't quite fit but sadly, I cannot give a better one at the moment.
I can see by this much already that you are quite talented and I am quite interested in this piece of writing.
What I would like to see more in depth is the protagonists struggle with this death placed in his/her hands as well as the struggled with the father's drinking habits.
Good luck
x Julez -
Ah, at the end of it are you talking about the father's or the mothehr's funeral? And why would she be smiling? It's like the Mona Lisa secret ^^'
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Awww. You don't want me to ruin the secret, do you? I want others to read this story too! It probably doesn't make much sense now because the story isn't fully developed yet. All I ask is wait until I finish it (please?) and if you're still confused, I'll explain it to you. Thanks!
*Frozen Angel*
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