When Flowers refuses to Blossom

I had been crying for a whole day straight, I didn’t know how to stop the tears from coming. How was it that when I just met him, he had to die? Did my life have to be so pathetic?

“Please stop crying, it took me a while to stop the tears from coming. You crying will make it start all over,” Gideon's eyes were red and puffy, he had been crying since he called me. He and my dad must have been so close, because he really loved him.

“How do I give him a befitting burial? I have no work, no savings just a mother to has more excesses than I even earn,” the tears came back like a waterfall.

“I promised Fred that I would take care of that if he died, I never imagined it would be this unplanned,” his eyes pooled all over again. “You can plan the burial, I would provide the money.”

The burial took place at a burial place, I couldn’t cremate him, I didn’t have the heart for that. Gideon had come with some of my father’s friends, I had gotten him different roses, which meant a lot of things.

The pastor which we had invited, had preached, prayed and blessed us. Most of my dad's friends said good things about him, with tears in their eyes. My dark sunglasses couldn’t hide the tears that were pouring down my face, when it was time for me to speak, I couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything,

“My dad was a good man....” I let out a large sob. I couldn’t believe I was burying the person I literally just met. I ran away, I couldn’t bare the pity eyes the people around were giving me, so I ran. I ran as fast as my legs could take me, I was dressed in a black long sleeved jumpsuit with black ankle boots, the outfit made my running easier. How my life went on from here wasn’t in my hands anymore, all I knew was that I wasn’t going back to Ireland to meet my mother.

*****

Two days after the burial, and I was still locked up in my father’s house. I looked like crap, I hadn’t eaten in two days, my hair was a mess, and I had cried my way all through the day. While scrolling through a stray newspaper I saw in the kitchen, searching for a new job, I noticed a roof door at the far end of the corridor. I decided to explore, I pulled the rope which was hanging from it, then noticed a hidden ladder. I climbed up through the ladder, and discovered the attic. There were a lot of things there, old pictures, old furniture, I saw my first ever bike, the second one, a led vanity which I got as my 16th birthday present, I saw different documents and papers, a box which read, ‘For Ana,’ on it. I picked up the box then opened it, I saw some papers, but one purple coloured paper caught my eyes, back when I was 16, purple was my favourite colour, now I didn’t even have time for favourite colours.

‘I know how much you must hate me now, and I know how much you must think I hate you and your mother, well I don’t. Maybe when you get older, you would be able to understand that a man and his wife get a divorce most likely to save their child from pain, and since ours looks like it is causing you pain now, I just felt I should write to you. I and your mother love you, that was why we got a divorce, telling you the whole details wouldn’t mean anything to you now because you’re still young, but please just find a place in your heart to forgive both of us, Love Dad.’ This was what was written on the letter, how come he never gave this to me? I dug further into the box and saw another purple coloured letter, it read;

‘I don’t want your letter, don’t ever write to me again!! Ana.’ I don’t remember ever getting any letter from my dad, talk more of sending back a reply. The only person who could give a better explanation to this was my mother, I picked up my phone and immediately dialled her number.

“Good morning darling, how are you doing now? I heard you buried your dad two days ago,” her sing song voice sounded from the other side of the line.

“Do not good morning darling me, Sara. You didn’t call to give your condolences, so stop acting like you care, I only called because I want to know something. Did that write any letter to me?” I asked her sternly.

“Uh...um...um...yes, he did.... but that was when you were 16,” her voice had become shaky when she said all this.

“So, Sara what happened with the letter?”

“Nothing happened to it, I just felt you wouldn’t want to read it, so I....I sent it back to him.”

“You did that with a reply, saying I wasn’t interested in it, did I ever say that to you? Do you even know what it’s like living without a father?!” Now I was yelling, she made me believe my dad never asked about me, never even cared. “Why have you been so cruel to me?” 

“I'm so sorry,” she let out a sob. I had never heard her cry in the entire 26 years of my life, so I guess she was really sorry. But being sorry wasn’t going to bring back the time I would’ve spent with my dad, I just didn’t know how to forgive her for now, so I disconnected the call.

I packed up all the boxes I had opened, then went back down the ladder, and into the living room. I had decided I wouldn’t cry again, I would be strong just like my dad would’ve wanted for me.