Prose (Warning: Long)
Remnants of You
I remember the way the Indian Paintbrush swayed gently in the soft breeze emitting from your window. The way the petals looked as though they were spun from God’s silk as they danced with the wind. I stared at them for what seemed like eternity. Watching as they gracefully bowed their heads, the delicate blooms glistening. The glistening became thicker, more intense until the flowers eventually began to blur, and the tears fell from my eyes. They silently struck my hands, folded in my lap and I turned away from the beautiful red blossoms to focus my attention to the center of the room.
Upon the sterile white bed, underneath the sterile white sheets, lay the remnants of you. I watched your chest tremble and rise as you shallowly inhaled. I wondered if you were even aware I was there, sitting beside your bed, watching, waiting, willing for the strength to do both. Your hands lay limply at your sides, the frail skeletal structure of them almost protruding from your skin. Your skin, so taught and waxy, seemed surreal. I was afraid at any moment it would crack and split open, revealing your insides, so eaten away by the volatile bastard that left you in this mess.
I always wondered if you bought my act when I first stepped into that dreadful room. They told me you were different, but nothing could prepare me for what lay beyond that doorframe. As I washed my hands with the soft soap, staring into the mirror, I wondered if I would have the courage to step beyond the doorframe, or even beyond the porcelain sink in front of me. I sucked in the stale air around me and with head down and hands at my sides, I followed them to where you lay. As I lifted my head, the stale air quickly left my lungs and was replaced with a sharp inhale of the medically perfect oxygen around you. I felt the sting jabbing at my corneas, unexpected tears. I felt the knot in my throat, but swallowed it down the best I could. So afraid that knot could finalize the noose that death had prematurely laid around your neck. So afraid that releasing that knot would release the final strings of hope attached to my heart.
You were there, but barely. The sunlight spilled across your bed, accentuating the discolored patches of skin, the emaciated withered being underneath the sheet. The masses of your fiery red hair, beard, and mustache had disappeared. Even your eyebrows had vanished, causing your stunning blue eyes to appear so sunken in, they might disappear as well. You were rotting away before my eyes, and somehow, I was supposed to be okay with this. Then, in your raw rough voice, destroyed by the harsh chemicals and radiation, you hoarsely spoke…”Hey sweetie”. The dam almost broke then, but I managed to hold against the deep crack that those words had created.
I couldn’t look at you for several moments, so I glanced around the room. My letters to you, tacked against the wall. They were full of prayers and hopes, expectations and questions. How insignificant it all seemed now, even as you told me that it gave you the strength to keep going. Now you’re being forced to halt, and all the showers of lettered love in the world couldn’t save you.
I remember watching you wince when I hugged you. I was so scared you would break in my arms, shatter to infinite pieces. You were supposed to protect me from the monsters under my bed, from the bad boys breaking my heart. I felt the impossibility rise up in my throat and I felt like gagging. It’s okay Daddy, I forgive you. I kept the monsters away as long as I could, and the boys won’t have their way.
I wanted to be near you for eternity, and knowing eternity was separating us was the hardest part. So I held your hand for now. That frail waxy hand. Hard to believe it was the same one that gripped me so strongly as I crossed the street as a child, or lifted me to the ceiling as I giggled obnoxiously. The same hand that had been such a source of strength for me but was now too weak to hold the cup of water beside your bed.
I never thought I would survive past the day you didn’t. Fears rung like somber church bells in my heart. You’d never see me get my license, or my high school graduation. You wouldn’t watch wearily but with support, as I fell in love…and if and when I did, the one day of my life filled with the utmost beauty passion and love, the day where all a little girl’s princess dreams come true, you wouldn’t be there to tell me I was the most beautiful girl on earth. And you wouldn’t be there to walk me down that isle of my future, to give me away to the man I loved.
As I sat beside your bed and pensively digested these frightful thoughts, you seemed to read my mind. Knowingly you reached out for me, and you told me that no matter what you would always be there. Even more so than you were in life. As comforting as the thought may seem, I didn’t want you as my guardian angel. I wanted you here, as my Father.
I remember the day I left, against my heart and will. Sitting on your bed, staring at you for what would be the last time in my lifetime. I traced my hands along your fingers, your arm and your face. Memorizing the lines that once formed the strong built man who protected me from childhood evils. You looked at me with tears in your eyes, and I knew that you were allowing my dam to break. Your struggling voice was lost inside my sobs, but words could not have expressed the emotional fog thickening in that room. I saw you wince as my grip had unintentionally tightened on your hand, yet you still returned the strength. Giving you one last hug was the hardest grievance of my lifetime, and looking into those sunken bright blue eyes as I kissed your cheek and your hand and said my last goodbye that would ever fall upon your ears.
I walked away, out the door wishing that I could run back in and crawl under the covers. To lay beside you and listen to you tell me stories like you used to. But I kept walking.
That Sunday, back at home, I woke up from a fitful disturbing sleep. Mom told me that you took your final breath only a few hours before I awoke. I just slowly nodded my head and went back up into my room. It was still just a dream to me. I fished through my memory box and dug out the locket. The beautiful heart shaped locket you gave me. I opened it up and stared at the face of my Father. The tears began to well and I had just enough time to read the inscription on the back before all my strength and hope diminished.
“We will be together again soon”
If only we had known.
I remember the way the Indian Paintbrush swayed gently in the soft breeze emitting from your window. The way the petals looked as though they were spun from God’s silk as they danced with the wind. I stared at them for what seemed like eternity. Watching as they gracefully bowed their heads, the delicate blooms glistening. The glistening became thicker, more intense until the flowers eventually began to blur, and the tears fell from my eyes. They silently struck my hands, folded in my lap and I turned away from the beautiful red blossoms to focus my attention to the center of the room.
Upon the sterile white bed, underneath the sterile white sheets, lay the remnants of you. I watched your chest tremble and rise as you shallowly inhaled. I wondered if you were even aware I was there, sitting beside your bed, watching, waiting, willing for the strength to do both. Your hands lay limply at your sides, the frail skeletal structure of them almost protruding from your skin. Your skin, so taught and waxy, seemed surreal. I was afraid at any moment it would crack and split open, revealing your insides, so eaten away by the volatile bastard that left you in this mess.
I always wondered if you bought my act when I first stepped into that dreadful room. They told me you were different, but nothing could prepare me for what lay beyond that doorframe. As I washed my hands with the soft soap, staring into the mirror, I wondered if I would have the courage to step beyond the doorframe, or even beyond the porcelain sink in front of me. I sucked in the stale air around me and with head down and hands at my sides, I followed them to where you lay. As I lifted my head, the stale air quickly left my lungs and was replaced with a sharp inhale of the medically perfect oxygen around you. I felt the sting jabbing at my corneas, unexpected tears. I felt the knot in my throat, but swallowed it down the best I could. So afraid that knot could finalize the noose that death had prematurely laid around your neck. So afraid that releasing that knot would release the final strings of hope attached to my heart.
You were there, but barely. The sunlight spilled across your bed, accentuating the discolored patches of skin, the emaciated withered being underneath the sheet. The masses of your fiery red hair, beard, and mustache had disappeared. Even your eyebrows had vanished, causing your stunning blue eyes to appear so sunken in, they might disappear as well. You were rotting away before my eyes, and somehow, I was supposed to be okay with this. Then, in your raw rough voice, destroyed by the harsh chemicals and radiation, you hoarsely spoke…”Hey sweetie”. The dam almost broke then, but I managed to hold against the deep crack that those words had created.
I couldn’t look at you for several moments, so I glanced around the room. My letters to you, tacked against the wall. They were full of prayers and hopes, expectations and questions. How insignificant it all seemed now, even as you told me that it gave you the strength to keep going. Now you’re being forced to halt, and all the showers of lettered love in the world couldn’t save you.
I remember watching you wince when I hugged you. I was so scared you would break in my arms, shatter to infinite pieces. You were supposed to protect me from the monsters under my bed, from the bad boys breaking my heart. I felt the impossibility rise up in my throat and I felt like gagging. It’s okay Daddy, I forgive you. I kept the monsters away as long as I could, and the boys won’t have their way.
I wanted to be near you for eternity, and knowing eternity was separating us was the hardest part. So I held your hand for now. That frail waxy hand. Hard to believe it was the same one that gripped me so strongly as I crossed the street as a child, or lifted me to the ceiling as I giggled obnoxiously. The same hand that had been such a source of strength for me but was now too weak to hold the cup of water beside your bed.
I never thought I would survive past the day you didn’t. Fears rung like somber church bells in my heart. You’d never see me get my license, or my high school graduation. You wouldn’t watch wearily but with support, as I fell in love…and if and when I did, the one day of my life filled with the utmost beauty passion and love, the day where all a little girl’s princess dreams come true, you wouldn’t be there to tell me I was the most beautiful girl on earth. And you wouldn’t be there to walk me down that isle of my future, to give me away to the man I loved.
As I sat beside your bed and pensively digested these frightful thoughts, you seemed to read my mind. Knowingly you reached out for me, and you told me that no matter what you would always be there. Even more so than you were in life. As comforting as the thought may seem, I didn’t want you as my guardian angel. I wanted you here, as my Father.
I remember the day I left, against my heart and will. Sitting on your bed, staring at you for what would be the last time in my lifetime. I traced my hands along your fingers, your arm and your face. Memorizing the lines that once formed the strong built man who protected me from childhood evils. You looked at me with tears in your eyes, and I knew that you were allowing my dam to break. Your struggling voice was lost inside my sobs, but words could not have expressed the emotional fog thickening in that room. I saw you wince as my grip had unintentionally tightened on your hand, yet you still returned the strength. Giving you one last hug was the hardest grievance of my lifetime, and looking into those sunken bright blue eyes as I kissed your cheek and your hand and said my last goodbye that would ever fall upon your ears.
I walked away, out the door wishing that I could run back in and crawl under the covers. To lay beside you and listen to you tell me stories like you used to. But I kept walking.
That Sunday, back at home, I woke up from a fitful disturbing sleep. Mom told me that you took your final breath only a few hours before I awoke. I just slowly nodded my head and went back up into my room. It was still just a dream to me. I fished through my memory box and dug out the locket. The beautiful heart shaped locket you gave me. I opened it up and stared at the face of my Father. The tears began to well and I had just enough time to read the inscription on the back before all my strength and hope diminished.
“We will be together again soon”
If only we had known.