A Fathers Smile

 It’s all going to be fine. I’m here with you, go back to sleep.

Mothers' imaginary words clamber around in my mind, keeping me from sleeping the early morning away.

If only mother, the ghostly voice drumming inside my mind, were speaking the truth. 

I try to imagine her, sitting beside me, snuggled underneath the thick duvet thrown upon my bed. Whispering her love for me. Tucking me in…

Imagining such beauty is pointless. What does it accomplish? Nothing. She is dead, and always will be. My daydreams only taunt me, re-opening painful memories that I have so carefully chosen to close. 

I don't want to remember her. 

And I don't want to remember what my family used to be.

What it...could be. 

It could be something good, something beautiful. But it isn't, and I know it's all Fathers fault. 

Or is it mine? After all, I’m the one in bed, loathing the remains of my torn-apart family. 

It's all too complicated, and it's been like that since the person holding our family together left;  

Mother. 

Tears burst from my eyes, and I don't even try to stop them. I will allow myself to mourn, but just this once. Just for today. After all, it is my least favorite day of the year. I will allow myself room to be sad.

The day we visit mothers grave. The day I see my father and have to hear about his new family; his new wife, his new daughter, which might as-well be named ‘my replacement.’ The idea of my disloyal father drives me to anger in seconds. He abandoned me. He abandoned my older brother. He even betrayed Mother; Going off and remarrying. 

He ruined everything. 

You must forgive people, Fern. That's what God calls us to do. 

There is mothers soft, fluffy voice again. The things she said in the past haunting me, following me...helping me. 

Helping me? That doesn't sound right. But I still re-hear all the past advice she gave me, and I tend to devour it like its new words spilling from Mother herself. Sometimes I find myself thinking Mother is talking to me telepathically from heaven….

Maybe I’m going mad. I have heard stories of grief driving people to the brink of insanity.

Morning calls! Up, up, up you get!

Alright Mum, I’m getting up. I remember the time she said that to me, and when it wasn't just my mind replaying her voice to taunt me. 

I had refused to get out of bed. A storm ravaged outside, and the sound of pattering rain on a rusted tin roof was lulling me back into slumber…

Mother wouldn't allow it. “You have school to do, things to learn, people to talk to, and the world to explore!”

Oh, mother. 

More tears leak from my puffy eyes. 

“Great, I’m going to look like a freak in front of dad!” I mutter, to nobody in particular. 

I rush through the day, trying to forget about where I have to be this afternoon...pretending today is a normal day. 

But I can only live in oblivion to reality for so long. 

I’m shaken back into the real world by the roaring noise of my fathers car. 

Here to collect me. 

Bidding hurried farewells to my Aunt, in whose house I live in, I rush out the door. 

Hating that the moment had arrived. 

It will end. Just get through it. 

I let a hint of a smile appear on my face. Mother is, strangely, with me, and the thought empowers me to swing myself into the backseat of my fathers car. 

“Hello” I croak, barely able to hide the resentment in my voice. 

My brother- Adan- sits in the front seat, looking just as uncomfortable as myself.

For a moment, I force myself to stuff all the anger that I hold towards my brother down, far enough that It will hold at bay for a few moments.

“Hi, Adan.”

“Afternoon, Fern.”

Cold, meaningless, emotionless words. But they were words none-the-less. 

“I-im sorry.” Adan blurts out, after a stretched out silence. 

Something wedges in my throat. Tears? Bile? I’m not sure. But I choke, and go silent. 

Sorry?

That wasn't going to fix anything. It wasn't going to change the fact that he left me, moved away at the first chance, leaving me without anyone but an old aunt to live with. 

“OK.” I manage to spit out. 

We arrive. I stumble from the car, and begin to sprint towards my mothers grave. Eagre to put some distance between me, and my family. 

I reach her in a manner of seconds, having tread that way a million times before. 

Almost always at a running pace. 

I run my fingers over the words carefully engraved into the cross-shaped tombstone:

 

                                                             Auburn Gretch 

                                                               Born- 1975 

                                                               Died- 2018

                                        A mother that will always be remembered

 

The words don’t even begin to capture what a perfect person she was. But I’m not sure any words could ever do the job properly. So I stuff the thought aside. 

Adan and Father finally catch up, rubbing their arms in an attempt to block the chilled winter wind. 

I love the cold! The heat is too hot for me.

Mothers words bounce around my skull. 

“She loved winter.” Father says, in a bored voice. Almost reading my thoughts.

“How can you act like you don't care?” I whisper, angrily. Hoping the words hurt him. 

But Father keeps his cool diminuer, barely flinching. 

“I do. I care a-lot.” He mumbles. 

Don’t judge a book by its cover, that's what I say!

She had loved that quote….and hated when people judged others. 

I refrain whatever I was about to say next. Instead, hoping that me and Father could figure out how to love eachother again. I guess a good start would be to stop judging him….like a book cover.

“Thanks, Mum.” I mumble to myself. 

Silence engulfs the grave-yard, as we stare at the small patch of concrete.

Finally, Father clears his throat. A signal, telling us of our departure. 

I pause, I want to make peace with him...we can’t go on like this any longer. But, I don’t know what to say. Words tumble around my mind, aching to be said, but my mouth doesn't move. 

Instead, my legs do.

They carry me over to my fathers side, so close that I can see the grey whiskers on his stubbled chin.

Up close, he towers above me, and I have to crane my neck to look at his face properly. 

Sorry can go a long way.

Mother was wise.

“I’m sorry. Sorry for blocking you out. Sorry for being angry at you. I’m...sorry. If we can’t resume what we used to have, then let's at-least try and be friends again. Mother would have wanted that.”

Father seems taken-aback by my sudden change, and honestly, so am I. Minutes ago I was hating him….now…

My train of thought stops dead in its tracks, as my Fathers lips curl upwards, and he allows his face to scrunch up into a big grin. 

I don't remember the last time he smiled in-front of me, it had been years, surely. 

That smile said more than he ever could have, and I suddenly found myself hugging him tightly. 

“Let’s get going, we can talk somewhere….nicer.” My father says, almost cheerily. 

My mind races, the simple word ‘talk’ sends chills down my spine.

 Me and him? Talk?

 It sounded too fairytale-ish to be true. I thought we hated each other? 

But as I turn the past few minutes over in my twirling mind, I realise we had just gotten used to being separate. We had built a wall between us two….

And my Fathers smile from above, had brought that wall crumbling to the floor.