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Forlorn |
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We
can all feel a little down at times. I wrote this for myself at a time
when I was feeling sad. The details are unimportant, suffice to say that
this piece of fiction is the result …
I
watched her walk pensively a short way along the small gravel track, her
tiny arms swaying gently by her side as she struggled over the rougher
terrain on her right. My eyes followed the direction of her gaze.
Silently, her eyes fixed on a spot ahead that only she knew, my little
girl moved across the forests grassy floor, finally easing to a halt by
a small gorse bush. A
father’s instinct to care for and protect his daughter is immense. I
have learned that recently. With her mother gone from us, Samantha was
now to get her chance to say goodbye in the way that she and my wife had
discussed. I stood there, forcing myself to keep my distance, watching
forlornly, noticing her delicate outline shake as the tears began to
fall. A nine-year-old girl, silhouetted against the evening’s
picturesque sky. I could see her lips moving in a gentle conversation
with unseen companions and my despair was complete as the sun’s last
rays shimmered and twinkled on her tears. Her words finished, she stood
there, looking upwards to a sky so magnificent that on any other
occasion would have filled me with awe. The
light clouds were thin and streaky, stretched out like ripped
cheesecloth on a pale pinkish backdrop. The underside of the clouds
glowing with an orange hew, testament to the suns presence just below
the horizon. The silent flight of the occasional bird peppered the
skyline and I watched one such creature as it moved quickly across the
sky, it’s slowly beating wings conveying it towards it’s home before
the night could throw her dark shroud over the scene. I
wondered if that bird had a family, would it be going home to a wife and
children? Would they all settle down for the evening safe in each
other’s presence, comforted by simple proximity? As I had countless
times before in the last few days I got angry. I found myself beginning
to despise the bird. Why should he have a complete family? What little
known clause in God’s infinite agreement of existence did it say that
I should lose my wife to cancer when so many others get to keep their
loved ones? Why was my daughter stood 300 meters from me, weeping
quietly to herself, whispering words of comfort and love to her deceased
mother? My
own tears began to fall again. I didn’t believe I could possibly have
any tears left, yet still they came, rolling down my cheeks as my
anguished face tried desperately to choke them back. I could not allow
Sam to see me like this, not here, not now. This was her moment, the
time when she guided the soul of her mother to the place in heaven,
which she had found on a school trip to the New Forest a few months
earlier. I
remember that day well. Karyn was not even aware of her illness at that
time. Sam had burst through the door with a look of sheer joy on her
face. We were in the kitchen and as we watched her jump down from the
bus and run through the gate, that huge smile on her face, a look that
could melt the heart of the devil himself. My pride in my beautiful
little daughter was so evident and my doting wife had slipped her arm
around my waist. Affirming our mutual love for that little girl in
unspoken words. “Mummy,
Daddy, I have seen heaven today!!” Her excited eyes moving quickly
over her mothers face, then mine as she awaited our response. Karyn
spoke first, her warm slow voice calming the room as it always had,
“then you must show Daddy and me where you found it sweetheart...
perhaps we can visit the Forest at the weekend and you can show us where
the angels play....” That
was on the Monday. On Wednesday, we both learned that Karyn had about 8
weeks to live. She
had seen the doctor, feeling run down, generally exhausted by the
day’s usual rigours. She had always been so capable, and now by
lunchtime, she was usually fatigued and in pain. We had both expected
that she would have to take antibiotics for a few weeks, I had planned
to take holiday from work, and that in a month or so everything would be
fine. When he told us it was cancer, my wife sat strong and resolute in
her chair. It was I who fought the compelling notion to faint, the
darkness of shock and fear spreading over my consciousness, sapping the
strength from my body. We had discussed things that night. Disbelief
giving way to the assurances that doctor McCleod had made that this was
no mistake. Anger followed and, to my shame, self-pity was the next ugly
emotion to writhe into the arena, it hideous black tentacles entwining
my heart and my constricting my stomach. In minutes our attitudes were
growing apart for the first time since we had met, but they were brought
back to parity by the one, truly important factor in this whole
desperate affair - Samantha. Karyn
had chosen to talk to her daughter about her situation in the forest
that weekend. We had returned to the spot where Sam had seen heaven and
we had sat there, eating a simple picnic. The
two girls in my life had gone for a walk. I will never know what
conversation transpired, but when they returned, over an hour later, my
wife was in tears and my little girl was gone. In her place stood a
shell, emotionless and thoughtful, the same pretty little face, her big
brown eyes framed by her long flowing brown hair, but those eyes had
taken on a new appearance. We
sat there for two more hours, a family cuddling and crying with
eachother in the silent wilderness. My daughter holding on to her mother
in a way that made my fragile heart cry out.
The drive home was the longest journey I had ever taken. And
now, in the diminishing light of the early evening, Samantha was stood
at the exact spot where Karyn had explained that she was going to die. I
wiped my tears with my hand as Sam turned and walked towards me. Looking
at me expectantly as she stumbled over the uneven ground. I had
forgotten about the single white balloon that I was carrying, but I
managed to regain my composure enough to move forward. Her
tear stained face smiled weakly up at mine, a look of desperate
loneliness in those sad eyes. Yet, behind the pain, I could see that
look which would surely keep me going through the coming years of
hardship and loss. In my daughter, was her mother’s strength and her
boundless love for me shone through from deep within. Without
words, the instructions clear to me, I produced a piece of card from my
inside jacket pocket and attached it to the end of the string hanging
from the balloon. Samantha took it from me, her hand moving over mine in
a gesture of pure, uncomplicated love, sending a wave of emotion through
my body, warming my heart in an instant. I
followed my daughter back to the spot by the gorse bush and we stood
side by side. Looking up at
the gateway to heaven above, Samantha released the balloon and we
watched it rise silently into the air. I took my daughter into my arms
as it sailed away, taking its message for my wife into God’s house. On
the card was a drawing of Karyn, her face bright and cheery as it had
been before she got ill. In the drawing she was wearing a long white
dress and her golden wings were spread elegantly from her shoulders,
forming a gentle arch around her vibrant halo. Beneath the picture were
the simple words written by my daughter the day after her mother was
taken from us. ‘Mummy,
play with the angels. Daddy and I will love you always.’ I
sobbed as the balloon travelled into the night sky and my daughters hug
was the most wonderful I had ever experienced. -oOo-
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