I stood at the railing and stared downward. The water below was so still that I wondered how it could guarantee death.
I contemplated the past few months, the amount of pain I’d been through had been almost unbearable. In fact, it had been unbearable. I stared out at the distance at the still lake. How could the lake remain calm next to this much pain? Was there any such thing as pathetic fallacy outside of books? Well, I knew this was pathetic and recently it had felt like hope was one big fallacy.
I started to think of the funeral, the amount of people, the tension in the air despite the kind words. The uncomfortable feeling that things would never be the same. I was more than aware of that. I knew things would never be the same. Fact of the matter is I didn’t understand life anymore and I knew I could not carry on as normal. There would always be a weight on my back that I could never shift.
The weird thing about it is, I had always thought of life as a beautiful thing. I think that’s why I had lived the way I had but my fatal mistake came in not noticing when I’d crossed my own boundaries. I was scared to settle down, I knew deep down I was not stable enough and that it was a recipe for disaster. What kind of father only tells his daughter he loves her after he has stumbled in at one o’clock in the morning stinking of Jack Daniels? Sometimes you don’t always choose the things you love most and although I loved her more than anything I still chose Jack Daniels.
Although stood here it was difficult, I had to think of the good times. I had caught my wife practicing her smile in the mirror. I remember that same smile on my daughters face when she first met Santa Clause at the Christmas festival. I remember her first (sort of) word. I remember her tentative first steps holding on to a trolley. I remember my own mother telling me I would always have a home there and that she loved me. I remember my daughter crying into my arms as I told her I wasn’t mad I was just worried and feeling that unconditional need to protect her.
Ouch.
Remembering that last one took me back a few steps, staring down again at the lake I could imagine the pain surging through her heart already. Everything in me told me to go back, to do better, and to be stronger but I couldn't right now. One thing I’d learned is that sometimes pain is there to teach you a lesson and sometimes it is just there like an appendix with the on-going potential to burst.
I had been through almost every emotion a human being possibly could. I had been mad at my family, I had been mad at the entire town, I had been mad at God. I had most of all been mad at myself. We have different ways of acting when it comes to life changing and my first was anger. Actually, perhaps anger isn’t the right word. Maybe it was misdirected despair. I don't know or care anymore.
I had been through depression, I had counted the many reasons I should be depressed every night. My dreams were haunted, my life was haunted. I couldn’t turn anywhere without there being a reminder of just how desperately miserable I am. Every morning was like head butting a brick wall, a brick wall ten foot high. It hurt to breathe as it seemed pointless. I didn’t deserve the air.
After depression came complete numbness, which in its own way was a relief but in others it was even worse. I was impervious to the help offered by others. I would sit in the same chair all day just staring out the window not allowing anything to break my concentration. I knew I was hurting everyone around me but there was nothing I could do. Every move was an ache in my muscle that reminded me there was blood pumping around my body and thus reminding me I had a heart, and that it was breaking.
I put one hand on the railing and despite it being a mildly warm day the metal bar still left a chill on my palm. Perhaps it was nature’s way of warning me to stand back. In my pocket I took out a picture of my daughter, I had enough time in the world here to stand and think. She was my world and the one thing that made it hurt to stand here but I just needed to feel something, anything. The picture I had was her most recent high school picture. The longer I looked at it the more I convinced myself I could see pain in her eyes. She had an endearing smile, a snaggle tooth on the right side of her mouth she’d had since first school. She begged for braces but I was always hesitant as that snaggle tooth had become a part of her and every time she smiled it was a reminder that she was my little girl.
I remember her asking me about heaven, she had a fascination with the supernatural so I had told her I’d let her know. She smiled at this and I held her close. She had always had a huge capacity for love.
When you watch your family get older and change it is a very difficult thing, it’s difficult to keep a marriage going and keep it strong and you often worry you’re staying out of comfort rather than love. Standing here I knew I loved my wife. Despite the arguments and the poison we spat at each other, I loved every single thing about her and I ached at the thought of her in pain. But I needed this. Seeing my daughter grow up and become distant was difficult, she was either erratic or withdrawn or somehow both. It took me to now to realise she had a penchant for long sleeved shirts and I worked out why. I blamed myself for that, I blamed myself for everything.
I thought back on everything in my life, from my very first memory of my mother reading me a Noah’s ark book. I thought of first school crying because my first milk tooth had fallen out and I didn’t understand why and I had visions of having to wear dentures like my grandfather. My middle school years where I had my first crush, cringing at the memory of that first awkward kiss. My high school and college years where I really blossomed and I think that was where my thirst for life began. Maybe I reached my peak too soon and I had lived the rest of my life trying to get that back whilst also slowly losing hope that I would. I remember my wedding and although it was one of the best days of my life, the adrenaline was ten that of a man doing bungee jump. Bungee jump. Jump.
I took my hand off the railing and held the other side of the picture of my daughter. “I’m so sorry” I said. “I wish things could be different but they aren’t. Please forgive me.”
And with that, I knelt down to pick up the urn and scattered her ashes over the railings and placed the picture next to the flowers below me. I reached into my other pocket and pulled out a note “To my beautiful girl, I hope you are now free from pain. Please tell me what heaven is like. Love, dad”
I contemplated the past few months, the amount of pain I’d been through had been almost unbearable. In fact, it had been unbearable. I stared out at the distance at the still lake. How could the lake remain calm next to this much pain? Was there any such thing as pathetic fallacy outside of books? Well, I knew this was pathetic and recently it had felt like hope was one big fallacy.
I started to think of the funeral, the amount of people, the tension in the air despite the kind words. The uncomfortable feeling that things would never be the same. I was more than aware of that. I knew things would never be the same. Fact of the matter is I didn’t understand life anymore and I knew I could not carry on as normal. There would always be a weight on my back that I could never shift.
The weird thing about it is, I had always thought of life as a beautiful thing. I think that’s why I had lived the way I had but my fatal mistake came in not noticing when I’d crossed my own boundaries. I was scared to settle down, I knew deep down I was not stable enough and that it was a recipe for disaster. What kind of father only tells his daughter he loves her after he has stumbled in at one o’clock in the morning stinking of Jack Daniels? Sometimes you don’t always choose the things you love most and although I loved her more than anything I still chose Jack Daniels.
Although stood here it was difficult, I had to think of the good times. I had caught my wife practicing her smile in the mirror. I remember that same smile on my daughters face when she first met Santa Clause at the Christmas festival. I remember her first (sort of) word. I remember her tentative first steps holding on to a trolley. I remember my own mother telling me I would always have a home there and that she loved me. I remember my daughter crying into my arms as I told her I wasn’t mad I was just worried and feeling that unconditional need to protect her.
Ouch.
Remembering that last one took me back a few steps, staring down again at the lake I could imagine the pain surging through her heart already. Everything in me told me to go back, to do better, and to be stronger but I couldn't right now. One thing I’d learned is that sometimes pain is there to teach you a lesson and sometimes it is just there like an appendix with the on-going potential to burst.
I had been through almost every emotion a human being possibly could. I had been mad at my family, I had been mad at the entire town, I had been mad at God. I had most of all been mad at myself. We have different ways of acting when it comes to life changing and my first was anger. Actually, perhaps anger isn’t the right word. Maybe it was misdirected despair. I don't know or care anymore.
I had been through depression, I had counted the many reasons I should be depressed every night. My dreams were haunted, my life was haunted. I couldn’t turn anywhere without there being a reminder of just how desperately miserable I am. Every morning was like head butting a brick wall, a brick wall ten foot high. It hurt to breathe as it seemed pointless. I didn’t deserve the air.
After depression came complete numbness, which in its own way was a relief but in others it was even worse. I was impervious to the help offered by others. I would sit in the same chair all day just staring out the window not allowing anything to break my concentration. I knew I was hurting everyone around me but there was nothing I could do. Every move was an ache in my muscle that reminded me there was blood pumping around my body and thus reminding me I had a heart, and that it was breaking.
I put one hand on the railing and despite it being a mildly warm day the metal bar still left a chill on my palm. Perhaps it was nature’s way of warning me to stand back. In my pocket I took out a picture of my daughter, I had enough time in the world here to stand and think. She was my world and the one thing that made it hurt to stand here but I just needed to feel something, anything. The picture I had was her most recent high school picture. The longer I looked at it the more I convinced myself I could see pain in her eyes. She had an endearing smile, a snaggle tooth on the right side of her mouth she’d had since first school. She begged for braces but I was always hesitant as that snaggle tooth had become a part of her and every time she smiled it was a reminder that she was my little girl.
I remember her asking me about heaven, she had a fascination with the supernatural so I had told her I’d let her know. She smiled at this and I held her close. She had always had a huge capacity for love.
When you watch your family get older and change it is a very difficult thing, it’s difficult to keep a marriage going and keep it strong and you often worry you’re staying out of comfort rather than love. Standing here I knew I loved my wife. Despite the arguments and the poison we spat at each other, I loved every single thing about her and I ached at the thought of her in pain. But I needed this. Seeing my daughter grow up and become distant was difficult, she was either erratic or withdrawn or somehow both. It took me to now to realise she had a penchant for long sleeved shirts and I worked out why. I blamed myself for that, I blamed myself for everything.
I thought back on everything in my life, from my very first memory of my mother reading me a Noah’s ark book. I thought of first school crying because my first milk tooth had fallen out and I didn’t understand why and I had visions of having to wear dentures like my grandfather. My middle school years where I had my first crush, cringing at the memory of that first awkward kiss. My high school and college years where I really blossomed and I think that was where my thirst for life began. Maybe I reached my peak too soon and I had lived the rest of my life trying to get that back whilst also slowly losing hope that I would. I remember my wedding and although it was one of the best days of my life, the adrenaline was ten that of a man doing bungee jump. Bungee jump. Jump.
I took my hand off the railing and held the other side of the picture of my daughter. “I’m so sorry” I said. “I wish things could be different but they aren’t. Please forgive me.”
And with that, I knelt down to pick up the urn and scattered her ashes over the railings and placed the picture next to the flowers below me. I reached into my other pocket and pulled out a note “To my beautiful girl, I hope you are now free from pain. Please tell me what heaven is like. Love, dad”
