He looked at me.
I looked at him.
Just then, I felt a tear going down from my eye socket to my cheek and so forth. I remembered the good ol' days, when we both were younger. We would go on numerous adventures, we would eat out. We would live proper lives, funny lives. We loved each other but it's over now.
Now his cold, dead stare only haunts me.
"Ma, where are ya'?"
"He died 2 days ago and I'm at his funeral," I replied.
"Who? What?"
I hung up and I continued to sob near him. I felt terrible. I brought this on him. I pressured him too much. This was too much for him to handle, he was 87, after all. His bones creaked, he took numerous pills. I was a crummy daughter to let this happen to him.
"C'mon, dad. You need to get a little more shake in your life. Get off this bed this instant and follow me!" I said.
"Darling, I don't feel well. I'd prefer to stay inside today," he pleaded.
"It'll be fun. You'll miss out and you don't want that, do you?" I questioned.
"Fine, honey," he replied.
The car ride back from the countryside was far too dangerous. We had to leave Auntie's farm early since the rain started to fall quite heavily from the sky.
I lost control of the car.
I used to experience emotions as diverse as a peacock's set of feathers.
I now only feel regret. |