Page 4 of Between Hope & Tragedy

I didn't uncross my arms and I didn't move from my spot. I didn't understand why he was holding out his arm to me, because I and my parents had parted on such bad terms, that I had every right to break it in five places if I wanted to. I let my eyes travel from his outstretched arm to his face to see if there was any sign of deception, but I couldn't find any, so I relented and took his arm with a grunt.

"It's good to have you home, Sweetheart," he said quietly and patted the top of my hand.

I rolled my eyes as he walked me into the room and straight up to my grandfather's polished, maple casket with beautiful white lining.

"Take as much time as you need," he said gently, as I let go of his arm and put my hands on the edge of the beautiful box that held only death on the inside. It was a reminder of yet another masquerade of beauty that was shattered by the realism of what it had been truly made for.

“Hi, Grandpa,” I said softly, reaching up to stroke his white hair. “I missed you. I’m sorry it took me too long to come see you. I hope you know that I’ve always loved you and always will. I’ll see you soon.”

The tears that started to fall probably made me look weaker than I felt. They weren’t solely tears of sorrow, they were tears of anger. I could have had the chance to be with him in his final moments, but because of Mom, Dad, and Mr. Spears, I ran as far as I could when the moment presented itself. Because of them I refused to come back and even see Grandpa, telling him that I would always try my best then pushing it to the back of my mind. And now it was too late. I’d never hear his gentle voice, or feel his soft, strong arms around me again. All I had with him was this moment; where he was lying in a casket void of life and looking more peaceful than I could remember.

I felt Dad’s hand on my shoulder again and I quickly wiped the tears away from my face.

“He always loved you so much, Zaydee,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

I turned to nod at Dad before I walked away from the casket and settled into the very back row of the room. He looked at me with sad eyes and shook his head as he sat down next to Mom and the priest entered the room. I was sitting next to some people I didn’t know, but it was as far away from my family as I could get, so I decided to take it and just wait for the services to be over then go back to my hotel room. I’d probably spend the whole of the two weeks shut in there as a defense mechanism against the sadness, but I really didn’t want to. I had anotherreason for coming back; not nearly as important as Grandpa, but there were questions that I needed answered.

As the priest took his place at the podium, I took a deep breath and let out a gut wrenching sob.

I’m so sorry, Grandpa.

After the services were over, my father stopped me as I was walking out the back door. He told me he would really like it if I came over for dinner that night and that Mom would too. It had taken everything inside of me not to roll my eyes, but I accepted because I really didn’t feel like going out to a restaurant, and I didn’t know if the hotel food was any good.

I did go back and change my clothes though. I didn’t want to go back to a place of broken memories in my funeral attire, no matter how appropriate it would have been. I chose a light blue sundress and a pair of white flip-flops for the occasion. I remember reading somewhere that blue was the color for stability and confidence, and that was exactly what I needed to be able to survive dinner with them.

Around 4pm that afternoon, I left the hotel. Dinner was going to be around six, but Dad had asked me to come over early so we could catch up. My knuckles were white because of how tightlyI was gripping the steering wheel, and I kept fighting down the waves of nausea that were threatening to make me sick.

This evening was definitely going to show me if I had any of that fourteen year old bravery left inside of me.

I pulled up in front of their house twenty minutes later and hopped out of the SUV. I took a deep breath, adjusted my purse on my shoulder, and walked up to the door. My finger hovered over the doorbell button for a moment.Did I really want to do this?I hadn’t come all this way for them, and I really didn’t know what good would come out of this anyway.

The choice was taken out of my hands when the front door flew open. I jumped and pulled my hand away from the doorbell, and Dad smiled sheepishly.

“I saw you coming up the walkway,” he admitted.

“Oh.”

“Come in, Zaydee,” he said, stepping back and motioning with his arm.

I nodded and walked through the open door. I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced around, realizing that not much had changed since I had left. The family pictures were still hanging on the wall in the living room; which surprised me, and they seemed to have the same old couches they bought when I was a kid.

Maybe I’ll send them some new stuff. Depending on how this goes, anyway.

“So, how have you been?” he asked, as he led the way into the living room and sat down. I decided to sit in the old rocking chair in the corner of the room and shrugged.

“Rita! Zaydee is here,” he suddenly called out.

I cringed. I didn’t expect to have to see her so quickly after walking through the door, but this was their home and I couldn’t exactly forbid her from coming into her own living room.

In she walked, a carefully blank look on her face as she went over and sat next to my father. The silence that followed her entrance was deafening. Dad awkwardly put an arm around my mother, and I looked down at my fingernails. When I started to pick the skin around them, Mom spoke up.

“Don’t do that; you know how much I hate it when you do that,” she said quietly.

I sighed loudly and dropped my hands onto my lap. Mom looked away, Dad looked sad, and I just looked annoyed. I didn’t come for a “you’re in my house, you’ll obey my rules” dinner. Truth be told, the only reason I came was for the free food and maybe a quick look around.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

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