Page 15 of Between Earth and Eternity
He chuckles. “Some of both, unfortunately, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
If I didn’t spot the tiredness lingering in his eyes, I might be convinced. I take a seat in the chair opposite the desk.
“Are you going to tell me what’s got you down? Besides the obvious of course.” He looks at me like only a father can, concern and love for his child shining through. I debate how much I want to dump on him. As a parent, I know he would listen to every word, but as a daughter, I want my dad to be proud of me, I want him to see I have learned from his example to be strong.
“It feels like going through stages of grief. Shock. Denial. Now, I’m justsoangry.” He nods along, waiting for me to go on. I clench my hands into fists, taking a deep breath. “Does that make me pathetic?” I don’t dare look at his expression, scared that I will see the truth there, that I am exactly what I think I am.
“No, Sky. You are mourning in a way, I suppose. What you’re going through, what you’re feeling, is something few will ever experience but many can relate to in some capacity.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice soft.
“Fear. Dread. Anxiety. Those aren’t new emotions. Every living person is faced with them at some point in their life. But what you need to decide, Skyler, is if you will let them control you. Will you let them weigh you down or push you forward? Can you mold your fear into courage? Your anxiety into motivation?” His words offer truth, but I don’t know how to make them work for me. The tears form again, and I try to hold them back a little longer.
“I know this is difficult, but I also know you can get through this,” he adds.
My father’s words have carried significance to not only me but his students for years. I am grateful he has always been open about his thoughts, especially with me. It’s why our bond over history, music, and books is so strong. We are both searcherswho thrive on discovering words to bring us knowledge and comfort.
“Thank you, Dad.”
He stands, moving around the desk, and I stand to meet him as he pulls me into a tight hug. “Of course. I’m going to miss you so much, but I am so thrilled for you, my darling daring daughter.”
I squeeze him tighter. “I’ve been taking my frustration out on Elliot today. I feel horrible. I’ve never seen El so resentful, but these are unprecedented times; it isn’t fair of me to expect him to know what to do or how to feel,” I say, more to myself.
My dad pulls away from the embrace to look me in the eye. “I’m sure he’s feeling all the same things you are, Sky.” He smiles. “And he’ll do anything to make you happy. He always has.” The words hit like a punch to the heart. “We are all processing in our own ways. ”
How fortunate am I to have so many people who care for me like they all do? My days on Earth are coming to an end, but my love for my family will never fade.
But I won’t cry for yesterday, there’s an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
“Ordinary World,” Duran Duran
Elliot has already left for the day by the time I return to my work station. I don’t waste a second before leaving to find him and apologize.
I should have sought out my dad’s wisdom sooner, but despair blinded me to logic. That’s true for all of us in some way or another. Hopelessness often steals reason.
There’s no answer at Elliot’s door on my first knock, so I do it again, louder this time. After another moment, there’s movement behind the door before he pulls it open, his golden curls askew, eyes heavy.
“Were you sleeping?” I ask.
He rubs his eyes. “I haven’t slept well the last couple of nights.” I didn’t notice it before, but the dark circles are prominent.
“So you decided to leave work early to take a nap?” I say with a smile, trying to coax one out of him, but he only yawns in response. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” He steps aside for me to come in. El’s home is much like my own, with the living room and kitchen on the main level and the bedrooms upstairs. I set my bag down and sit cross-legged on one of the couches like I’ve done a thousand times before.
The cushions on the other couch are ruffled and slightly sunken. He must have been sleeping there before I woke him.
“El.”
He sits across from me, eyebrows raised in reply. I regret hurting his feelings, but he hurt mine too. Neither of us meant to wound the other, that I know without a doubt. He continues to sit in silence. Elliot not talking is one thing. Not talking tomeis another.
“El, I’m sorry.” He folds his arms. “I know you were trying to make things better by trying to stay lighthearted and encouraging, but I wish you could understand that it’s the last thing I need right now.”
He inhales deeply, attempting to smooth down his mane. “I’m sorry too. This is a lot for you to process. I get it,” he replies.
I shake my head fervently. “It’s not that, El. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but maybe . . .” I take a deep breath and find my courage. “Maybe you were taking out what you were feeling on me as well.”
