DAY DREAM

CHAPTER ONE

    Have you ever found yourself trapped in the depths of a dream, desperately yearning for it to become your reality? There are moments when I wish I could escape to another realm, where all my fantasies come alive. A place where my parents still exist, their warm hugs enveloping me with love. But alas, fantasies only exist in the realms of imagination.

As the St LOUIS high finally embarked on their much-awaited holidays, I found myself journeying towards my grandmother's cottage in Cornelia. It had been so long since I had heard from her, especially since the untimely passing of my parents. She was the only close relative I had left, my mother's mother, and I knew that my loss had been equally devastating for her. Such is life, though, and we must carry on, no matter how heavy the burden may be.

Arriving at the cottage, with my bags by my side, I disembarked from the bus, longing for the embrace and comforting welcome that was now absent. A tinge of disappointment washed over me as I approached the door and lightly knocked. Taking a moment to observe my surroundings, the immense size of the cottage struck me, though it seemed to have lost its once inviting warmth. As the door creaked open, I was greeted by my grandmother, her face worn with grief, her eyes swollen, and her hair disheveled. Suppressing my own disappointment, I offered her a tight smile and proceeded to carry my bags inside. Grateful for even the slightest physical contact, I placed my bags down and attempted to reach out for a hug. However, her sorrowful gaze met mine, and it was evident that the weight of our shared loss had taken its toll. With a heavy heart, I withdrew, silently heading towards my room.

Stepping into my room, time seemed to momentarily stand still. Everything appeared exactly as I had left it. My bed, untouched, still held the remnants of my mother's playfulness, her laughter echoing through the walls as we spent nights playing games, sharing stories, and sharing goodnight kisses on my cheek.

And suddenly, it felt like yesterday, as if the accident which claimed their lives had occurred mere moments ago. It had been a month since I lost my parents, and three agonizing weeks had passed since their somber funeral. Their presence and memories lingered in this room, offering solace in the midst of my heartache. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision as the overwhelming reality of their absence flooded my senses. How I longed for their comforting presence, their guidance, and their unconditional love.

Wiping away the tears, I forced myself to regain composure and headed towards the bathroom to cleanse my tear-stained face. Staring into the mirror, I took a deep breath and attempted to gather my strength. Wrapping myself in a towel, I made my way back to the place I had left my bag, unraveling my comfort from within its depths. Selecting a plain shirt and baggy trousers, I sought refuge in the familiar embrace of my comfort zones. As I dressed, I carefully placed my travel bag in its designated spot and hung up the towel, symbolizing a newfound resolve to face the challenges that lay ahead.

Emerging from my room, I made my way towards the kitchen, determined to lend a hand to my grieving grandmother. However, upon reaching her side, all I could see was her anguished face, reminding me of the times when she would turn and kiss my forehead with affection and tenderness. Shaking off the bittersweet memory, I stood tall and asked with genuine concern, "Do you need any help?" She softly shook her head and replied, "No, please go to the dining room. I will take care of serving the food." Nodding in understanding, I made my way to the designated dining area and settled into a chair, anxiously waiting for her to join me.

As the minutes ticked by, silence enveloped the room, only broken by the clinking of cutlery against the plates. Unspoken grief hung heavy in the air, an unspoken bond that tied our hearts in sorrow. Though words were absent, the warmth of our presence filled the room, each bite of food a testament to our shared pain and the resilience that bound us together.

In this moment of vulnerability, uncertainty shrouded my outlook on life, causing me to question the very essence of existence. Yet, amidst the darkest days of mourning and loss, there remained a sliver of hope, a flickering flame within my heart that whispered, "Keep going, for love and strength will prevail."

And as I swallowed the last morsel of food, glanced at my grandmother sitting across the table, and offered a tentative smile, I vowed to honor the memories of my parents, to cherish the love they left behind, and to navigate this newfound journey of healing with grace and resilience.

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