Aeviternal

1

D.e.a.t.h

5 letters, 1 syllable, 1 word, 2 vowels

50 people attended my father's funeral, it rained, like the sky was trying to sooth something inside of me that I could not just give in my father's funeral.

Sadness

I cried once, when I got the news, I already knew, he had fought and he had tried but his lungs just gave out. It's sad when your trying to live but your body just won't let you. I had stood surrounded by these people all dressed in black starring at the coffin, the man that laid there was no longer my father but a memory of some guy who kissed the pain away from my scrapes.

I had given a speech, full of words I had never used before, not one of those words holding any sentimental value between me and him, it was sort of strange, I just stood there and bullshitted this honestly sad people with words that I had written while I was under the influence of 2 1998 wine bottles and a Blunt, yet they nodded there heads in understanding but they would never understand the pinky bond with my father, I should have cried like the sky.

But I didn't.

The moment the ceremony was over, I got inside my car and blasted some radio station playing, noise drowned out my thoughts, I preferred it that way. I drove through the night, watching the city lights and the people and although it continued raining I felt relief....relief after my father had died.

In a way I didn't want him to suffer any longer, my father was tied to a bed for 5 years, I had rather seen him now like this and the long memories of late hospital nights. I parked my car infront of my small condo and got out, the black dress I wore stuck to my figure as I stepped up the stairs.

"I'm sorry about your father"

I heard a low soft voice speak, I turned around slowly to face my younger neighbor cynthia in midst age of puberty, her glasses poking at the end of her nose "I'm sorry too" I muttered, I turned around and unlocked the door, I took off my scarf and coat and slipped down the door, I puffed a breath and looked around my apartment. Rubbing my eyes slightly and half crawling to my wine cabinet to pull out one of my many bottles, I grabbed a glass and poured some inside.

I was 20 going on 56, I was currently an intern for some famous people magazine, loved the work, loved the people yet It was stressful, I walked over to my answering machine pressing the play button.

"Hey...it's jimmy...i used to work at the bakery with you.....ummm...sorry to hear about your father"

Beep

"Kataleah?....i know it's been a though week but can you call me please....we need to talk, your still my daughter"

Beep

"Hey....it's fiona....call me when you can"

Beep

"Uh...it's Steven .....look I know we haven't spoken in long and all but I heard about mr. Peterson and I couldn't contain myself.....he was a father figure.....I'm still here for you"

Beep

Silence.

I leaned by the kitchen counter, I stared down at my wine and glass and took a deep breath, my heart beat racing quickly as I could hear my own pulse. Tears rushed down my cheeks and I struggled to make my way to the living room before collapsing to the floor, I laid there sobbing, crying like I used to when dad kissed me goodnight, like I did when I fell off my bike, like I did when he got diagnosed....like I do now.