Alysha's Negativity Journal

Philip's passing words

2003:

The warmth of the room slowly faded as the quartz singing bowls hummed their final note, filling the air with a resonant, lingering vibration. Alysha, legs crossed in a meditative pose, could still feel the soothing hum vibrating through her core. It was like the energy of the universe had wrapped itself around her, as her mom, Taya, led them deeper into the stillness.

"And... take a deep breath in..." Taya's voice was calm, steady, almost melodic. "Hold your breath, send the energy up to the heavens. You are connected with cosmic energy. Feel it. Experience it. Believe it. Exhale, and relax."

The world seemed so serene, so perfect in that moment.

Then— crack. The tranquility shattered.

Alysha's eyes snapped open as her father, Philip, abruptly stopped playing the singing bowls. His hand flew to his chest, and a groan escaped his lips. Her heart jumped to her throat, the energy in the room shifting from peaceful to panicked in an instant.

"Dad!" Alysha scrambled to his side, her breath coming faster. "Dad, are you okay?" Her voice wavered, fear clawing its way into her words.

Philip's eyes, those deep blue pools that always seemed so full of life, slowly fluttered closed. "My time has come," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You mean the world to me, Alysha. As you prepare to leave for Alfea next year, remember me. Be calm. Be detached. Use the calmness inside you to help others."

"No..." Alysha's breath hitched, her chest tightening as her eyes brimmed with tears. "No, Dad, not now. Please, stay with us."

Philip's hand weakly reached for hers, a tender smile forming on his lips. "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice fading like the last note of the singing bowls.

And then, silence.

Alysha's world collapsed. The man who had been her rock, her guide, her protector, was gone. The room, which had once been filled with warmth and cosmic energy, now felt unbearably cold. She cradled her father's lifeless body in her arms, tears streaming down her face, her sobs quiet and broken.

Taya, her mother, knelt beside her, wrapping her in a fierce, comforting embrace. "Everything is going to be okay, Alysha," Taya whispered, her voice steady but thick with emotion. "He's left you his set of quartz singing bowls as an inheritance gift. You can take them to Alfea with you next year."

Alysha sniffled, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I know, Mom. I just... I just need time."

The world still spun, but for Alysha, everything had slowed. Her father's final words echoed in her mind, intertwining with the sound of the singing bowls that still seemed to reverberate in the distance.

"October 3, 2003

I never imagined that today would change everything. The meditation started just like any other—we felt connected, in tune with each other and the universe. But then, in an instant, it all fell apart.

I watched the light leave my father's eyes today. His last words are etched in my heart—telling me to be calm, detached, and to use my inner peace to help others. How can I be calm when the person who taught me that calmness is gone? How can I be detached when my heart is shattered?

And yet... there was a strange peace in his passing. As much as it hurts, it feels like this is part of something bigger, something I can't quite understand yet. Maybe that's what he meant when he talked about being connected to cosmic energy. Maybe... he's still with me, in some way. I feel like I'll hear him in the singing bowls every time I play them.

He left them for me. It's as if he knew I would need them to carry on his legacy, to find my own strength at Alfea next year. Right now, though, I just need time. Time to grieve. Time to process. Time to figure out how to move forward without him.

But deep down, I know I'll find my way. Because he believed I could. And I have to believe it too."