The Pacifist [COMPLETED]

The Necessary Path to Peace

Rachel

She found her father in the basement where he had built a state of the art, home cinema. Rachel was grateful that her mother was away at a retreat to, 'rejuvenate her nervous system.'

"Dad?" Her father looked over his shoulder, barely able to peer over the top of the plush, leather recliner.

"Hi, I thought you were out," he said.

Rachel clasped her hands in front of her. "I was in the shed." She didn't elaborate, wanting him to get out his concern and gentle lecture before telling him the good news. No reaction. "I've started painting. For a few weeks now."

He stood and went to her to search her face. "When?" he seemed bothered by the fact that she had been able to sneak into the shed without him noticing.

"While you and mother were out. Sometimes I'd sneak in before you'd wake up." Those days, she had to forgo meals if she hadn't packed a lunch to avoid being caught going in and out of the shed.

"And... you're alright?"

Rachel nodded, trying to smile as convincingly as possible. She was alright, yes, but the process she had put herself through had been exhausting. She felt raw. But she felt alive. "Would you like to see what I've been working on?"

Her father nodded, too shocked to speak, and let her lead him through the house and out the back door. They crossed the garden and she opened the door to the shed, stepping to the side to let him walk in first.

Rachel had prepared a stool for him to sit while he looked upon her work. In the past, he had been her biggest supporter and admirer and would spend hours staring at what she'd created. He would say that he couldn't believe he had raised such a perceptive and talented person and was fascinated by the fact that his daughter thought and felt in colors and textures. But he didn't sit, and went straight to Bargaining, the piece she had struggled the most with. He touched his fingers to the faces she had switched and let out a strangled sob.

"Oh, honey..."

"I don't wish I was dead anymore, Dad, but I do wish I could switch places with her. But look at this one." Rachel wanted him to see the whole story before he felt he should worry for her mental health. "This, is Acceptance."

Her father stepped back then and looked at the five pieces as a whole. "The stages of grief?"

Rachel nodded, beaming and pleased her story came through. "Yes, exactly."

Her father's eyes were red with unshed tears. "This... is so beautiful, Rachel. What a stunning way to honor your sister, your life, and your art. I'm so unbelievably proud of you." He pulled Rachel into his arms and squeezed her so tightly, she could hardly breathe.

"Dad?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Please don't worry about me anymore. I promise I'll be okay."

She felt his chin rubbing against the top of her head from nodding. "I know you will be."