Okay, so first off: amazing song. AMAZING.
Enjoy. Thanks for reading. :)
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“Terrible Things” Mayday Parade
I watched as he rushed around, muttering to himself about how late he probably was. I couldn’t but let the small smile spread over my lips.
“She’ll wait,” I whispered.
It was meant to be reassuring; he turned to me; his eyes were deep in thought, as if confused, “I don’t want her to wait, dad.”
I smiled and nodded. I knew the feeling. He tried fixing his collar while trying to slip on a shoe. He lost his balance before steadying himself and running his hand through his hair. He turned to me, he was worried, it showed in his eyes.
“Nervous?” I said, my voice was starting to become shaky.
“Do I look okay?” He said, biting his lip.
I wanted to tell him then. Just like your mother. “You look great.”
His face broke out into a widespread grin. “She’ll be here any moment. You’ll meet her…” As if a second thought, he added, “Don’t embarrass me dad.”
I tried to laugh, it came out weak, but he bought it. “I’ll try my best.” I stared at my son. His dark hair falling over his forehead; his grey eyes seemed to have a ring of black on them, they shone. His lips were girly and pink. He looked so much like his mother. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
I wanted to tell him. Tell him about his mother. About all the things we did together; about how hard life was for us. I wanted to tell him that she was the most beautiful thing. I wanted to tell him that she smiled even on her last days. I wanted to tell him that my heart ached for her. That I hadn’t forgotten her. I wanted to tell him that she was my true love.
I wanted to tell him so much, but I couldn’t speak about her. She was an angel and I had never deserved her. That’s why God had taken her away; because for some reason she had loved me back…
The doorbell rang and he rushed to the door. I could see him take a deep breath before opening the door. His face lit up. I saw his grey eyes… They looked exactly how his mother’s had always seemed. In love. I glanced at the girl. She was probably nothing special. Her hair was brown and hanged limply past her shoulders. Her eyes were a dark brown color; her skin seemed shiny, as if oily. Yet, the way that my son looked at her, I knew they were in love. I knew that life had given him the love I had experienced.
And in a way, I was happy.
I was happy that he was going to experience a love like no other. That he would always smile. I was happy that he would live the life I only dreamed of. I was happy that he wasn’t going to make a mistake. I was happy that he could spend his years in her light. That he could hold her at night. That he could kiss her and brush her hair back. I was happy that they had found each other.
Yet, my heart ached.
I couldn’t help but hope that their love wasn’t doomed like mine was. I hoped that they could be together forever. I didn’t want to see my son hurting. I didn’t want him to be broken. I wanted his heart to be in one piece. I wanted that light to never leave his eyes. I wanted to shield him from the bad, from the terrible.
But who was I to deny love?
