How To Survive Love

2 - Should it be Hard to Mourn?

Summer of 1928 - Dresden

Crestfallen, my family and I gazed our attention towards the gravestone. The sadness infiltrated the air greatly, weakening my body so much I could not look up into the glum of the sky. My mother had been affected even more, as this man was the light of her dark, lonely tunnel she had lived in for so long. My sister's blonde, bright pigtails hung low in black hair ties, just like the lips on her face as she weeped beneath her tears.

But even though I stood right in front of my father, who was buried six feet underground, I couldn't cry. I wanted to cry. I wanted to mourn in sorrow. I wanted to exhibit feelings of love towards my father, the person who raised me. I wanted to put the bitter feelings at rest and move on.

But I couldn't. After all those moments of anguish and hate.

........................................................................

'What happened to my son?' My father shouted impatiently, his eyes giving a deathly stare.

I stayed silent.

'Huh! Why do you write all this stupid shit?' He waved my journal turbulently, expecting a reaction.

I continued to stay silent.

'This will make you learn.' Hurriedly, he threw my diary into the fire, and the crackling sound of burning paper occupied the room as the fire mercilessly destroyed, leaving no remains.

My father stomped away fuming while I stood there with tears welling up in my eyes.

I had enough.

I couldn't live with this anymore.