She was lost-desperately lost. She was left without a mother and her father had broken her heart in his own strange way.
And then, she met him. The boy with the kind smile and the soft eyes. The boy who stole her heart. The boy who could speak wit...
The sorrow inundated her. She drowned in the swampy lakes and opened her eyes only to see a glassy reflection staring back at her. She would breathe only to find water fill her lungs. This was her death. Her death was slow and painful-as much as she wished for a quick death, it refused to embrace her! And so she lived-for death had no need for her. Perhaps, it never would.
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Mae Parker's funeral was on May 16th, 1914. It was a gorgeous day-the sun was resplendent and the flowers seemed brighter than usual. The birds chirped songs of joy and happiness-and Mae's husband found some comfort in the beauty of the day, knowing Mae would be received into the arms of the Lord on this gorgeous day. His child also observed the beauty of the day. But unlike her father, her thoughts revolved around the cruel irony of the day. The world was alive and her mother-not quite yet thirty three-was dead! How strange the world seemed to be.
The funeral ended and both father and daughter were surrounded by people expressing their condolences. Charles graciously accepted these condolences, but Petula could only stand in silence, watching the people through tear stained eyes. They were all alive-all happy and radiant-and Mama was in the ground, a lifeless corpse dressed in pink satin. Tears rolled down Petula's rosy cheeks as these thoughts continued to manifest and she quickly left her father's side, so as not to demonstrate her grief in front of the other guests.
"Tula!" cried a familiar voice. Petula ignored it as she began walking away from the crowd. "Tula, honey! Wait!" Petula stood still for a moment, but refused to look back. Without warning, she felt the touch of a hand upon her shoulder. "It's me, honey. Mrs. Clark." The same Mrs. Clark who had given her mother popularity-who had given Mama happiness-who had given her life. Petula turned around and embraced the woman-the woman who had grown to be more than just a family friend-and began to sob like a lost child. Mrs. Clark, surprised by this sudden outburst of emotion, only held the girl. "Oh, Tula! I'm so sorry."
"I know you are," Tula whispered, still locked in an embrace. "You're not like all the others here. They just come to save face, but they couldn't care less about Mama. But you? You defended her and loved her until the very end. And I will always be grateful to you, Mrs. Clark." The woman could say nothing in return for she knew that Petula spoke with only sincerity. Oh, how she wished to comfort the poor girl! Left motherless at such a tender age-for she was no longer a child, but not yet a woman! And to have no mother during this difficult transition was to experience the pain of loneliness. But Mrs. Clark would not allow the hand of loneliness to deflower the girl.
"I shall always be with you, my darling girl! For I know loneliness-and I will forbid it from entering your heart. There will not be a day when you shall ever feel lonely, my sweet child." Petula could only sob in response. Her heart seemed to bloom into a flower at such words-for to her they were a promise, a comfort. They were a shining light that promised safety at the end of a dark, desolate road. A light that she could not yet reach for she only stood at the beginning of the road-and it would take years for her to traverse it.
