Funeral In The Sky

Chapter 4: Unloved

The three-hour drive to the cemetery is filled with silence. I'm gazing out the window the entire time, and looking at the trees that we pass by, my thoughts travel somewhere far again.

I am brought back to a time when everything was still different... to a time long gone, to a life worth forgetting.

This town that I'm currently living is not the beginning of my story. I had existed someplace else, to a town that gave me life, and the same one that shattered me to pieces.

I was born to the Chase family. My great grandfather, Adolfo Chase was an orphan who strived hard to put up his own small business in order to escape poverty. That business prospered and eventually made the Chase family one of the richest families in our town.

When my great grandfather died, the business was passed down to his two daughters, my grandmother Efiana and Aunt Mathilda. Since Aunt Mathilda never married, the duty was passed down to my father. And time shall come that the duty of carrying out my great grandfather's legacy will be passed down to me.

But that will never happen anymore. Because in an unfortunate twist of fate, I had awfully fallen from grace.

I was told that when my mother was still pregnant with me my father wished she would give birth to a baby boy. Apparently, that didn't happen. So when I was finally born my father got extremely disappointed.

Our former maid said that in the hospital on the day that I was born, my father never carried me in his arms even though my grandmother insisted he should, and was only concerned about my mother's recovery. But when I asked my mother about this, she told me to never believe in other people's gossips especially about something that was quite farfetched. She continued by recounting to me how much my father loved me. She said that my father would come home hurriedly just so he could cuddle me, that he would always bring all sort of new stuff for me when I was still a baby. And then she showed me a photograph of my father standing next to my crib.

In the end I believed her since she was my mother after all. And about the maid who told me that story? I never saw her again.

But days passed by and I realized the maid was probably telling me the truth because my father's cold treatment toward me became more evident.

He rarely talked to me and if ever he did, it would be by reprimanding me for being clumsy or for telling me to stop watching TV.

My mother on the other hand loved me so much. She treated me like a real princess by buying me all kinds of dolls and dresses. And since she was a housewife, she had all the time in the world to play with me. I owned a cooking set which I got for Christmas and we would pretend to fry a pancake or bake a cake with it. And when my father was away, she would let me in the kitchen to watch her bake real cakes.

Slowly, I began to wonder why my father hated me. Had I done something wrong to him? Would the day ever come when I could finally feel how it's like to be loved by my father?

I could still remember clearly a time when he made me feel how much he despised me. And that time too, I finally had my questions answered.

He came home from work one afternoon to find me in my mother's room. I was holding a piece of cloth in my little hands. A small basin filled with water was sitting on the bedside table. I was about to put the cloth on my mother's forehead since she was having a fever that time when my father entered the room and angrily snatched it from my hand and yelled at me.

"What are you doing here in your mother's room? I told you not to play here!" He threw the cloth to the basin.

"I wasn't playing Daddy. Mommy is sick."

Upon hearing this, my father rushed to my mother's side and worriedly touched her forehead with the back of his palm.

“Katrina, you have a fever. Let's get you to the hospital. You should have given me a call. I would have come home immediately."

"I'm fine, Henry. It's just fatigue. Besides, our little princess was taking care of me." My mother said weakly, and then looked at me with loving eyes.

"This would make her feel better daddy. Mommy had done this before when I was sick." I took the cloth from the basin.

"Enough! It's all your fault she's sick. Go to your room now."

"But Daddy, I wanna take care of Mommy."

"Take care of her? How can you when you almost got her killed! So stay away from her because I don't want that to happen again."

"I don't understand Daddy. What did I do?” I asked my father, completely oblivious of what he meant but my hands were shaking and tears were threatening to fall now.

My father was about to answer me when my mother grabbed his hand. Despite being weak due to her illness, she seemed very angry at my father.

"Henry, how can you say such terrible things to your child? She is just a kid." My mother said angrily and then she looked at me. "Go to your room sweetheart. Your father and I need to talk."

Tears were starting to blur my vision, but I did as I was told. With a heavy heart, I rushed out of the door. But when I was about to round the corner, I overheard something that made me stop.

"Henry, do you not love your child?"

"You know the reason why, Katrina." My father said coldly.

"It was never her fault. How many times do I need to tell you that?"

"She endangered your life! You almost died trying to give birth to that brat! How is that not her fault!"

I was five years old. Was hearing such horrible fact healthy for a five-year-old? I didn't know. And honestly, I didn't even understand the true meaning of what my father said until years later. But my father's angry voice yelling at my mother like that and my mother's uncontrollable sobs that followed were enough for me to feel bad about myself.

Finally, the tears that were threatening to fall awhile ago had found their way out of my eyes and I ran. I didn't want to go to my room so I ran downstairs. I wanted to get out of the house. I didn't know where I was going but I wanted to run as far as I could.  I was crying uncontrollably like a baby and I kept on running until I came across a tree. I threw myself on the grass and continued sobbing loudly. I only stopped when some weird kid about my age came up to me...

Shelly's voice pulls me back to the present moment.

My mind is disoriented for a couple of seconds after travelling for miles to the past so I didn't understand what she said immediately and had to ask her.

"What?"

"We're here,” she says again, motioning to the path ahead of us. And there in front of me I finally see what she meant. A metal sign is placed to the side of the road and it reads "Welcome to Green Meadows"

I'm back at my old town. Finally, after several years, I will step foot to its soil again.