Why do I always come home from work to find this child on the floor doing something?
" Janice...! Jesus, why are you on the floor?"I inquire, not expecting to get an answer. "The radio is on but that's just static you know. Do you like how it sounds?"
She looks up with her beautiful, big , brown eyes, full of excitement .
" Daddy it's mama! She's talking to me , she's speaking now! "
" Janice, baby - " I say in a low voice.
" Hey mama . I'm ok and daddy is here now ."
" Janice... " I try again.
" Daddy you can hear mama talking to you , so say hello back."
" Janice, please !" I say in a harsher tone than I intended; I lowered my voice to explain again. She's quiet now but the static on the radio from an inactive station is still going. I shut it off.
" Your mother is gone. God loved her so so much that He didn't want her to suffer anymore. She's not coming back to live with us but , hopefully, we'll see her in heaven. Understand...?" I can feel my body trembling . Janice tilts her head down and I can see tears dripping down her cheeks and pink vest onto her crossed legs.
I go on my knees and cup her face in my hands. I pull her into my chest for her to cry on me. Her screams of sorrowful agony are muffled by my work shirt. Man ,this my favourite shirt , now it's got snot all over it. But now is not the time to complain. I love my daughter !
I begin to cry as well. I no longer give a crap about my shirt and I let all of my anger, sadness and all of my other indecipherable emotions out. I expel these emotions via the tiny, wet and salty capsules that brink at eyes and stream down my face.
" It's okay baby. We're okay . " I say with words barely enunciated without the disruption of my own stammering.
My daughter cries in my arms ( that are so tightly wrapped around her that I wonder if I'm stifling her breathing ) with her shaking body . I love her.
It's just her and me in our home , as it's getting darker on the Wednesday evening. We ignore the fact that the door is open , the windows to and we just sit there on the living room floor of burgundy and white tiles, next to my old black and slightly dusty stereo.
My child weeps and I weep with her...
