It's Quiet Uptown

Part 1: We Move Uptown

"Daddy, what's wrong?"

I looked down. Little John looked back up to me and tugged on my sleeve again. Smiling, I took his hands in mine.

"Nothing, sweetie. You guys can go on ahead of me." I answered. My children raced into the church doors. John looked up at me curiously before following the others. I slowly walked up to the doors myself. I looked up and noticed a brown cross hanging on the door. For a moment, I thought about praying. I haven't done that for years. Still, it might make me feel something, anything other than this crushing depression. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to whisper a small prayer:

Philip, I'm so sorry. Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I know it's my fault. I know that.

I felt a tear fall down my cheeks.

"Alexander." a familiar voice called. Without even opening my eyes, I knew who it was.

"Philip," I knew this wasn't healthy. I knew that, but this saved me for small moments in the day. "Do you like it uptown?"

Blowing wind simply answered.

"It's quiet uptown." I sighed.

I pushed my hair back as I finally opened the doors. It had turned gray ever since the funeral. I positioned myself on one of the chairs closest to the alter. I put my head in my hands and choked back a cry. I smiled through the tears as I felt a small arm wrap around me.

"Something is wrong, isn't it?" John innocently asked.

I nodded and hid my face. My children saw right through it.

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