Memories of You

Chapter Sixty-Three - Even in Death

Wow!  Just wow!  I can't believe I've been working on this book for over a year now.  It has been a long hard journey to get to the final chapter.  So many tears were shed, especially during the concentration camp chapters.  You, my lovely readers, have made the journey worth it.  Seeing your reactions and knowing that my words touched so many people has truly made those sleepless nights worth it.  I really can't tell you how much it means to me to have you guys reading my story. I hope you enjoy the last chapter.  This chapter was probably the hardest to write for so many reasons.  So enjoy.

I can't express my thanks enough to BarbaraK2U and Depecher.  You ladies have just been so incredible in making this story work, and not have the grammar and spelling mistakes it would have otherwise.  So thank you, thank you, thank you.  

Tobias' POV

Sixty years later

I look out the window of my bedroom, trying to push all thought from head. I'm trying to stay only in the present. Trying not to think, just observe. I watch the snow fall lightly on the backyard, and wonder how many inches will fall over the next few days. It's been warmer this year. Hardly any snow fell at Christmas this year, but it seems that old man winter has finally decided to make an appearance.

I flex my fingers, feeling the burn of the arthritis in my joints, especially in my right hand. I know I should take my medication, but I'm so sick of those damned pills. They don't do much beyond dulling the pain, and honestly I want to feel that pain. It helps control the other.

I hear a soft knock on the door, and hear it creak open. I don't have to look to know who it is. "How are you, Dad?" she asks gently.

I look up into my daughter's familiar blue-gray eyes, and try to give her a convincing smile. "I'm doing alright, Mary. Just thinking." I return my gaze to the window, looking out and watching the neighbor's kid sweep snow from the drive to reach the shed — no doubt so that his younger siblings can get to the sleds later on.

"Are you up for a visitor today?" she asks, but I can tell that it really isn't a question. It's more a kinder way of saying I need to get out of the room in which I've been trying to confine myself. My sons have been nearly dragging me out of the house most afternoons, saying they want to have lunch with me or have me come over and watch some game on television with them. I love my children, but all I really crave is the silence.

I look back at her and see her give me a hopeful smile, waiting for my response. That smile alone breaks through the walls I try to keep up, because our daughter looks so much like Tris. Except for her hair: the poor girl definitely got my dark curls, even if there are now a few grey strands interspersed.

I sigh, knowing I'm in for an argument if I refuse, and nod. "So, who's here to visit?"

"Who says they're here yet? They might not be here until this afternoon. Maybe even tomorrow. For all you know, James could be coming by so you can go watch a football game later," she says slyly, placing her hand on her hip.

I start to scoot to the edge of my chair, placing my hands on my knees to try and get up. "Because you're my daughter, and I know you. Whoever it is, they're probably waiting in the car outside so they don't hear me argue with you." I rock a little to gain some momentum to stand. "Besides, your brother wouldn't wait to get my answer, he would just come by."

She walks over to give me a hand. I wave her away, pushing myself up, and roll my stiff shoulders.

She gives a small huff, shaking her head at my insistence on doing things myself. "It's Uncle Zeke that's coming. Rebecca called an hour ago, and told me she's bringing him to visit with you while she helps me sort through all of the things that we found in the attic at your house. We've been moving everything over here bit by bit, but now that everything is finally here, there's a lot of papers that we need to go through." She fixes me with a stern gaze as we walk slowly down the hall. "Rebecca said you weren't answering your phone. So, I made some muffins and coffee so you and Uncle Zeke can catch up in the living room." She looks at me and smiles mischievously. "And they aren't in the driveway. They're down the street."