My Big Brother and His Little Sister

Visiting Father

In three weeks, I'll begin my life as a college student.
And nowadays, those weeks pass just like one. Time really moves fast.

Last friday night, in our usual game, Mom told me to visit my father's graveyard before I left.
I didn't say anything at first. Visiting father's grave was one of my agenda before I left but I never thought mom would ask me to go too soon.
Maybe she was worried I wouldn't have much time later. Especially, I still have some paper to take and documents to manage before the new year in my college began.

I'll just tell you honestly. Visiting a grave was not one of my favorite thing to do.
Especially after father's funeral.
It wasn't like I never visited him at all. I did. But I never stayed too long there.

Mom was staring at me, waiting for my answer. Finally I nodded, confirming her request.
She's right. I had to ask father's bless and permission before I leave.

Sunday morning, after buying a basket of flowers, AB kindly accompanied me to the graveyard.
As soon as we entered the area, I shuddered a bit. The air was always chillier here. Not kind of air that made you comfortable and relax. It's more like something that suffocated you slowly.
One of the reasons why I had always refused spending too much time here.
After walking a bit, we found father's grave.
We immediately cleaned it a little from wild grass and dry leaves then we spread the flowers there. The pile of ground looked better now after the yellow, white, pink and red colors mixed with the green grass.
Then AB and I prayed. For father to have a happy life wherever he is now.

I still didn't open my eyes when I felt that AB has silently left. He must be giving me some space alone to say what I want to say to father.
Unfortunately, even after AB was out of my sight, I couldn't make a word.
The only thing I did was sitting beside his grave, staring at the tombstone. His name, the date of his birth and the date when he died were engraved there. The letters and numbers were fading. In my next visit, I'd remember to bring something to light them up again.

I saw the year when he left us again. It's pretty long already.

He has gone from my life for fourteen years.

I didn't know why I couldn't say anything. Maybe I thought it was useless to talk to a grave.
Some people said his spirit was there and he could hear me.
But I couldn't make myself sure about it and it made me harder just to say 'hey' to him. It felt like I would only talk to the wind. And stone and dirt.
Whatever I said, he wouldn't answer. I wanted a reply, even it just his voice humming responding to what I say.
I know it's a silly request. And scary too, yes, to receive an answer from dead people. But honestly, I forgot how his voice was and I wanted to hear it.

I lost count how long had I stayed there until AB sent me a message, asking if I was done or not.
I replied him, telling that I was on my way back to the car.

I tried once again to speak, maybe telling 'bye' or 'I'll see you soon'.
But nothing came out.
At that time, I felt like I was in my weakest point.
I just wiped my hand on his tombstone before I left, entering the car with many kinds of feelings inside my chest.

During our way home, it seemed AB could read my dark mood cause he didn't say anything.
I felt grateful for that. I think I couldn't handle an argument with him at the time.
To cover our silence, AB raised the music volume and I let the beat fill my ears.

Mom welcomed us as soon as we reached the front door. She asked about how the visit was and I couldn't lie to her by saying everything ran well.
I quickly hugged her and cried in her shoulder, telling her how I suddenly turned to a mute person beside father's grave.

It needed a moment for mom to finally calm me down.
She said it's okay and father must be understand why I was there.

I still wasn't sure it was okay, though. The guilt kept haunting me for the rest of the night. I even had a crazy plan to come back to the graveyard at that time.

Gladly, I didn't have to visit him.

Because he visited me.

A dream, of course. I must have thought about him too much until I brought it to my sleep.
I immediately noticed it wasn't real because father and me were sitting in our old living room. The one before we painted it sky blue. And I also knew I didn't want to wake up yet.

Father was sitting in the couch, like always with a cigarette between his index and middle finger and a cup of black coffee on the table in front of him.
I sat on the rug, my favorite spot. Near the television. But I faced my back to the electronic device and stared at father instead.

I don't remember correctly how the dream was but I'll try my best to tell you about it.

"I've graduated high school." I said, starting the conversation.

Father didn't say anything. He just smiled and nodded his head. The curves on his lips indicated that he's proud and glad about the news.

"And I'll go to college. Out of town. Is it okay??" I said again.

Once again, he just smiled and nodded. He even didn't care about the cigarette between his fingers. He never brought it to his mouth.

I've told you how I missed his voice, so I started crying again when he gave me no sound. Just the movement of his head was not good enough.

"No advice for me?"

Father pointed the family picture in one of the walls, indicated that I could have some from mom and AB.

"They've given theirs. May I have yours?" I said.

I didn't know what happened but the cigarette suddenly missing from his hand.
He moved forward, sat in the edge of the couch and his right hand was above my head.

He gave me a final smile,

and finally a sentence.

"You're Naya. You're happiness."

His words still a mystery for me. But after that, I woke up and spent the rest of the night in mom's room.

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A/N

I cried like a baby that day.
*sighs*
Glad finally I can see him again after years.
Even though it just a dream.

Love ya,
24/06/2018