The Long Journey Home (Completed)

Chapter 6 (Edited)

My heart pounds, my strength fails me;

even the light has gone from my eyes. Psalm 38:10

"Emby!" a young boy said and jumped out of his chair. His gray eyes were alight with glee as he came over to me.

I smiled as I picked him up and hugged him close to me. "My, you are getting too big for me to carry, Patrick," I said, looking at him. His black hair fell into his face as he smiled at me. I leaned my head on his and grinned, our noses close to touching.

"Mama is with Papa," Patrick said. "Mama said that Papa won't be coming home with us. Did he move to a different place?"

I closed my eyes and didn't answer. How could I tell a four year old that his dad died and that he left us? I wasn't so sure on how to do that, and it did hurt me not being able to tell him about it. He wouldn't understand death.

"He did go to a different place," Jason said, saving me. "But he loves you very much. And, he will always be with you, forever and always."

"Where?" Patrick asked as he moved his arms, so that Jason could hold him.

Jason took hold of Patrick and held him close to him, having one arm resting on his behind, so that Patrick would be sitting on it. The reason was so that Jason could look Patrick eye to eye. He pointed to Patrick's heart, before clearing his throat. "Part of him is in here and a part of him is in Paradise."

"Does he hurt in Paradise?" Patrick asked.

Jason shook his head, no. "No," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, again. "He doesn't hurt anymore."

Patrick nodded his head and then looked at me. "Can you sing us a song?"

"I don't have-"

"Here," a male said handing me my guitar.

I looked at the male stunned, but I took my guitar from him. José Gonzalez was his name, and he had worked on my family's farm for a long time. He had short black hair and dark brown eyes. He had a five o'clock shadow on his face, making me wonder how long he had been here. He stood at 5'7 and was pretty muscular.

His dark, brown eyes were filled with grief, while he looked at me. He cleared his throat. "Your Padre (father) was very kind to me and my familia (family), Señorita, (Miss)," he said, his Spanish accent getting the better of him. "Your mother wanted me to bring your guitarra (guitar) and your perro (dog)."

My perro... my dog. I looked at the male, whom my father gave a job to his father and then to him, as his father started to get sick and died. "Where is she?" I asked, as I nodded my head in thanks. I strummed a few notes of my guitar, tuning it.

José, nodded his head to a spot where there was a shape curled around a figure. "Allí, (there)," José said. "Your perro (dog) is with tus la hermanita ( your little sister). Jasmine is... around, somewhere."

I nodded my head. "Thanks, José," I paused as I studied the other male. "Did Red give you..."

José nodded his head. "Sí (yes), so Señora (Mrs.) Castilla brought me with them so that I can see your Padre (father)."

"Emby, play us a song," Patrick said, folding his arms across his chest and pouted.

"Please," Jessica said, looking at Patrick while Jason let him down on the ground.

"Please," Patrick said, rolling his eyes at Jessica.

I smiled, and I sat down on a stool that in the room. I strummed my guitar, tuning it some more. "What song would you like me to play?" I asked, looking at Patrick wjo;e Jasmine came in and grabbed Lilly from where she had been laying.

My dog growled at Jasmine, still in guard mode. "Nila, Hal," I said, making a slicing motion with my hand.

My German Shepherd backed off and laid down beside me, with a small whimper.

"Good Girl," I said, looking down at her, before I turned to look at Patrick. "Well?"

"Open the Eyes of My Heart," Patrick said instantly.

I hid back a cringe as Patrick had said that song. That song had been my father's favorite. The other was What Faith can Do by Kutless

"Please?" Patrick asked, as I started to strum out the first notes of the song.

"Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. Open the eyes of my heart. I want to see you. I want to see you," I sung, putting all my emotion it it. But, there something was different. Something was different in my singing.

I glanced up and looked at Jason. I could tell that he had noticed my singing and that I wasn't putting my prayer in it.

That was how bad I blamed the Lord for the death of my father.

My father was young. He didn't need to die. He had a family and three daughters to worry about. However, he was dead. He was dead as a doorknob and so was my faith. Even if it was just for the moment.