White Rose On His Grave
White Rose On His Grave
”Just get well, that's all I asked from heaven…”
And I didn't get it…
He dashed the silence that Wednesday morning; that summer morning when no bird was singing, when the sun was hiding behind the grey clouds, hiding its shine from the people.
"I’m gonna die today," he said.
His trembling voice fused with the clock as it ticked 6 AM.
Sitting next to his gaunt body, holding his hand firmly in hers, his wife covered her face - the face of despair, sadness yet hope, the face crossed with brooks of tears - with her blond hair.
With his last grains of strength he turned on the other side; slowly lapsing into sleep. Smithereens of hope present in the eyes of his loved ones never seemed to fade away. Never.
He knew that the time had come. His family was aware of it as well. But it is a long path from being aware to accepting it. A long path.
He was alternately waking up, then slumbering. A gleam in his eyes began to wither; kindness and softness of his heart began to tick slower. And slower. Despite the spirit slowly abandoning his body, he was eager to finish the electricity installation over at cousin’s house.
But the illness that invaded his organism was also eager - eager to take his life.
Fear and anger pervasive in the air were glancing off his pallid face: he was smiling. That happy and peaceful expression glimmering from his face occupied the hearts of his loved ones, staying forever engraved on them.
Hope, present until the very end, could not stifle the tears from sliding down the cheeks. He began losing himself. The last blood analysis showed that the tumor had spread. The nurse infused a dose of vitamins into his organism, trying to prevent the inevitable. He was falling apart, being surrounded by the people he loved. The illness made him fall apart.
"Crank up the volume," he said to his wife.
She took a remote control and let his favorite song fulfill his heart.
"Da te mogu pismon zvati… [If I could call you with a song…]," was reverberating in his mind, in their hearts.
Tears. Nothing but the power of tears and despair could be perceived on their faces. Traces of hope sparkling inside began to incinerate.
He was dieing.
His wife was dabbing his skinny arms, smiling at him - trying to coop up an outburst of tears. That gleam was now masked with red color that broken capillaries spilled all over his eyes. He could barely talk but the lethal illness made him cough. And cough; coughing out blood.
He gathered people around him knowing that he would no longer be there; with them. Sane to the very end, he called all of them by their names. Saying goodbye and shaking hands with every single one of them, he ceased to resist to the illness. His last handshake wasn’t firm but sincere.
"Look after my wife and kids," he said, barely keeping his eyes open.
With last molecule of strength he pressed his lips onto his wife’s and breathed out for the last time.
1:40 PM - the illness prevailed.
Through the mist of tears, his son closed daddy’s eyes.
His daughter didn’t know. She didn’t know that her dad was gone. A friend, a childhood friend told her as he came pick her up at the bus station. She panicked, wrapped up in anger, fear, denial - far away from the point of acceptance.
Shocked and blinded by the tears, she was standing on the porch, paralyzed by the thought of him. Paralyzed by his death.
She felt thousands of eyes on her, thousands of hearts crying along with her.
He was lying motionless in his bedroom with his hands crossed and a smile shimmering from his face. Dark blue tuxedo he only wore once - at his sister’s wedding – masked his haggard body.
No, he did not suffer. He did not take a single pain killer ever since he was diagnosed meta adenocarcinoma. The doctors gave him 5 or 6 more months - he lived up to a whole year. A whole year. He was a stubborn fighter, a witty workaholic with an incisive will to live. That was her dad.
"Get up," she said. "Come on, dad, get up!" She repeated.
He didn’t get up. He couldn’t. He was just lying on the bed. He fell in neverending sleep.
She was looking at him, crying her heart out; seeing the man she ran with across the meadows; the man she kicked a ball with; the man trying to give her everything she wanted.
“...I never said thank you for that, now I’ll never have a chance…”
She closed her eyes and that meadow looked even brighter, that ladybug ball looked even bigger and prettier and that man… Her dad… Looked happy.
She opened her eyes filled with tears and kissed him on the forehead. It was cold. She could no longer see the meadow; the ball bounced off the ground and got lost but her dad… He still looked happy.
She opened her heart and glued a picture of him smiling firmly to her soul. To her heart.
"I love you," she said, letting a globule of tears drop down on his hand; letting her daddy take a bit of her with him. Forever.
“…on sleepless road the sleepless go, may angels lead you in…”
"…If I could call you with a song, I would sing my whole life,
If I could call you with a song, I would sing,
I would never stop…”
In loving memory of my dad,
January 18, 1960 - June 27, 2007
I miss you. I love you. We all do. I wish you knew how much... <3
And I didn't get it…
He dashed the silence that Wednesday morning; that summer morning when no bird was singing, when the sun was hiding behind the grey clouds, hiding its shine from the people.
"I’m gonna die today," he said.
His trembling voice fused with the clock as it ticked 6 AM.
Sitting next to his gaunt body, holding his hand firmly in hers, his wife covered her face - the face of despair, sadness yet hope, the face crossed with brooks of tears - with her blond hair.
With his last grains of strength he turned on the other side; slowly lapsing into sleep. Smithereens of hope present in the eyes of his loved ones never seemed to fade away. Never.
He knew that the time had come. His family was aware of it as well. But it is a long path from being aware to accepting it. A long path.
He was alternately waking up, then slumbering. A gleam in his eyes began to wither; kindness and softness of his heart began to tick slower. And slower. Despite the spirit slowly abandoning his body, he was eager to finish the electricity installation over at cousin’s house.
But the illness that invaded his organism was also eager - eager to take his life.
Fear and anger pervasive in the air were glancing off his pallid face: he was smiling. That happy and peaceful expression glimmering from his face occupied the hearts of his loved ones, staying forever engraved on them.
Hope, present until the very end, could not stifle the tears from sliding down the cheeks. He began losing himself. The last blood analysis showed that the tumor had spread. The nurse infused a dose of vitamins into his organism, trying to prevent the inevitable. He was falling apart, being surrounded by the people he loved. The illness made him fall apart.
"Crank up the volume," he said to his wife.
She took a remote control and let his favorite song fulfill his heart.
"Da te mogu pismon zvati… [If I could call you with a song…]," was reverberating in his mind, in their hearts.
Tears. Nothing but the power of tears and despair could be perceived on their faces. Traces of hope sparkling inside began to incinerate.
He was dieing.
His wife was dabbing his skinny arms, smiling at him - trying to coop up an outburst of tears. That gleam was now masked with red color that broken capillaries spilled all over his eyes. He could barely talk but the lethal illness made him cough. And cough; coughing out blood.
He gathered people around him knowing that he would no longer be there; with them. Sane to the very end, he called all of them by their names. Saying goodbye and shaking hands with every single one of them, he ceased to resist to the illness. His last handshake wasn’t firm but sincere.
"Look after my wife and kids," he said, barely keeping his eyes open.
With last molecule of strength he pressed his lips onto his wife’s and breathed out for the last time.
1:40 PM - the illness prevailed.
Through the mist of tears, his son closed daddy’s eyes.
His daughter didn’t know. She didn’t know that her dad was gone. A friend, a childhood friend told her as he came pick her up at the bus station. She panicked, wrapped up in anger, fear, denial - far away from the point of acceptance.
Shocked and blinded by the tears, she was standing on the porch, paralyzed by the thought of him. Paralyzed by his death.
She felt thousands of eyes on her, thousands of hearts crying along with her.
He was lying motionless in his bedroom with his hands crossed and a smile shimmering from his face. Dark blue tuxedo he only wore once - at his sister’s wedding – masked his haggard body.
No, he did not suffer. He did not take a single pain killer ever since he was diagnosed meta adenocarcinoma. The doctors gave him 5 or 6 more months - he lived up to a whole year. A whole year. He was a stubborn fighter, a witty workaholic with an incisive will to live. That was her dad.
"Get up," she said. "Come on, dad, get up!" She repeated.
He didn’t get up. He couldn’t. He was just lying on the bed. He fell in neverending sleep.
She was looking at him, crying her heart out; seeing the man she ran with across the meadows; the man she kicked a ball with; the man trying to give her everything she wanted.
“...I never said thank you for that, now I’ll never have a chance…”
She closed her eyes and that meadow looked even brighter, that ladybug ball looked even bigger and prettier and that man… Her dad… Looked happy.
She opened her eyes filled with tears and kissed him on the forehead. It was cold. She could no longer see the meadow; the ball bounced off the ground and got lost but her dad… He still looked happy.
She opened her heart and glued a picture of him smiling firmly to her soul. To her heart.
"I love you," she said, letting a globule of tears drop down on his hand; letting her daddy take a bit of her with him. Forever.
“…on sleepless road the sleepless go, may angels lead you in…”
"…If I could call you with a song, I would sing my whole life,
If I could call you with a song, I would sing,
I would never stop…”
In loving memory of my dad,
January 18, 1960 - June 27, 2007
I miss you. I love you. We all do. I wish you knew how much... <3