Where's Daddy?
Chapter 2
The funeral came around too quickly. I wasn’t ready; I couldn’t imagine him lying in a box waiting to be hidden away for all eternity. Despite my talks to Grace about heaven and the afterlife, I strongly believed that when you were dead, that was it. You were gone.
We were sat on the hard, wooden pews in the old church, dressed in our best clothes. I had bought matching black dresses for myself and Grace, all too aware that as the widow I would be the centre of attention. I had deliberated over a dark veil but decided that it would be too much for Grace to handle, and I didn’t want to distract anyone from their mourning- not to mention, I had to act normal and hold in my emotions so I could be a strong role model for my daughter. I found my thoughts drifting back to the day when the policeman had shown up on the doorstep, how Grace had answered and led him into the kitchen where I was preparing lunch. A meal for three. We had sat down on the new sofa, which we had paid for out of our depleted savings but decided was worth it, and tried to ignore the sense of foreboding which had settled over the room like flies over a dead body. We had made small talk about our old gate, which was on its last legs and had given the officer some trouble when he tried to open it, and then we got down to business. The policeman leant forwards and cleared his throat, an expression of sympathy etched onto his face.
‘Madam, you are the wife of Karl Sunder, correct?’
I had nodded in agreement, feeling my tongue shrivel up in my mouth.
‘Mrs Sunder, I’m so sorry but Karl has been involved in a motorcycle accident. I’m afraid to tell you that he didn’t make it.’
At first, I found it hard to understand. What didn’t he make? Then it hit me and I tried to close the lid on the well of emotions which rose up and threatened to consume me, forced my eyes to look through the dark curtain which blocked my vision and concentrated on keeping my breathing steady. I tried to stay strong for Grace, who was playing with her dolls on the floor, oblivious to the fact that her life was about to be turned upside down. She would have been expecting her father home any second, and would be confused as to why he wasn’t there. I could imagine the questions she would ask - why isn’t Daddy home? Where is he? - and the answers I would be unable to give. But to my surprise, she hadn’t asked any of those questions. Instead, she had smiled a secret smile to herself and carried on playing.
In hindsight, perhaps that smile had been aimed at the space behind me, perhaps it had lingered a little bit too long to be normal. I had thought that it was because she was too young to understand, and had braced myself for the talk about heaven and God, which she had taken in her stride and seemed to understand rather too well. And then she had begun her spiel about how Karl was still alive…
The priest, beckoning me up to the alter, interrupted my thoughts and jerked me back to the present. I squeezed Grace’s hand to comfort her and left her sitting next to her grandmother, who instantly took the child in her arms.
We were sat on the hard, wooden pews in the old church, dressed in our best clothes. I had bought matching black dresses for myself and Grace, all too aware that as the widow I would be the centre of attention. I had deliberated over a dark veil but decided that it would be too much for Grace to handle, and I didn’t want to distract anyone from their mourning- not to mention, I had to act normal and hold in my emotions so I could be a strong role model for my daughter. I found my thoughts drifting back to the day when the policeman had shown up on the doorstep, how Grace had answered and led him into the kitchen where I was preparing lunch. A meal for three. We had sat down on the new sofa, which we had paid for out of our depleted savings but decided was worth it, and tried to ignore the sense of foreboding which had settled over the room like flies over a dead body. We had made small talk about our old gate, which was on its last legs and had given the officer some trouble when he tried to open it, and then we got down to business. The policeman leant forwards and cleared his throat, an expression of sympathy etched onto his face.
‘Madam, you are the wife of Karl Sunder, correct?’
I had nodded in agreement, feeling my tongue shrivel up in my mouth.
‘Mrs Sunder, I’m so sorry but Karl has been involved in a motorcycle accident. I’m afraid to tell you that he didn’t make it.’
At first, I found it hard to understand. What didn’t he make? Then it hit me and I tried to close the lid on the well of emotions which rose up and threatened to consume me, forced my eyes to look through the dark curtain which blocked my vision and concentrated on keeping my breathing steady. I tried to stay strong for Grace, who was playing with her dolls on the floor, oblivious to the fact that her life was about to be turned upside down. She would have been expecting her father home any second, and would be confused as to why he wasn’t there. I could imagine the questions she would ask - why isn’t Daddy home? Where is he? - and the answers I would be unable to give. But to my surprise, she hadn’t asked any of those questions. Instead, she had smiled a secret smile to herself and carried on playing.
In hindsight, perhaps that smile had been aimed at the space behind me, perhaps it had lingered a little bit too long to be normal. I had thought that it was because she was too young to understand, and had braced myself for the talk about heaven and God, which she had taken in her stride and seemed to understand rather too well. And then she had begun her spiel about how Karl was still alive…
The priest, beckoning me up to the alter, interrupted my thoughts and jerked me back to the present. I squeezed Grace’s hand to comfort her and left her sitting next to her grandmother, who instantly took the child in her arms.