Have Faith
Have Faith
I walked inside my house and closed the door, dumping my bag in one of the chairs. I could hear my husband playing the piano in the other room, so I knew he was home. Entering the room where he was playing, I listened to him finish before clapping and hugging him.
"That was beautiful."
He shrugged. "It's not my song, it's...."
I stroked his hair out of his face. "You've got to move on, dear. It was so long ago."
"How can I move on?" He looked up at me, his gaze too sad to be angry. "He was my best friend. How can I forget him?"
"I'm not asking you to forget him." I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I'm just... just focus on us, okay? Please?"
He sighed. "It's hard. It feels like we're trying to replace him."
"But you're not. You're just continuing his legacy."
"Am I?" He looked down at his hands. "Sometimes it feels like I should stop. I mean, would people really care if I stopped playing?"
"It shouldn't matter what other people think." I sat down next to him on the piano bench. "You're doing what you care about. It's what you love."
"Maybe I'm getting too old."
"As long as you enjoy what you're doing, you can never get too old."
He smiled at me, before beginning to play a new song on the piano, this time something I recognized as his. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft notes and to my husband's gentle voice.
***
"Do you think he's looking down on us?"
I looked up. "Looking down from where?"
"From heaven."
"I don't know, dear. I don't believe in heaven."
"What do you believe in?"
"I don't believe in anything."
I returned to the script.
"I believe he is," my husband said. "And I hope wherever he is, he's happy."
"I'm sure he is."
***
"Anita."
I looked up, recognizing the voice. My eyes searched the room until they found the source of the voice.
"It's you." A part of me thought I had gone crazy, yet another part was calm.
"Yes, it's me." The figure walked across the room and sat down next to me.
"But..."
"Don't question it dear, just accept the fact that I'm here."
"Darling, who are you talking to?" my husband asked as he walked into the room. Seeing the man sitting next to me, he stopped dead, the colour draining from his face.
The man smiled up at my husband. "It's been a while."
"But...but...you're..."
"Dead? I know, dear."
"But...how is this possible?"
"I wanted to visit you one last time."
My husband started to pace around the room. "I've gone mad," I heard him mumble. I got up and put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not mad, I see him too."
My husband faced the man on the sofa. "Are you really here? Or am I imagining you?"
The man got up and walked over to my husband. Taking a hand, he said, "I'm really here, at least for a while."
Hesitantly, my husband reached up and touched the man's face, before flinging both arms around his neck, embracing the other man in a tight hug.
"You're really here," my husband sobbed. "You're back."
"I said I was dead," said the man, tears falling down his face as well. "I never said I was gone."
***
"So, how long are you here for?" my husband asked. He had calmed down now and was now drinking a very strong coffee.
"I can't stay too long," the man said. "My time here is limited, and there is one or two others that I want to say goodbye to."
"Are you a ghost or an angel?"
"A ghost I think. Or a spirit."
"Is there a heaven?"
"We all made our own heaven and hell," the man said mysteriously.
Me and my husband nodded as if we understood. There was a brief silence.
"Are you really dead?" my husband asked hesitantly.
"I'm afraid so," said the man. "But in a way it's quite peaceful. No more rushing around."
"I still can't believe you're really gone."
"You should not grieve, the time comes for everyone."
"But how can you have been gone for long?"
"Like I said earlier, just because I was dead doesn't mean I was gone. I've been watching over you for a while now."
There was a silence.
"How is this possible?" I asked eventually.
The man frowned slightly. "I'm not quite sure. It may be because I had a strong connection with many people on earth, and because of this I didn't want to leave when I died. So my spirit - or whatever you want to call it - stayed."
"But it's been nearly seventeen years," my husband said. "Why now? Why not earlier?"
"I haven't had the energy, my dear. I'm not quite the man I once was. It's quite draining on your spiritual energy to become visible."
"Well you're back now. That's the main thing."
"I fear you misunderstand. I cannot stay here long, and even if I could, I'm dead. It's not like I can waltz into a studio and make another album."
"But...why must you leave so soon?" My husband looked so sad as he said this, so lost.
"My energy is draining."
"But-"
"Do not question it, just embrace the time you had with me, and remember the good times." The man got up to leave.
"How can I go on?" my husband asked, getting up as well. "You always were the strongest."
"Nonsense, dear," the man said. "You've gone through so much, and you still manage to keep going. If anything, you were the strongest, not me."
The man began to fade. My husband noticed this, and looked distraught. "Don't go!"
The man embraced him tightly. "Goodbye, old friend. Remember me well." Turning to me, he kissed me lightly on the cheek and said, "Look after him well, my dear." With that, he disappeared completely.
***
Me and my husband were curled up on the sofa together. He had cried all the tears he had, and now sat with his eyes red but dry.
"Who was he really?" I asked him.
He looked surprised at my question. "You knew him as well, dear."
"But you knew him better, and for longer. You knew the man away from the stage and underneath the flamboyancy."
"He...." My husband struggled to find the right words. "He was a romantic. A lover. He...he was just a singer with a song, really. Deep down, he just wanted to perform."
"He did have a way with words."
Silence returned.
"Yesterday you asked me what I believed in," I said. "Well, what do you believe in?"
My husband took his time answering this question, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I used to know, but now I'm not sure. Ever since his death, and now his return, I've never been sure of anything."
I wrapped my arms around his waist and breathed in his familiar sent. "I believe in me, dear. And I believe in you. More than anything, I believe in you."
My husband smiled at me, reminding me why I fell in love with him. "I believe in us."
"That was beautiful."
He shrugged. "It's not my song, it's...."
I stroked his hair out of his face. "You've got to move on, dear. It was so long ago."
"How can I move on?" He looked up at me, his gaze too sad to be angry. "He was my best friend. How can I forget him?"
"I'm not asking you to forget him." I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I'm just... just focus on us, okay? Please?"
He sighed. "It's hard. It feels like we're trying to replace him."
"But you're not. You're just continuing his legacy."
"Am I?" He looked down at his hands. "Sometimes it feels like I should stop. I mean, would people really care if I stopped playing?"
"It shouldn't matter what other people think." I sat down next to him on the piano bench. "You're doing what you care about. It's what you love."
"Maybe I'm getting too old."
"As long as you enjoy what you're doing, you can never get too old."
He smiled at me, before beginning to play a new song on the piano, this time something I recognized as his. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft notes and to my husband's gentle voice.
***
"Do you think he's looking down on us?"
I looked up. "Looking down from where?"
"From heaven."
"I don't know, dear. I don't believe in heaven."
"What do you believe in?"
"I don't believe in anything."
I returned to the script.
"I believe he is," my husband said. "And I hope wherever he is, he's happy."
"I'm sure he is."
***
"Anita."
I looked up, recognizing the voice. My eyes searched the room until they found the source of the voice.
"It's you." A part of me thought I had gone crazy, yet another part was calm.
"Yes, it's me." The figure walked across the room and sat down next to me.
"But..."
"Don't question it dear, just accept the fact that I'm here."
"Darling, who are you talking to?" my husband asked as he walked into the room. Seeing the man sitting next to me, he stopped dead, the colour draining from his face.
The man smiled up at my husband. "It's been a while."
"But...but...you're..."
"Dead? I know, dear."
"But...how is this possible?"
"I wanted to visit you one last time."
My husband started to pace around the room. "I've gone mad," I heard him mumble. I got up and put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not mad, I see him too."
My husband faced the man on the sofa. "Are you really here? Or am I imagining you?"
The man got up and walked over to my husband. Taking a hand, he said, "I'm really here, at least for a while."
Hesitantly, my husband reached up and touched the man's face, before flinging both arms around his neck, embracing the other man in a tight hug.
"You're really here," my husband sobbed. "You're back."
"I said I was dead," said the man, tears falling down his face as well. "I never said I was gone."
***
"So, how long are you here for?" my husband asked. He had calmed down now and was now drinking a very strong coffee.
"I can't stay too long," the man said. "My time here is limited, and there is one or two others that I want to say goodbye to."
"Are you a ghost or an angel?"
"A ghost I think. Or a spirit."
"Is there a heaven?"
"We all made our own heaven and hell," the man said mysteriously.
Me and my husband nodded as if we understood. There was a brief silence.
"Are you really dead?" my husband asked hesitantly.
"I'm afraid so," said the man. "But in a way it's quite peaceful. No more rushing around."
"I still can't believe you're really gone."
"You should not grieve, the time comes for everyone."
"But how can you have been gone for long?"
"Like I said earlier, just because I was dead doesn't mean I was gone. I've been watching over you for a while now."
There was a silence.
"How is this possible?" I asked eventually.
The man frowned slightly. "I'm not quite sure. It may be because I had a strong connection with many people on earth, and because of this I didn't want to leave when I died. So my spirit - or whatever you want to call it - stayed."
"But it's been nearly seventeen years," my husband said. "Why now? Why not earlier?"
"I haven't had the energy, my dear. I'm not quite the man I once was. It's quite draining on your spiritual energy to become visible."
"Well you're back now. That's the main thing."
"I fear you misunderstand. I cannot stay here long, and even if I could, I'm dead. It's not like I can waltz into a studio and make another album."
"But...why must you leave so soon?" My husband looked so sad as he said this, so lost.
"My energy is draining."
"But-"
"Do not question it, just embrace the time you had with me, and remember the good times." The man got up to leave.
"How can I go on?" my husband asked, getting up as well. "You always were the strongest."
"Nonsense, dear," the man said. "You've gone through so much, and you still manage to keep going. If anything, you were the strongest, not me."
The man began to fade. My husband noticed this, and looked distraught. "Don't go!"
The man embraced him tightly. "Goodbye, old friend. Remember me well." Turning to me, he kissed me lightly on the cheek and said, "Look after him well, my dear." With that, he disappeared completely.
***
Me and my husband were curled up on the sofa together. He had cried all the tears he had, and now sat with his eyes red but dry.
"Who was he really?" I asked him.
He looked surprised at my question. "You knew him as well, dear."
"But you knew him better, and for longer. You knew the man away from the stage and underneath the flamboyancy."
"He...." My husband struggled to find the right words. "He was a romantic. A lover. He...he was just a singer with a song, really. Deep down, he just wanted to perform."
"He did have a way with words."
Silence returned.
"Yesterday you asked me what I believed in," I said. "Well, what do you believe in?"
My husband took his time answering this question, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I used to know, but now I'm not sure. Ever since his death, and now his return, I've never been sure of anything."
I wrapped my arms around his waist and breathed in his familiar sent. "I believe in me, dear. And I believe in you. More than anything, I believe in you."
My husband smiled at me, reminding me why I fell in love with him. "I believe in us."