The death of a loved one marks a black stain on the life I led. Death changes and breaks the fragile bonds of family, the molecular unit of humanity. It breaks the sense of togetherness and unity, leaving those within the family in a state of isolation and shock. It affects our perceptions of the past, the way we conduct our present, and even the future I had thought was untouchable. Death is a destructive force, creating ghosts of not only those who die, but ghosts of an idyllic past. An idyllic past that I would give everything to regain.
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Today marks the 5th anniversary of my child's death, my beloved. I could not say her name due to the grief it causes me. I had lost her to suicide, for reasons that remain unclear to me to this day. Memories of seeing her on the floor, lifeless and limp, resurfaced in my mind. Today is a day wracked with sorrow and fights between the remnants of what I once called my family.
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Every year on this day, I make a commitment to pay respects to my daughter. I go to the cemetery that she was buried in and leave relics of the past next to her grave. Toys she once played with, books she read, and familial heirlooms that I passed down to her. I purge to my dead daughter the troubles occurring in my life. I spoke to her what she could've been, what life could've been like if she was still here. It seems such a foolish activity, but there was an unexplainable catharsis in going to my daughter's grave.
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The clocked struck 6:00PM, overcast weather abound. Before I left for the cemetery, I had to make sure the house was kept orderly and neat. Everything seemed to be neat and clean as I made my quick inspection. I saw my own father just loitering around, silent and looking forlorn. I bowed my head down, not wanting to see my father's misery any longer.
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“...Are you going to see her again?” He suddenly asked me, to which I turned around in response.
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“Yes... Yes, I am.” I answered.
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My father simply went back to his state of catatonia, simply looking at the wall with an almost empty stare. Yet, there was an element of fear in his eyes, like his catatonia was brought on by something... I wanted to ask, but I did not want to pry.
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I drove to the cemetery, finding myself there in a short amount of time. I had memorized the route by now, finding myself mechanically walking to her grave. A small stuffed animal in my hand to leave next to her grave.
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Her grave was like all of the others, with her name engraved on the stone slab being the only difference. Every offering I haven given to her no longer there, always to be empty every time I make my return. I walked to that grave, kneeling down with both knees and setting the gift I had for her gently in front of the grave.
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There was a hollow feeling of pain as I stared at that grave. That pain slowly began to be awashed with regret and sorrow. An immense sadness taking over my chest, with my hands now clasping my body in a vain attempt to hold myself together. Thoughts began to break and all logic was lost. My vision had been lost, stained by tears that overflowed from my eyes.
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As I tried to overcome my emotions, I had looked up in an attempt to clear my eyes. Yet, right in front of me, was my daughter. A floating outline of her in against the darkening sky. No, no it couldn't be... It couldn't be...
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A ghost... Of my daughter... No, I could barely believe it. Ghosts could not exist. They are just mere constructs of humanity... No, no... What explains this apparition? This being that shouldn't exist!
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Almost reflexively, I moved back, wanting to get away from this phantom.
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“Who... Who are you!? What are you!?” I screamed at the transparent figure.
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It made no response, only looking directly at me with a cold stare, almost disapprovingly. There was no expression etched to that apparition's face. I wanted to look away, but I could not. I refused to believe that this ghost was my daughter, yet with every second that this apparition looked at me, the more I could no longer deny. This was the daughter I had lost 5 years ago, the daughter I had lost to suicide. The girl who died at the tender age of 12, just beginning to explore her life.
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“M... My...” I started to stammer, trying to speak to the apparition. There was no response.
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“P... Please... P-please f-f-forg-g-ive me...” I said, trying to pull myself together. No response.
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“P... Please! I... I'm...” No response.
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The continuous glare from the ghost of my daughter shattered me even further. After a bout of silence, my cries of sorrow were renewed. I fell to my knees, feeling the stare of my daughter, watching me as I fell apart right in front of her. Things I had wanted to say all these years, going unsaid, because of my weakness.1260Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBnCFrbxVU3
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I looked up as I sobbed, seeing the ghost transfixed to her position, staring down at me with emotionless eyes.1260Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaTNyUr7XJB
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I wanted this phantom to go away, but simultaneously, I did not want this apparition to go away.1260Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2Ea5JDCD9B
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My emotions had calmed, but the ghost of my daughter did not. It remained there, even as I walked away.
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It was a ghost that would forever swallow me in eternal pain. A ghost that would haunt me until the day I die.1260Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4PrnFTpAgr
