In Loving Memory
After eating our dinner in a solemn silence, Uncle Charles and I retreated to different areas of the house, he to his office and me to my room. I had thought long and hard about what I wanted to do for the anniversary of my parent’s death tomorrow, but seemed to have fallen short. I knew I wouldn’t be going to school, that much was certain. This had been a tradition since sixth grade, and I wasn’t going to break it now. Thankfully, my uncle was okay with that. He deemed emotional traumas important enough to skip school for. I also knew I was going to visit their graves, an obvious and traditional thing to do. But other than that I didn’t have many ideas. I felt like I should do something more special than usual, since it was a significant anniversary, but everything I was coming up with either seemed not enough or too cheesy.
I plopped down on my bed and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, trying to think. The gears of my brain felt covered in rust, and the left side of my head started throbbing painfully. I closed my eyes and pressed my palms gently against the lids, willing myself to think. The one idea that kept popping up is going through old photographs and scanning them, using them to make a sort of collage, and maybe watching some old videos of them. But even that didn’t seem enough. I wanted to do something a little more personal. Then suddenly I got a brilliant idea: I could write them a letter and put it on the gravestone. It would be easy, cheap, and would feel a lot more like a tribute to them than any other ideas I had come up with thus far. I sat up slowly, massaging my head again, and wandered over to my desk to look for some paper and a pencil. I’d have to wait until later to get an envelope, since they were in the office and I knew better than disturb Uncle Charles when he was in there. Besides, I didn’t want him to know I was doing this. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, but this was something I wanted to keep myself. I dug around for a few minutes and finally found some stationary and a pencil that actually had lead, and sat down to begin writing. The pencil hovered over the paper for a few minutes as I planned out what I wanted to say, and finally touched down and began forming words.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know we haven’t spoken in 15 years, but it’s your daughter, Tanny. I miss you so much, and I hate how this turned out. A child should never have to live without talking to his or her parents for this long. It breaks my heart to know that we will never talk again, at least not in this life. Anything that drives people apart is a horrible thing, because losing contact stings you to the core. I hope that one day I may be able to see you again, even if it isn’t for a long time. I can always hope that one day we will once again be a happy family, and be able to laugh together, cry together, and play together, just like we used to. But until then, I will keep you in my memory. I promise that before then, the thing that cast us apart will be taken care of, and I will be able to join you with no unfinished business left in the way.
Until then, your ever loving daughter,
Tanny
I put the pencil down and looked down at what I wrote. It had been hard to write it, but I felt good about how it had turned out, because it was how I felt. I hoped that there was a Heaven, because deep down, I want to be able to see them again. Even if it will be years from now if I end up dying of old age and nothing that cuts my life short, I like to think I will be able to see my family again, so we can be one big happy family once again, like we were before that fateful day. And I hope when that day comes, the man that separated us has been found and persecuted as harshly as possible. I wiped the tears from my eyes and folded the letter neatly, propping it on my desk, and then lay back down, waiting for tomorrow to come.
I plopped down on my bed and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, trying to think. The gears of my brain felt covered in rust, and the left side of my head started throbbing painfully. I closed my eyes and pressed my palms gently against the lids, willing myself to think. The one idea that kept popping up is going through old photographs and scanning them, using them to make a sort of collage, and maybe watching some old videos of them. But even that didn’t seem enough. I wanted to do something a little more personal. Then suddenly I got a brilliant idea: I could write them a letter and put it on the gravestone. It would be easy, cheap, and would feel a lot more like a tribute to them than any other ideas I had come up with thus far. I sat up slowly, massaging my head again, and wandered over to my desk to look for some paper and a pencil. I’d have to wait until later to get an envelope, since they were in the office and I knew better than disturb Uncle Charles when he was in there. Besides, I didn’t want him to know I was doing this. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, but this was something I wanted to keep myself. I dug around for a few minutes and finally found some stationary and a pencil that actually had lead, and sat down to begin writing. The pencil hovered over the paper for a few minutes as I planned out what I wanted to say, and finally touched down and began forming words.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know we haven’t spoken in 15 years, but it’s your daughter, Tanny. I miss you so much, and I hate how this turned out. A child should never have to live without talking to his or her parents for this long. It breaks my heart to know that we will never talk again, at least not in this life. Anything that drives people apart is a horrible thing, because losing contact stings you to the core. I hope that one day I may be able to see you again, even if it isn’t for a long time. I can always hope that one day we will once again be a happy family, and be able to laugh together, cry together, and play together, just like we used to. But until then, I will keep you in my memory. I promise that before then, the thing that cast us apart will be taken care of, and I will be able to join you with no unfinished business left in the way.
Until then, your ever loving daughter,
Tanny
I put the pencil down and looked down at what I wrote. It had been hard to write it, but I felt good about how it had turned out, because it was how I felt. I hoped that there was a Heaven, because deep down, I want to be able to see them again. Even if it will be years from now if I end up dying of old age and nothing that cuts my life short, I like to think I will be able to see my family again, so we can be one big happy family once again, like we were before that fateful day. And I hope when that day comes, the man that separated us has been found and persecuted as harshly as possible. I wiped the tears from my eyes and folded the letter neatly, propping it on my desk, and then lay back down, waiting for tomorrow to come.