Worries #2

As I reminisced about the past I came across some very old and damaged memories. One of which I have very present in my mind is the day my dad told me he was to go to Africa to work.

It was a sunny afternoon and we were returning from our grandmothers house, in the middle of nowhere. I don't quite remember how my parents told me or what was their tone. I remember the look they had, expecting us to cry or make a sad face. But we didn't. It was as if I had decided not to cry, and so I didn't. I was just very patient, and waited quietly.

When my father returned, 2 years after that, I couldn't quite believe my eyes.

And then things just got worse. He kept coming and going to a point where the distant and a whole bunch of circumstances broke both my parents. And they just couldn't stand the sight of each other. It was agonizing. And when my father finally agreed to sign the divorce papers, their relationship seemed to reach the point of tolerance. I felt as if I could rest at last, since I would stop feeling the tension around them, and most worries were fading.

And then life decided to slap me in the face. My father died. And it seemed like life smiled sarcastically at me, as if saying "There! Now you don't have to worry at all."

I found out, looking back at that time, sitting in the car, that it was not so much that I decided not to cry. It was more like I decided not to grief.