The funeral was done. I was away from all those crowds with tears rolling down their black veils lying on their cheeks. I would always want to cuddle a friend who is in a need of everything to be fine but I know I don't ever deserve to be in the particular situation 'cause I no got one. Lately, father told me to pick some beneficial rubbish from all over good places. Recycling. Yes, that dwells in father. He always taught me that we have to critically think on how to live longer with an excellent accommodation which only covers the food-filling in our bellies.
'Dad,' says I.
'Yes, darl,' taking up his head sighted on me.
'I want to ask you about something,'
'You have always asked the same thing and you know what my answer's gonna be,' he smiled broadly.
'No, this question is kind of....' knotting my two fingers from left hand and right one with lips-biting of curiosity made his wrinkles showed up on his forehead.
'It seems seldom. Come sit with me,' patting a wooden chair beside him, he intended to always help his only child, me.
'No, dad. I am wondering. Why people always cry when somebody died?'
'Where have you been?' without answering my question, he was filled with qualm when such questions pops up.
'I went to the funeral over Gerard's house,' I bowed down.
'Why did you go there?' he started to raise his eyebrows making me shivered that he might vent the anger.
'I........ I just wanna find a bundle more of friends!' sighed.
'But you're not supposed to go there. People are sorrowful thinking of their beloved ones had gone to a more restful place,'
'Are you trying to say that that is the reason of why they were crying? But I was taught that we are supposed to be happy when our beloved ones have a blessed life!'
'Should not,'
'What do you mean?'
'I have something to show to you,' leaving me alone on the old wooden chair, he left to grab something from the broken drawer.
'This is it,'
'Who is this?' I looked into the eyes drawn on the photo. A beautiful woman wearing a classic dress like a singer who wins men's hearts in pub.
'My beloved,' the husky old voice blended into the photo. He must be yearning a lot for this woman. But why, wasn't he supposed to be happy?
'She must be dead. You're supposed to be happy,'
'No, Anna, no,' his tears streaming down and I was speechless at the moment. I could never seen him crying but why on this photo of a woman?
'Dad....'
'Let's just forget about this. It will take a hundred years for you to understand. I won't explain,' he intervened my question sentence and I would just forget about it as he wished.
This bed was the most heavenly place for me. Nothing more could be better than this unless it was a Paris. But still Paris beds weren't to be good as mine. My bed is my bed and it would be even more blissful if father came to fondle my hair.
I walked towards the windows, still watching over a place where the funeral just occurred. The grave was looking good enough with all those flowers and I was pretty curious on what they were doing in there. Why?
Suddenly, a woman went into the cemetery alone and apparently and old woman going along behind her.
'Diana, stop crying!' says that old woman.
'I never wanted it to be in this way,' says the girl.
'But, he's gone. Let's go home,'
'No, he is here. He's gonna come out and fetch me!' what had astonished me that the girl was slapped by the old woman and what was more astonishing was the matter that I COULD HEAR THEM SPEAKING EVEN I AM 500metres AWAY!
'Mom!' she stood up while holding the cheek and ran away. Her mother fell down onto the ground right next to the grave.
'I told you, girl. I knew it...' she shed her tears while putting the hands on the tombstone.
'Anna,' a voice sneaking behind my back.
'Why didn't you sleep yet?'
'I...... I'm... staring at the skyline. It looks so beautiful, just like you Dad,' I grinned favourably.
'You're such a funny girl. And..... I have one thing to tell you,' he hadn't closed the door and remain standing up behind the door.
'What is it, dad?'
'Well.... maybe tomorrow. Gain energy and wake up early. Sleep now, darling. Goodnight,' he slammed the door softly. He seems burdened by some risky thoughts and he didn't even give me a goodnight kiss tonight. What's wrong?
I walked towards the bed and lie down with my notebook. Father had always wrote a notice when he went to work earlier before I got up.
'Dad,' says I.
'Yes, darl,' taking up his head sighted on me.
'I want to ask you about something,'
'You have always asked the same thing and you know what my answer's gonna be,' he smiled broadly.
'No, this question is kind of....' knotting my two fingers from left hand and right one with lips-biting of curiosity made his wrinkles showed up on his forehead.
'It seems seldom. Come sit with me,' patting a wooden chair beside him, he intended to always help his only child, me.
'No, dad. I am wondering. Why people always cry when somebody died?'
'Where have you been?' without answering my question, he was filled with qualm when such questions pops up.
'I went to the funeral over Gerard's house,' I bowed down.
'Why did you go there?' he started to raise his eyebrows making me shivered that he might vent the anger.
'I........ I just wanna find a bundle more of friends!' sighed.
'But you're not supposed to go there. People are sorrowful thinking of their beloved ones had gone to a more restful place,'
'Are you trying to say that that is the reason of why they were crying? But I was taught that we are supposed to be happy when our beloved ones have a blessed life!'
'Should not,'
'What do you mean?'
'I have something to show to you,' leaving me alone on the old wooden chair, he left to grab something from the broken drawer.
'This is it,'
'Who is this?' I looked into the eyes drawn on the photo. A beautiful woman wearing a classic dress like a singer who wins men's hearts in pub.
'My beloved,' the husky old voice blended into the photo. He must be yearning a lot for this woman. But why, wasn't he supposed to be happy?
'She must be dead. You're supposed to be happy,'
'No, Anna, no,' his tears streaming down and I was speechless at the moment. I could never seen him crying but why on this photo of a woman?
'Dad....'
'Let's just forget about this. It will take a hundred years for you to understand. I won't explain,' he intervened my question sentence and I would just forget about it as he wished.
This bed was the most heavenly place for me. Nothing more could be better than this unless it was a Paris. But still Paris beds weren't to be good as mine. My bed is my bed and it would be even more blissful if father came to fondle my hair.
I walked towards the windows, still watching over a place where the funeral just occurred. The grave was looking good enough with all those flowers and I was pretty curious on what they were doing in there. Why?
'Diana, stop crying!' says that old woman.
'I never wanted it to be in this way,' says the girl.
'But, he's gone. Let's go home,'
'No, he is here. He's gonna come out and fetch me!' what had astonished me that the girl was slapped by the old woman and what was more astonishing was the matter that I COULD HEAR THEM SPEAKING EVEN I AM 500metres AWAY!
'Mom!' she stood up while holding the cheek and ran away. Her mother fell down onto the ground right next to the grave.
'I told you, girl. I knew it...' she shed her tears while putting the hands on the tombstone.
'Anna,' a voice sneaking behind my back.
'Why didn't you sleep yet?'
'I...... I'm... staring at the skyline. It looks so beautiful, just like you Dad,' I grinned favourably.
'You're such a funny girl. And..... I have one thing to tell you,' he hadn't closed the door and remain standing up behind the door.
'What is it, dad?'
'Well.... maybe tomorrow. Gain energy and wake up early. Sleep now, darling. Goodnight,' he slammed the door softly. He seems burdened by some risky thoughts and he didn't even give me a goodnight kiss tonight. What's wrong?
I walked towards the bed and lie down with my notebook. Father had always wrote a notice when he went to work earlier before I got up.
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