My faithful Clarinet
As my fathers time came to an end it was quite impossible to be realistic. My nights in my bedroom were quiet, i heard my father attempt to move towards his water. When I hear my fathers pain it brings glass droplets to my eyes which sting every time i feel the pain he does, my eyes swell up everyday. I wish i could stop but i cant . My father meant the world to me, when we went to the beach every summer he would buy me an ice cream and make sure the iscles melted on my nose, when we played in the sea he would make my feet sink in the sand while the fish swam around my naked ankles. I could not break my routine when he passes away.
Days passed, and every day had the same quiet mist in the air, my mother never moved from my fathers bed side, she would lie there and bathe him in scented oils to keep his skin soft and silky, she would make his sheets fit in every corner so he was as comfortable as he could and the best thing she could do is make his faveourite meal everynight: freshly caught samon soaked in pepper and lemon with mothers special mix of prawn puree and cucumber slices with a hint of lemon. My mother can do many things but one is fishing, she has no patience. But for father she would do anything. That night there was no smell of salmon skin roasting in the pepper and lemon sauce, i couldn't hear him struggle for his water at the break of dawn, the place was silent. My worries ovvewelmed me,I have never entered my fathers room before the door sneaked open, my sights that i first came to was my fathers gentle face looking like a picture in his pefectly made bed on the side of the oak cabinet next to the grand bed was his water in a blue dolphin glass which reminded him of the times at the beach, and his tea, cold and waiting to be eaten. There was no movement my mother stared at my fathers hand, i looked deep into her eyes but she did not look into mine i could see her green orbs glinting as the tears began to fall, i saw misery and sorrow in her flecked pupils. My father was dead.