Kurt trudged through the fields, walking parallel to a large dry stone wall, his fingers bouncing along the rough surface as he travelled. His other hand clutching a bouquet of deep red roses.
He travelled along for what seemed like forever, until he reached a large willow tree that stood by the edge of a small lake. Scattered beneath the swaying branches were the most beautiful pink carnations. Kurt stopped for a moment and surveyed the scene, so peaceful and tranquil.
He got to his knees and crawled up to the tree, until he was seated with his back resting against the soft bark. He felt his bottom lip begin to tremble; he bit it harshly, almost drawing blood. He felt his eyes sting as salty tears pooled up in the corners.
'Life is so cruel.' He murmured, running his hands across the petals of the beautiful roses. 'What we had, it was so perfect. We had our whole lives to spend together. You and I, laughing in the sun. Playing around in the garden, singing to each other as we baked those chocolate cookies you used to love. It was all so, unbelievably perfect. Just like you. Your smile, it brightened up the room, and your giggle that made everyone melt'
'It's all I want, all I ever wanted.' He placed the roses on a small plaque in the ground by his hips, removing the dry and crumbling flowers that were previously lying upon it. 'Just to see you smile and laugh again, to run around with me and hold my hand. To sing with me, and dance. I want to see your recitals and your sports games and your paintings you used to bring home. I still keep them you know, everyone one. In frames, or stuck to the refrigerator. Just little reminders of what we had.'
'It's just so unfair.' A solitary tear leaked from his closed eyes and ran down his porcelain cheek before splashing onto the bronze plaque below. 'They told me it would get easier, everyday, little by little, it would get better. But it hasn't. Baby, I miss you so much, this has been the longest and most painful year of my life. But I still feel the same as I did that first day, when I was told the news. It tore me apart. It tore us apart. I just don't see it ever getting better. You were my life, my soul, everything I could have dreamed for and more. Why did you have to go?'
Kurt opened his eyes and slowly wiped away his falling tears with the sleeve of his black jacket. 'I just wish you were here. Everyday, every minute, every second. I feel incomplete, like a part of my soul has been ripped from within me.'
He fished about in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, he smoothed it out on his lap and ran his finger around the outlines of two faces, huddled tightly together, smiling broadly into the camera one sunny afternoon in May.
'It was perfect. You were perfect. I hope you never forget that. I never will. Your beautiful blue eyes, like precious stones. Your mop of chocolate hair like mine, and that one dimple. It always brought a smile to my face.'
'Now what's left to smile for?'
He turned his gaze away from the carnations and lay down. He allowed his body to become completely loose and melt into the ground, he stared up through the branches of the tree. The breeze creating a slow rustling sound.
'Is there a heaven? Is it nice in there? Are there the angels like you always said, or the fluffy white swans? You always believed in heaven didn't you. But me...I never could, no matter how I tried, I just couldn't.'
'I wish more than anything that I could. You deserve it. You deserve a heaven; YOU deserve the perfect heaven, the perfect heaven for my perfect girl.' He turned forcefully onto his side and stared at the plaque. The tear slowly drying on the letters in the warm summer sun.
A fresh wave of emotion struck Kurt like the ocean tide.
'To Hell with it, you don't even deserve to be up there in that place. Damn the swans, and damn the angels, you should be here.'
' Right here'.
' On earth,'
'...with me'.
'With your daddy.'
He traced the small letters, breathing heavily as he stared.
'I need you baby, I really really need you. I don't know what I'm going to do, what can I do? Help me baby, tell me what to do. Tell me how to make the pain stop.'
He let out a wavering sigh and sat up.
He came here every day. He would sit and talk. About life, about loss and about everything he wished for.
Everyday a new set of emotions would fill him. Sorrow, grief, anger, love, loss, yearning. He couldn't handle it.
It was all so much.
And a year.
A whole year,
Almost to the day
Of this. Pure, raw emotion that filled him up until the point where he wanted to scream and break down into a mangled pile of tears.
Why?
That was his only question.
Why?
Why did that car have to be there?
Why did it have to turn the corner?
Why did it have to spin?
Why did it have to knock the little girl from her bicycle?
And why was that baby girl now buried six feet under the ground?
To anyone watching, he was just a man who came there to be with his thoughts, there in the silence by the lake. But he was never really alone, and it was never really quiet. He could still hear the screeching of rubber along the tarmac as the drunk driver fled, the screams echoing in his ears as his baby hit the road, the smashing of his heels as he ran towards her.
He could see the battered body of a child, lying next to a broken bike, see the blood flowing from her head, and see her brown locks of hair, soiled by the foul red substance.
The screams were so loud, and so real, like he was there, all over again.
The pain, the horror and the alarm when the first scream rang out, and the devastation and fear when she finally lay quiet.
Then the sound of sirens, the frantic calls of an ambulance crew, the clanging and smashing of hospital machinery, the squeaking wheels of the gurney containing his child, the bleeps of the heart monitor and the monotone wail when the heart stopped beating.
He leant down and kissed the bronze square. The light gently glistening from it angelically.
Willow-Hope Elizabeth Hummel.
May 7th 2021- May 30th 2029
Most beloved daughter,
'Hope is like a bird that senses the dawn and carefully starts to sing while it is still dark'
Kurt desperately tried to blink away his tears, he had cried too much. So very much over the past year. He didn't have the energy to cry again. The countless sleepless nights, nightmares, endless walks, therapy sessions, funerals, and mourning had left him an empty shell of the man he once was.
But slowly, he allowed the tears to free flow from his eyes, staining his skin with red and pink.
'Say hello to your grandma for me. She would have loved you too you know. More than you can possibly imagine. We all did. You were our shining beacon of hope and love. Little Willow-Hope. My angel. My beautiful perfect baby angel. WHY CAN'T YOU COME BACK?'
Kurt stood up and marched to the side of the lake and screamed.
Screamed for all the world to hear.
He stamped his feet in the water, not caring if the splashes damaged his suit or his shoes. He just wanted it all to end. Why?
Why was this happening?
Why had someone felt the need to rip his baby girl from this world? Why?
She was eight.
Just a baby. A tiny little, beautiful baby girl. She was kind and funny and gentle and caring and the perfect embolism of human life. And now she was gone.
Kurt collapsed. He knees buckled and he fell into the shallow water. He let the ripples glide across the body and the cold bite of the water take over him.
And he cried. He cried for her. For her kindness, for her love, for her joy, for her hope, for her hair, for her skin, and for her smile. He cried for his daughter, the only thing he wanted to see, but the one thing he knew he never could.