Requiem for a Promise
Delia Brown ran hand through her rich chocolate hair for the nineteenth time that day; one for every year of her life. She realized a while back that she did this action whenever she was nervous or just plain bored. Oddly enough she didn't feel any of these emotions----or did she really feel them and not know she did? Perhaps she just stopped feeling altogether.
'Well, that can't be too bad' she supposed. In fact, the more she concentrated on it, the more she wished it were true. She didn't want to feel today. It was one of those horrible catastrophic days when the weather matched the mood of the town----today that mood was sad and bleak, the perfect setting for a funeral----thus the reason for Delia's sorrow and her will to collapse.
With weary eyes she looked at the engraving on the tombstone that stood so sturdily before her.
*In loving memory of Edna Harper. Wife, mother, grandmother, friend. We'll never forget you.*
A tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered the proud old woman she grew to love. Over the years, Edna had, in a sense, become like a grandmother to Delia. She befriended her, guided her, and loved her. Some people went throughout their lives never understanding what these emotions could be...and Delia pitied them.
"You'd better get in the house soon. Looks like it's going to rain."
The husky voice shattered Delia's thoughts and she spun around.
It was Bright, and although he was a different Bright than she was used to seeing, he was still there. His hair looked pale and lifeless in the gray mist, and his eyes were red-rimmed. No color touched his cheeks, and yet there he stood, looking hard and stern with grief.
Delia sighed, "I can't go in. I don't want to see them. Any of them."
"Not even your Dad?" he asked, his voice soft. She'd never heard him speak like that before.
"Especially not my Dad," she whispered. Bright sighed behind her and memories of a similar situation flooded his mind. Colin Hart had died at the hands of Doctor Andrew Brown, and now his Grandmother too. There was a difference though; one wanted to live, the other to die, should there be immense complications. Colin's end was due to a choice; Edna's was not.
"It's not his fault," muttered Bright, though in his heart he wished it were. "It's so easy to blame other people." He thought back to Colin's first surgery. "Or yourself."
Delia turned around to face him, making eye contact with someone for the first time that morning. But Bright wasn't finished.
"You drive yourself insane. Thinking about how everything would be different, counting all the ways everything could change. You loose track of time and you start to doubt everything that goes into your head. And you hate it, and hate it, and hate it. But you have to catch yourself before you start hating other people too."
Delia's voice was hoarse. "My father?"
Bright shook his head. "No. Mine." He suddenly become very solemn, and Delia watched in amazement as the man of twenty-six soon grew old before her eyes, and in his eyes she saw resentment, anger, grief, and a lone emotion that was once happiness. It looked so far away now.
"Don't hate Delia. If there's one thing that you remember all your life...remember not to hate. Promise me?"
She blinked hard and nodded her head. "I promise." With a grateful smile, she went in search of Father, embracing him with open arms and a forgiving heart. It wouldn't be until later that night when she realized that Bright had not said a word to his father. That he strayed on the opposite side of the room...for that hour, and for all the hours to come.
As a shooting star came into view by the window, she felt something in the bottom of her heart. She felt love. Delia snuggled into bed and wrapped the blankets around herself.
"Thank you, Bright."
***It just occurred to me that you could view the ending in two ways: 1. Delia is alone in bed or 2. Bright is there next to her..........your choice. Please drop me a line!
Delia Brown ran hand through her rich chocolate hair for the nineteenth time that day; one for every year of her life. She realized a while back that she did this action whenever she was nervous or just plain bored. Oddly enough she didn't feel any of these emotions----or did she really feel them and not know she did? Perhaps she just stopped feeling altogether.
'Well, that can't be too bad' she supposed. In fact, the more she concentrated on it, the more she wished it were true. She didn't want to feel today. It was one of those horrible catastrophic days when the weather matched the mood of the town----today that mood was sad and bleak, the perfect setting for a funeral----thus the reason for Delia's sorrow and her will to collapse.
With weary eyes she looked at the engraving on the tombstone that stood so sturdily before her.
*In loving memory of Edna Harper. Wife, mother, grandmother, friend. We'll never forget you.*
A tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered the proud old woman she grew to love. Over the years, Edna had, in a sense, become like a grandmother to Delia. She befriended her, guided her, and loved her. Some people went throughout their lives never understanding what these emotions could be...and Delia pitied them.
"You'd better get in the house soon. Looks like it's going to rain."
The husky voice shattered Delia's thoughts and she spun around.
It was Bright, and although he was a different Bright than she was used to seeing, he was still there. His hair looked pale and lifeless in the gray mist, and his eyes were red-rimmed. No color touched his cheeks, and yet there he stood, looking hard and stern with grief.
Delia sighed, "I can't go in. I don't want to see them. Any of them."
"Not even your Dad?" he asked, his voice soft. She'd never heard him speak like that before.
"Especially not my Dad," she whispered. Bright sighed behind her and memories of a similar situation flooded his mind. Colin Hart had died at the hands of Doctor Andrew Brown, and now his Grandmother too. There was a difference though; one wanted to live, the other to die, should there be immense complications. Colin's end was due to a choice; Edna's was not.
"It's not his fault," muttered Bright, though in his heart he wished it were. "It's so easy to blame other people." He thought back to Colin's first surgery. "Or yourself."
Delia turned around to face him, making eye contact with someone for the first time that morning. But Bright wasn't finished.
"You drive yourself insane. Thinking about how everything would be different, counting all the ways everything could change. You loose track of time and you start to doubt everything that goes into your head. And you hate it, and hate it, and hate it. But you have to catch yourself before you start hating other people too."
Delia's voice was hoarse. "My father?"
Bright shook his head. "No. Mine." He suddenly become very solemn, and Delia watched in amazement as the man of twenty-six soon grew old before her eyes, and in his eyes she saw resentment, anger, grief, and a lone emotion that was once happiness. It looked so far away now.
"Don't hate Delia. If there's one thing that you remember all your life...remember not to hate. Promise me?"
She blinked hard and nodded her head. "I promise." With a grateful smile, she went in search of Father, embracing him with open arms and a forgiving heart. It wouldn't be until later that night when she realized that Bright had not said a word to his father. That he strayed on the opposite side of the room...for that hour, and for all the hours to come.
As a shooting star came into view by the window, she felt something in the bottom of her heart. She felt love. Delia snuggled into bed and wrapped the blankets around herself.
"Thank you, Bright."
***It just occurred to me that you could view the ending in two ways: 1. Delia is alone in bed or 2. Bright is there next to her..........your choice. Please drop me a line!