FINAL GOODBYES
Written by Star
Chapter Two - The Last Carter
Remember yesterday; think of tomorrow, but live today.
(anon)
She's not been gone a week and the dust gathers already.
Drawing the curtains to allow the setting sun's light in, watching morbidly as dancing dust particles lay claim to more of her room. So many memories confined to this room, tears, laughter and in-between. So many photos in this room, throughout this house...had she feared forgetting their faces? There were very few of my parents together that even suggested they were a couple, even fewer that proved it, but I would study each and every one.
The beauty of my family home tries to compete with the emptiness I feel; a beautiful autumn day marred by the funeral of my Mother. Even the strongest bear fragile memory, my Mother was no exception - she who survived Radam in a desperate war, the loss of her lover and raising his child alone. My children play in the distance, trapped blissfully in their ignorant youth; do I have the strength to live up to my parents' legacy?
I've proven myself against Radam, and the malcontent fanatics; what now?
The gentle yet firm hand of my Mother for had guided my life so long, even with children of my own. I still feel like a child in so many ways, incomplete for some reason. Perhaps because even on a day like today, I still feel left out. The great conspiracy that's haunted me all my life - everyone seemed to know my Father and pitied me; knowing I never did. They could remember him, but I would never have memories of my own. Almost everyone who spoke today, spoke too about her relationship with my Father, how she must be at peace because they're together...blah blah blah. I guess people try to romanticize death to alleviate their pain.
.oOo.
The closest thing I've ever had to a father sits in Mom's favourite chair, and looks as lost as I feel.
"Can you be my Daddy?"
He loved her, loves her still; I was too young to understand the glances, the stolen exchange of confused hearts. Though autumn's chill is young, it bites at our skin buried below layers of warm clothing. I sit next to Ringo and warm my hands by the fire.
"I can't believe she's gone."
"Yeah," I sigh, stoking the fire. "How are you holding up?"
"I always thought she'd outlive us all." Ringo's voice wavers as he rubs his eyes. I can feel the tears daring to drop from my eyes, and excuse myself from the room.
.oOo.
After losing my Father, Mom went on to continue his dream and became the Space Knight Commander after Jamison faded from the photos. I'm sure Father was the motivation behind her transformation into the Red Tekkaman, the fierce and able protector of 'The Dream'. Radam had no hope when they arrived to claim Earth.
I was fifteen, and remember it well.
Their fleet had been discovered behind Pluto as they attacked Beyond Solar, an outpost for exploring beyond the solar system. Something the Space Knights fought against, deeming the risk of a future attack too high to warrant exploring the dangerously unknown. I was ushered into the control room and watched as Mom glared at the monitor, her eyes narrowed and glowing strangely. The base shook suddenly and sirens went off; Radam had breeched the atmosphere somehow. A strange sensation shot up my spine, and my hand grew hot...I'd never seen such fear in my Mother's eyes before.
"Nick?" She whispered; her eyes widening as she stared at my right hand.
Even stranger than the transformation that dared to happen in that room, was the disappearance of Radam that happened the moment my crystal materialised.
Mom arranged for a special training facility but refused my presence in the field until I was eighteen. The three years leading up to Radam's next attempt were scarred with battles with various tribes of fanatics, believing that Radam would save them from humanity's self destruction. I watched Mom give some chances, retribution to others; massacre to the returning Radam. My chance finally came; I was ready for the responsibility, but not for the reaction of the public. Everywhere we turned: Ghost or Fraud? What the hell do the media know? They feed off misery and fabricate facts, unconcerned with the feelings of others.
While I despised the attention I received, Mom found it amusing.
"I daresay you're tired of hearing it, but the two of you are more alike than you know; just don't start sulking in shadows or the photographers won't get a shot the girls can swoon over."
.oOo.
"I admire her for so many reasons, by her loyalty was one of the most frustrating."
So lost in my memories, I didn't even hear Ringo enter the room. Here was the man that raised me as a son, but I could do nothing but stare at him. Doubts that burned my insides for so long swipe at my tongue, the questions form and are finally given voice to.
"Did you ever resent him? My Father?"
"Until you were born, Blade was the only man I would ever say I loved; he was the brother I never had." He sighed, seeming grateful for the opportunity to unleash the answers at last. "Blade, with the exception of your Mother, was one I'd ever trust completely."
Man and love aren't usually associated in a conversation with Ringo. I sat down on Mom's bed as a grimace appeared on his face; he flinched and declined the offer to sit.
"Until Blade arrived on the scene, I thought I was the only man Star loved, albeit platonic love."
I listened as he recounted stories from their youth, the awkwardness of their adolescence and their baptism by fire into adulthood. Many of the tales were new to my ears; I'd never known Mom to dwell too much on the past.
"I often wonder if he resented me..."
"You and Mom?" I gasped.
"As a father to you, Nick." He replies quickly. Uneasy, he stands up and looks around the room. "You called me Dad once, remember? You were three..." He trails off, lost in the memory. "I've never wanted to take that from Blade, but I'm grateful if we ever had that sort of relationship; you and I."
"I'm lucky to have you in my life." I mumble awkwardly, we've had our share of man-to-man talks, but these kind of conversations were normally reserved for my Mother. "I've always respected you and thankful to have you as my Dad all these years."
Ringo's grin spreads, nodding as though he knew it all along; I'm sure he needed to hear it on a day like today. He opened his mouth to say more, when my twins burst through the door.
"Gramma? Gramma?" The twins cried in unison.
"Sorry love, they just stormed up here; I'm losing my touch." Natasha sighed, rubbing her back. "Are you feeling any better, Ringo?"
"Happy to see my favourite twins!" Ringo exclaimed as the girls giggled. My little Princess', or Devils...depending on the hour. "How much longer until the next one's born?"
"Not long now," Natasha smiles softly.
.oOo.
Leaving Natasha to rest, Ringo and I take the girls outside.
"I've got something to give you." Ringo blurts as we inch closer to the Carter Plot.
"It's not another condom, is it? Honestly, that joke's getting old." I reply slyly, a memory so vivid paints a grin on my lips.
"Maybe I should give it to Natasha then, or she'll be asking you for a vasectomy." He laughs as I cross my legs. "No, what I'm about to give belongs to you." He mumbles, placing an old envelope in my hands gently. "I'll leave you to it."
I find the girls talking to Mom's grave, but I can't bear to watch for long. The pain is still too fresh, like the earth around her tombstone. Crouching by Father's grave, I pull out the stray weeds daring to grow. As usual, melancholy comes back to haunt me as I remember the many hours lying here talking to it, pretending he could talk to me, comfort me if I ever needed it.
"Daddy, please tell Gramma to come back! We'll be good, we promise!"
"We promise not to play dress-ups with her uniform..."
"Or use her lipsticks..."
"Please Daddy, we miss her stories!"
"Stories about Grappa!"
How do you explain to five year-olds about death? That it wasn't anything they did or said, but that it was just a part of life.
"Your Grandmother was very tired, girls, she worked very hard and needed to rest. She slept for a long time, and dreamt of all the people she loved..."
"Can we go and wake her up?" My oldest definitely has her Grandmother's forthright charms.
"What happened in Gramma's dream?" My youngest asked, climbing up on my lap.
"In her dream, she dreamed of all people she loved; Grandpa was there, Mommy and I were there, Uncle Ringo was there and of course, you two were there." I paused, delighting in their giggles. "She was soaring with the Angels, but missed us very much. She wanted to be with all of us, and asked if she could. She'd worked so hard all her life, her wish was granted and was turned into a beautiful Angel..."
"So she could always be there if we needed her..."
"Daddy! Gramma used to say that about Grappa!"
"Is Gramma with Grappa now?"
"Yes, and we have to be happy for her. If we aren't, she won't be happy and won't have happy dreams."
"Will Gramma have a nightmare?"
Here I have a wonderful family, my perfect (unless screaming at me) wife, two beautiful daughters and another child on the way. The new generation grow stronger as the old pass into memory. I must now be like my Mother and be grateful for what I have, not bitter about what I don't.
.oOo.
Finally after years of wanting, wishing and waiting, he finally me in my need. His words of comfort were intended for Mom, and it's obvious she sought it often. I read, and reread it, soaking up his handwriting, his thoughts...
Love is gift that can come in many forms...
Back to the question I ask and am asked so often - what now? The Space Knights have been my past, present and future for so long, do I dare a life without it? Even with all the wealth behind me, I'd go (and drive my wife) crazy if I decided to give in to the Couch Potato that lingers in my heart. No, I have a responsibility to my children to secure their future.
Until that unknown and inevitable day when I can finally meet my Father, I will always be a Space Knight.
...To be continued