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Faith: In memory of my father
Posted by smalltownlady, Jun 19, 2010. 920 views. ID = 3643

Faith

Posted by smalltownlady, Jun 19, 2010. 920 views. ID = 3643
This post was written in 2 minutes.
Revised from notes in my journal originally penned in November 2008.
This post has been awarded 5 stars by 1 reader.



FAITH
“God, don’t do that to all those people.” The old man was babbling again, oblivious to his surroundings. His daughter sighed, resigning herself to his semi-conscious state. He wouldn’t remember today’s visit, nor yesterday’s, nor tomorrow’s. Suddenly he jerked and opened his eyes. He seemed to recognize her.

“I talk to God,” he said.


“What do you tell him?”

“It’s a secret. I’m lonely. We’re all lonely here. No one wants to come visit us anymore. You don’t want to be here.” Tears came to his eyes. “No one loves me anymore.”

“Dad, stop, I am here. My brother comes everyday too. You are not alone. Think of me. When I am old as you there truly will be no one by my side for I am already alone, though young.” She squeezed his hand.

His eyes closed then and he slept. He did not speak again.


“What is that smell?” said the daughter.

She sniffed again. On the wall of the diner hung a floral arrangement made of dried eucalyptus leaves. She walked over to the flowers and was nearly overwhelmed with nausea at the smell.


“Funny,” she thought to herself, “I never had that reaction to a floral arrangement before.”

“Would you like coffee with your breakfast?” said the server.

“No, no thank you.” “What am I saying?” she thought. “I always drink coffee.”

For nine months she detested the smell of dried eucalyptus and she rejected coffee.

“Why am I pregnant now, after 15 years of marriage, after we thought children were impossible?”


“I talk to God,” said her father.

That was it. She had told him before he went silent. He had talked to God.

“I wish you could see your granddaughter, Dad. Perhaps you do.”




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