Looking up the tree looked so much bigger than the last time I saw it. Its Branches widen, the leaves a more healthy green to them but the trunk felt the same; its roughness was still there when I touched it.
Looking back over my shoulder I could still see my auntie and uncle standing in amongst the graves. They were standing close, arms wrapped around each other and my auntie seemed to still be crying. For she was trying to hide that she was crying from me before, but I could tell she was crying like I can always tell when she cries, like I can tell when her smile is real because it lights up her whole face and makes you smile, but she isn�t smiling now because she�s crying because she�s sad but I don�t really understand it.
Something had shifted between them, since yesterday.
She was happier, he was sadder. It was if she all of the weight that she had been carrying around for weeks now after my fathers death and even before then, had simply been lifted and put onto him. Her frustrations, her fears, her loss, her guilt, which she had been suffering with silently, dealing with alone, had faded with her realizations.
Yet with each of her happier moments, his face became more afraid, tired, guilt stricken and frustrated. He may think he could hide his emotions from her, but I could tell she could see behind his happy fa�ade, as much as I could. He was still dealing with his emotions, his loss and fears.
He was yet to have his moment of truth.
But with still that huge emotion separation between them, their distance had lessened with the want to be happy, together.
It had been like they were part of a show, a scene where they were suppose to act like they were happy, that they loved each other, but now just realizing that they didn�t need to act to show how much they meant to each other, it was just there.
Like is had always been.
I took a deep breath, turning back to the tree and reaching up to climb it. Getting near the top I stopped and sat myself down. Closing my eyes I took another deep breath. I could still hear my aunties quivering voice, as we all had stood in front of the grave; my fingers tracing the roughness of the letters, the soulful words reaching my heart.
�Time is too slow for those who wait,
I held the branch I was sitting on tight between my hands, I didn�t want to let go.
Too swift for those who fear,
I could feel the air getting quieter; the branches stopped swaying in the wind.
Too long for those who grieve,
Everything became still and silent, it was if I was somewhere else entirely.
Too short for those who rejoice,
Then I felt it, the softness, and the warmth that was radiating off it, I sighed in relief she was real.
But for those who love, time is eternity.�
Her soft delicate hand curled around mine and I couldn�t help but smile, with all the craziness, this moment made it all worth it. I hadn�t wanted it to be all in my mind, in my dreams; I wanted it to be true and real. As much as I wanted my daddy back, I wanted this more, wanted this for longer.
I could feel my emotions rising, coming out in soft silent whispers in the air. I wanted to scream and jump for joy. I wanted to open my eyes and look at her, for real. I wanted to feel the softness of her blonde curls that have been told countless of times feels exactly like mine, I wanted to be proven right so badly.
But I didn�t, I couldn�t. I didn�t want to open my eyes, incase it really was just my mind. I�m terrified that it is.
�Open your eyes sweetheart�.�
I couldn�t breathe, her voice was like the softest music that I�d ever heard, I almost choked on my own tears.
�I can�t.�
�You can sweetheart, I�m here!�
�I can�t, mummy.�
�It�s okay to be afraid, sweetheart.�
I shook my head from side to side, my eyes still tightly shut. But as she squeezed my hand again, my uncles soothing voice shot through me.
�It�s okay to be afraid. I�m terrified myself.�
I took a deep breath, fighting the fear of opening my eyes. Another breath and I relaxed my eye lids. Another and I so slowly, so carefully opened them.
�It�s okay to be afraid. I�m terrified myself.�
My eyes took a moment to focus. The blurriness of the colours, the blues and the greens mixed with shades of yellows and browns forming different shapes and patterns, before rearranging themselves into the solid objects that they were.
I took one last breath before looking at her.
�It�s okay to be afraid. I�m terrified myself.�
He�s voice, the roughness of the emotion that it had held when he had spoken, triggered something inside me. That had poked a hole into my dark emptiness and was letting a pin prick of light in.
Her green eyes glistened in the light; the happiness that I could found there only seemed to make her look even more beautiful. Her blonde curls blew in the soft wind I couldn�t feel anymore. Her cheeks were glowing with a tinge of redness that was reflecting the silvery tear lines. Her lips were rich with redness; the watery smile she wore only seemed to have enhanced the fullness that they carried. And even her smile was better than the pictures. They may have captured the surface of my mother in the photographs, but seeing her now was something entirely different.
Her presence just blew me away.
It was like I was falling, just by looking at her.
A wail of a sound moved loudly through the stillness of the air.
