Moments of Silence

(Hey all, quick warning up front. The below story contains some mentions to mental health and topics surrounding familial relationships and grief. Please keep safe and be mindful of your own mental health!)

Leaden feet carried me closer to the place I needed to go. Through the trees and the rolling hills, to the solitary figure awaiting me.

He said nothing as I approached nor as I made a spot for myself in the unruly grass beside him. Normally I would’ve balked at the idea of sitting among the weeds and dirtying the nice suit I wore, but today I found I couldn’t care less. He would’ve laughed at me for it. He always did find it funny how much importance I put into my appearance.

“Hello, dad,” I started. When no answer returned, I cleared my throat a few times. “How’re you doing today?”

Silence still and I felt stupid for asking. I felt stupid for even coming – this was going exactly as I knew it would. There was nothing here for me, no peace of mind to be scavenged from the ashes of our relationship.

I knew it would be worse if I left now. I might not find peace here, but at least I wouldn’t be a coward who couldn’t speak his mind.

“Do you remember the last time we spoke? It was a little over a year ago now, right after Thanksgiving. Just about the whole family was there for our argument. Everybody but Tom and his family, but nobody really likes my cousin. And I’m sure aunt Jane told him about it afterward.” It had been a bad fight, really bad. Both of us yelling until we were red in the face and yet I could hardly even remember what it was about.

Religion, probably. We often fought over his faith and my lack of such things, and a time like Thanksgiving was a perfect time to get into it. Then once that was out of the way, everything else would just come tumbling out. Every perceived slight and verbal blow traded over the years to be rehashed right then and there.

“I didn’t see you for Christmas or New Years. Or this Thanksgiving, or any of the holidays in-between. I know you want to say I didn’t call or text either, but neither did you. I know what you’ll say to that too, ‘I spent eighteen years raising you and this is how you repay it. I sent you to college but you can’t even send a quick Merry Christmas?’”

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

“No. You wouldn’t say that. You would look at me as you always did, with that warm but unsure smile and the pain so clear in your eyes. So rarely angry…” But the burden of your disappointment was always crushing. That was made the last fight so special, you’d been genuinely mad. It disgusted me afterward how I felt glad about that.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” He remained there, silently listening to every word. I had originally hoped that, maybe, it would make me feel better to have him finally listen. It didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I’m not here to apologize but I am sorry. To leave it the way we did…I’m equally to blame. I had my chances, my long moment staring at my phone screen, but the words never came. I didn’t know what to say to fix what happened between us. I don’t think there was anything I could say,” I shook my head and sighed.

“That has always been the way of it. Our relationship has been built on failing to say the things we should’ve, and not being able to stop ourselves from shouting the things we shouldn’t.”

That wasn’t fair either. But it was right, or at least true. There had only been a short time I could remember that not being the case, when I was young and mom was still alive. “That’s too much to get into right now.” We already grieved her loss until there was nothing left in our hearts but a blackened piece of coal that gently smoldered from time to time.

There was nothing left to say on the matter.

“I want…I want you to know that I always loved you. Even when I hated you and couldn’t bear to see your face, I still loved you. Something kept tugging at me to return and I did everything I could to bury it. In work, in my other relationships, and sometimes, when things were very dark, in drink. It’s probably that part of me behind why I finally made the trip out here. A train ride and several taxis later…I don’t mean to complain. I know that’s another one of your gripes.”

Despite all the pain you must’ve felt, you were so quick to smile. You always thought I should find more joy in life. That it would keep me warm through the cold.

“I still don’t know why I feel I need to do this. You won’t respond to me, you can’t even look me in the eye. But you should know you were right about some stuff. Not everything, but enough. About success not being a good substitute for contentment. I…” My voice cracked, but I pushed on. “I-I feel so empty most days. Work is a nice distraction but then I get back home and all I can think about is this, and you.” The family I left behind.

“Over a year. It’s been over a year since we spoke, and then a year to the date since what happened to you, yet I haven’t visited you once.” I reached over and ran the back of my hand across the rough stone surface of my father’s tombstone. It felt as though my flesh began to burn when it crossed the engraved name, tracing further down to the marking that read ‘1955-2021.’ Below that was a bible verse about trusting in God, but my eyes were too blurry to make out the specific words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to apologize, but I feel I can’t do anything else. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I murmured, over and over until I could nothing but the salt rolling down my cheeks.

It was only now I could remember what I had said that sparked our last fight.

‘I wish I had died then too.’

Of course he’d get angry.

I was too. So uselessly furious at myself, with no place to put these emotions and no way to let them out. They bubbled inside of me until I felt I had to see the grave of a man I hadn’t seen in over a year. Because if I didn’t, I feared I would explode.

But this didn’t make me feel any better. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, but it was my own doing.

I didn’t notice the people approaching until I felt the hand on my shoulder, and I glanced up to see the tears in my aunt Jane’s eyes. Her face was normally so carefully blank whenever I’d seen her in the past, but today, for the first time I could remember, cracks ran across the surface.

Beyond her stood my cousin Tom and his family, his wife and three kids. With them was my sister and a ragtag group of our other relatives.

I said nothing as my aunt grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a tight embrace. None of us said anything.

We didn’t need to say anything right now.