A fathers confession

“I’m sorry that I have to tell you this way.”

So began the first line of his diary. 

John had found it laying on his fathers bedside table, next to the floral porcelain mug and his fathers reading glasses. 

Now he was sitting on the neatly made bed holding his fathers thoughts in his hand, flipping through the pages and through a part of his fathers life previously inaccessible to him. 

Out in the corridor his sister was talking to Ellie, the nurse who had found their father the night before. Thankfully he’d passed away peacefully in his sleep, alone, but peacefully. She’d found him when she had done her rounds around ten, at first she thought that he’d been asleep when she were about to administer his medicine. He’d been laying still, his arms tucked in under the blankets, finally at rest. 

John flipped the yellowed notebook back to the first page again. He read the words up top one more time. Written in crooked handwriting forged by years of hard labor. 

“I’m sorry that I have to tell you this way.”

The last year had been tough on his father. 

His lungs had gotten worse and worse each day, that’s what smoking does to you. His coughings got worse, to the point where he would throw fits if he exerted himself just slightly. 

His work didn’t help either. 

Years of hard work at the cement factory had diagnosed him with stone lung. Add to that the constant smoking and John was amazed that his father even managed to breath at all. 

The man who in Johns childhood had been a hero, ever with a smile on his lips and his brown hair disheveled and filled with sawdust from a project he’s been working on. Had crumbled before him, day by day, eaten away before him and his sister.  

John tried to visit him as often as he could. 

Atleast, that’s what he told himself. 

Sitting here, in the bed where his father had laid, alone for far too long, he couldn’t help himself but being honest. 

He hadn’t visited enough. No nearly enough. 

Maria on the other hand, she visited him nearly every day. 

God damn it. 

He placed the notebook on the nights stand and stood up. The setting sun had taken a golden hue, sending rays of yellow and orange scattering through the window. John turned and took in the scene, this room had been his fathers life the last couple of days. His bed, a small tv placed on a drawer opposite of the bed, his favorite reading chair and a stack of books neatly piled beside his nightstand.

“Thank you for your help Ellie, we really appreciate everything you’ve done for him”

John joined his sister out in the hallway. 

Maria had already begun filling boxes with plates and cutlery, nothing were taped shut, but she’d already marked the boxes with “kitchen”. The day had been really ruff on his sister, she’d at most gotten thirty minutes of sleep and it had left its traces. Her blond long hair was tied in a knot, but most of it had escaped and hung loose down her shoulders, and her eyes was read and swollen from the intermittent cryings. 

“Don’t mention it Maria, Carl was a friend. I’m just glad that he finally found some peace from the coughing.”

Ellie took Marias arm and stroke it with comfort. 

“Try to get some sleep dear and we can talk further tomorrow.”

John placed a hand on his sister's shoulder and Maria took it and gripped it tight, he could see the tears start to form in her eyes again. 

“Thank you, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Ellie gave the two a smile and then made her way out to her car. 

“How are you doing?” Maria wiped some tears from her eyes, her makeup was non existent at this point. 

John sighed and sat down in a chair in the living room, a small clud of dust shot up in the afternoon light around him. 

“I’m doing okay I guess, just.. You know.” 

“I know. But John…”

Maria sat down on the brown leather sofa next to a stack with magazines. Around them were small stacks of different hobby magazines that their father had collected over the years. When it got obvious to him that he couldn’t manage to get out any more, he started reading instead. That got him into the habit of always buying more and more magazines with various crafts. 

Maria continued. 

“You know how hard it was for him to communicate how he felt.”

John removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t gotten alot of sleep last night either. 

“I know.. I know.”

“He told me just last week that he was sad that he hadn’t talked to you in a while.”

“But if it made him sad, why didn’t he call?” John put on his glasses again and turned from his sister. 

“Now it’s too late. I’m not sad really, I’m just.. Disappointed I guess.”

“Dissapointed?” Maria gave him a confused look. 

“Yeah.” John continued. “In myself mostly.” 

“Looking back at it now, it was just a shitty argument. You know how he gets, stubborn, wont budge.”

Maria smiled at him. “I know where I’ve seen that before.” John answered with a drag on his lips.

“But it just irritated me you know? Seeing him.. Like this. Fading. I told him that he should move in with us, me and Linda and the kids. That he would be more comfortable. But the man didn’t budge.”

John straightened his arms, stretching them. 

“He took it like I accused him of being weak, told me that he didn’t need a baby sitter. Can you believe it?” 

John turned and faced his sister again, eyes watering again. 

“Everything just went south from there, he brought up his drivers license shit again and we didn’t talk anymore after that.”

“I know.” Maria sighed and wiped her eyes again. 

They sat quiet like that for a moment, the sun started setting outside and the house grew quiet. Ater a moment had passed John stood up and straightened his back. He started lighting some ceiling lamps and went in to the kitchen. 

“Sis.” He called out. 

“Yeah?” Maria stood up and straightened her shirt. She looked haggard and John could see that she was in dire need of sleep. He sighed and closed the fridge door. 

“Go home and get some rest. I’ll lock up when I’m done, I’m just going to check on the plumbing real quick.” 

Maria stifled a yawn and gave him a questioning look.

“You sure?” 

John gave her a hug and ruffled her hair a bit. 

“Yeah I’m sure. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Maria smiled at him. “Okay, and John, don’t be too hard on yourself okay?”

He followed her to the door, and locked it behind her as she left. After making himself a sandwich he found himself back in his fathers room. 

As he ate his sandwich he looked at the different paintings that hung on the bright panel walls. They depicted various landscapes and flower arrangements that their mother had been really fond of. 

As he sat there on his fathers bed, surrounded by the life his father had lived on the end he was suddenly struck by a wave of grief. Memories of his childhood sitting in the passenger seat listening to various rock bands together with his father flooded his mind. 

It was the first time since he’d gotten the call that he actually felt sad. 

It hit him all at once, grief, loss, guilt. 

Tears started rolling down his cheeks.

He wrapped himself in a blanket that was folded on the foot end of the bed. It smelled of his fathers cologne, stark cedarwood, and picked up the notebook again from his nightstand. He switched on the lamp and leaned down on to the bed to get some more light.

The yellowed pages ruffled beneath his thumbs and he opened up the book to the first page again and started reading. 

“I’m sorry I have to tell you this way.” The words began. 

“John, if you’re reading this. I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier.” John blinked, his eyes burning now filled with tears, his hands trembled as he steadied himself from dropping the notebook. 

“I love you.”