The Memory of You

The day was September 9th. My mother and I were in the car on the way to the cemetery, where we were going to visit my late father. She parked the car and we got out. We bought four carnations from the flower girl and walked to the grave. He was at the end of the cemetery, died seven years ago, strucked by blood cancer, also known as leukemia. His death was a shock to all of us, especially to my mother. I could never get close to him because he was always working and there was no time for me. That’s why I’m not very traumatized when I come here. I don’t have the memories that every child has with their father.

He worked as a policeman, always absent for missions and business trips. I was eight years old when he died. No one let me see his face before he was buried because I was small. I wished I could spend a day with him, I had a lot of questions. I wanted to know why this was happening and why I couldn’t have a father like any other child had.

Mother kept saying that no matter how difficult life is for you, you must always respond with strength and reason.

And here we are, stopping in front of the tomb, on whose tombstone was written the name “Samuel Myers”, and below it was a detailed description and verses. The wind blew, carrying a few yellowed leaves in front of us. I bent down and placed the flowers in front of him and stared at the tombstone. My mother cried, as she does every year. I couldn’t, I didn’t feel the need to cry, not when I didn’t have it.

“He always asked about you,” - she sobbed. - “Every night when you slept, he called to ask how you were and how your day went.”

“Why didn’t he go home to ask me in person?” - I replied in a cold tone.

“There was no way …” - my mother said. - “He was working.”

“What kind of person puts his job in front of his family.”

“Don’t talk about your father like that, Leo. He did everything for us. ”

“What did he do so much that in eight years he never saw his son for more than a few hours?” - I shouted.

“I will share with you a story you don’t know and you couldn’t have known as a child. Your father worked in two places at the same time so he could support us. The police at the time did not pay much, especially to us blacks. At night he was a company security guard, and in his spare time he went to clean houses. He rarely had the opportunity to go home, and at one point the disease drove him away. Only if you know how much I wanted to help make money, but they didn’t take black women anywhere, they called us monsters. All I could do was stay home and teach you a good upbringing and take care of you. When your father fell ill, I had no choice but to beg. After a while I managed to find a normal job, and look at me now - CEO of one of the most successful companies in the country. ” - she grinned. - “If Samuel were alive, he would be proud of me now, and even more so of you.”

My tears kept flowing as if they were burning my face. I couldn’t believe her words, but there was no way it could be a lie.

My mother hugged me and buried my face between her head and shoulder, crying even harder. At that moment, I regretted all those seven years that I had come here and not felt lost. I realized how difficult it was for my parents to raise me in these conditions, and their desire to have a family was inviolable. I turned to the tombstone once more and said, “I’m sorry, Dad!”

“He didn’t want you to know about it. He wanted you to think I was the better parent. Samuel knew about his illness before you were born, and he knew he wouldn’t live to see you until now. And when you’re not as close to someone as you two weren’t, you don’t feel that way. And I remain, your loving mother. ”

I leaned over and put my hand on the earth’s grave, closing my eyes.

“I don’t hate you, Dad. I’m sorry I behaved like that and didn’t take you in your last days. I miss you, me and mom do. I have so much to tell, which means I will come here often to talk! ” - I smiled slightly.

As I withdrew my hand, I unwittingly dug some of the soil and a flower stalk stretched out from under it. I couldn’t tell exactly what it looked like, but I could think that was the way he answered me.

Life brings us all good and bad moments. Some we cannot determine because we have no idea what is happening on the other side. Seeing only the bad side of a person does not mean that he is bad or terrible. It means that he is either not able to show his good, or he is afraid of it. Do not judge people by their actions in the past or present, everyone has a reason behind them. For example, I judged my father for never having time for me and preferring his job to being with his family. And I was wrong, I was wrong. Caring for someone is not just about hugs and kisses, which I almost didn’t have. This concern lies in what a person does for you and whether you know it or not. Respect your parents, whatever they are, no matter how much time they spend with you, they are out there and should always have a place in your heart. Even after thousands of business trips and night shifts, remember that they do it so that you can be well, nourished, clothed and satisfied with your needs.

Over the months, our flower grew and grew, and more of it sprouted, covered the whole grave, it was a miracle, because flowers never sprouted here, only thorns. That was my father, I’m sure. That was his way of communicating with me.

Mother always said that no matter how difficult life is with you, you have to respond with strength and reason.