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Uncle's Diary - Part 2
I couldn’t shake those words from my mind, they replayed themselves so much that I got completely crazy, I mean I always had the impression of women being overly emotional, which fuelled my confusion even more, mother had never said those words before in her life, and especially if it had to do with a loss of a close family member, so this puzzled me. She was always as kind as possible, and she never gave grief towards any person, but I saw a different Persona of hers that day, she seemed more calmer than usual, I mean no parent is ever calm when dealing with three kids, but it seemed as though she was another woman which I had never met before.
And yet she addressed me the same way she always did, with a little smile on her face, not even a single tear in sight, she called my name, with the same voice, as sweet and clear as always, I had wanted to ask her many times about her unusual behaviour, yet words seem to get entangled on my throat every time, all I could say was, “ are u ok mom?”. And a simple smile creeped up on her face again, she told me that what had occurred was ‘inevitable’ all I could do right then was stare at her, and as much as I tried to make eye contact she avoided the chance of our eyes meeting under any circumstances, you could actually feel the tension between us whenever I got near her.
And at times I felt she knew that I saw what had happened to Uncle but then again, I don’t really know what I saw, all I could remember was the pain in his eyes the moment he moved the chair beneath him, those few seconds seemed like a lifetime to me, it was the last moments I spent watching him alive, he had always seemed warm and comforting towards me, but each member was like that towards the kids so I’m also not sure about his real feelings. Yet all I could ask myself at that point was ‘ Why?’, I still don’t get why such a man would have suicide near his brilliant mind.
The house seemed lonely that day, everything seemed misplaced, I mean the whole family was present but no one actually felt the way I did, nobody even asked what happed, and I mean no one, not even his wife, she seemed more stunned then most of us at the moment, mother said that she was still in shock, that she would snap out of it after a couple of hours, you could see the pain in her eyes, a single most unify stare towards the floor, she sat there for so long that I lost count of the hours I spent trying to read her thoughts, yet still no tears to show, as they took uncle down from the sealing, I couldn’t stop looking at the chair on the floor, I couldn’t help thinking of how I had the chance of saving him from committing such a grave sin, I looked at the same chair which I would have held up and saved the life of my own uncle, the same chair which he kicked down in his attempt of suicide, the same chair which was my favourite for years, the same chair which he sat on in the dining hall.
He would look like the king of the table, which a smile to add on to his glory, he always had the greatest stories, I especially loved the ones about him back in the day when he was a pirate, it was riveting to think about the adventures he used to have as a young man in the vast Sea, how fearful he must have grown to be from all his experiences, the scares he used to show me, to show me how much of a man being a Pirate made him, and i couldn’t help but respect him more after each story, he had the best bedtime stories to tell, all my expectations of him were always set to rest, thus the love I had towards him.
The chair betrayed me that day, for taking away my perfectly, brave uncle, as I stared at it, all I could think of was setting it on fire, just to give my fair wells to it, as such a betrayal can never be undone. I’ll never forget that hatred.
His eye balls were in a perfectly white shape, as white as snow at its earliest start of hail, he seemed more peaceful to me for some reason, as if a huge cloud had been erased above his head, his body perfectly still, yet too relaxed for a person who had been in pain for more than five minutes, his tongue right outside his mouth, but a little more sprayed to his right hand side, both his hands in a perfect fist, as if he was getting ready for a fight, pity it was his own self as an enemy, no soldier deserved such a horror, yet the bravest man I knew chose the same fate which was as much as a taboo in my defence, he chose this fate as being perfect towards his demise.
The same hands which had saved him from the hands of death a million times, those same hands were the accomplices of his sudden demise, the same hands which tuck me to bed every night, those same hands which played a role towards my perfect sleep. Those same hands took away my happiness. A happiness which I had always convinced myself that I would always have, the same happiness which was snatched away from me in a matter of a few minutes, such an unfair change of fate I might say, but this was my life now, I thought to myself as I looked at his wife.
She still stared at the floor, she didn’t even have the decency to look at her own dead husband, a man which was once the love of her life, a man which she always seemed to admire more than life itself, and still her eyes seemed so serial for some reason, she looked like she was still in disbelief of what had unravelled in her own presence, you could see the anger she felt, she was so displaced that she couldn’t even notice when mom gave a cup of her favourite coffee, she was always adamant about how perfectly done she wanted her coffee that when she chose to take her first, there wasn’t even an inch of movement, I mean she didn’t even complain about the sugar content, we all knew that she took a strictly plain coffee, but that day she drank it with everything inside of it.
...
© nosihlekatherine
And yet she addressed me the same way she always did, with a little smile on her face, not even a single tear in sight, she called my name, with the same voice, as sweet and clear as always, I had wanted to ask her many times about her unusual behaviour, yet words seem to get entangled on my throat every time, all I could say was, “ are u ok mom?”. And a simple smile creeped up on her face again, she told me that what had occurred was ‘inevitable’ all I could do right then was stare at her, and as much as I tried to make eye contact she avoided the chance of our eyes meeting under any circumstances, you could actually feel the tension between us whenever I got near her.
And at times I felt she knew that I saw what had happened to Uncle but then again, I don’t really know what I saw, all I could remember was the pain in his eyes the moment he moved the chair beneath him, those few seconds seemed like a lifetime to me, it was the last moments I spent watching him alive, he had always seemed warm and comforting towards me, but each member was like that towards the kids so I’m also not sure about his real feelings. Yet all I could ask myself at that point was ‘ Why?’, I still don’t get why such a man would have suicide near his brilliant mind.
The house seemed lonely that day, everything seemed misplaced, I mean the whole family was present but no one actually felt the way I did, nobody even asked what happed, and I mean no one, not even his wife, she seemed more stunned then most of us at the moment, mother said that she was still in shock, that she would snap out of it after a couple of hours, you could see the pain in her eyes, a single most unify stare towards the floor, she sat there for so long that I lost count of the hours I spent trying to read her thoughts, yet still no tears to show, as they took uncle down from the sealing, I couldn’t stop looking at the chair on the floor, I couldn’t help thinking of how I had the chance of saving him from committing such a grave sin, I looked at the same chair which I would have held up and saved the life of my own uncle, the same chair which he kicked down in his attempt of suicide, the same chair which was my favourite for years, the same chair which he sat on in the dining hall.
He would look like the king of the table, which a smile to add on to his glory, he always had the greatest stories, I especially loved the ones about him back in the day when he was a pirate, it was riveting to think about the adventures he used to have as a young man in the vast Sea, how fearful he must have grown to be from all his experiences, the scares he used to show me, to show me how much of a man being a Pirate made him, and i couldn’t help but respect him more after each story, he had the best bedtime stories to tell, all my expectations of him were always set to rest, thus the love I had towards him.
The chair betrayed me that day, for taking away my perfectly, brave uncle, as I stared at it, all I could think of was setting it on fire, just to give my fair wells to it, as such a betrayal can never be undone. I’ll never forget that hatred.
His eye balls were in a perfectly white shape, as white as snow at its earliest start of hail, he seemed more peaceful to me for some reason, as if a huge cloud had been erased above his head, his body perfectly still, yet too relaxed for a person who had been in pain for more than five minutes, his tongue right outside his mouth, but a little more sprayed to his right hand side, both his hands in a perfect fist, as if he was getting ready for a fight, pity it was his own self as an enemy, no soldier deserved such a horror, yet the bravest man I knew chose the same fate which was as much as a taboo in my defence, he chose this fate as being perfect towards his demise.
The same hands which had saved him from the hands of death a million times, those same hands were the accomplices of his sudden demise, the same hands which tuck me to bed every night, those same hands which played a role towards my perfect sleep. Those same hands took away my happiness. A happiness which I had always convinced myself that I would always have, the same happiness which was snatched away from me in a matter of a few minutes, such an unfair change of fate I might say, but this was my life now, I thought to myself as I looked at his wife.
She still stared at the floor, she didn’t even have the decency to look at her own dead husband, a man which was once the love of her life, a man which she always seemed to admire more than life itself, and still her eyes seemed so serial for some reason, she looked like she was still in disbelief of what had unravelled in her own presence, you could see the anger she felt, she was so displaced that she couldn’t even notice when mom gave a cup of her favourite coffee, she was always adamant about how perfectly done she wanted her coffee that when she chose to take her first, there wasn’t even an inch of movement, I mean she didn’t even complain about the sugar content, we all knew that she took a strictly plain coffee, but that day she drank it with everything inside of it.
...
© nosihlekatherine
