Well, here it goes! 'The Bard's Hall Contest' got me blogging again, so wish me luck!
|PROMPT 2: Share a sad story in your blog entry, but not just any sad story, your sad story should have an interesting twist or an unexpected happy ending. Your story can be taken from personal experience, something you witnessed, or completely fictitious.
I lost my mother when I was only sixteen, a junior in high school. I knew she was going to die, but I still prayed for a miracle but to no avail. I missed her; she was the one I always went to with my problems. I coped as best I could as I finished my junior year. My best friend helped me by talking me through my anger at losing my mom. I eventually graduated and got a job as a legal secretary.
My first child died during delivery, an emotionally devastating experience for me! I looked forward to becoming a mother and had to pack up all the baby clothes that I had bought and got at my baby shower. Friends and relatives tried to comfort me as best they could, but I blamed myself. I shouldn’t have hung those curtains in the baby’s room. I kept on like this until my husband said we were going on a vacation, away from all these reminders of what we lost. This helped! We took a two-week Hawaiian vacation. My husband and I talked things through, but we also enjoyed our stay.
I was later blessed with five children. My father moved in with my husband and me when he was diagnosed with liver cancer. He was a big help in taking care of the children when I went back to work. He loved them and they loved him.
Three years later, I came home from work early to find my father dead in his beloved recliner. Thankfully the children were still at school! I was shocked and didn’t know what to do. I ran around in circles, unable to concentrate on any certain thing. With shaking fingers, I grabbed my phone and dialed 911.
Things didn’t get back to normal for quite a while. I would sit in his chair and become lost in memories of my dad always being there for me. The outings we had together, our family picnics, dinner out together, church doings, visiting relatives, vacations together, or going to water parks, watching the children having fun. This became an everyday thing I did, and one day when I was sitting there, daydreaming, I looked up at the ceiling to find a brownish-yellow spot on the ceiling. Where did that come from? I began to pace, trying to figure out which child did that without me noticing. I questioned each one, but they denied having anything to do with it. I thought back to when it seemed to just appear, and began to wonder if my dad was showing me, he was here with us. Each day that went by it got darker and darker. “Dad, I know you are here with us, but that spot is driving me crazy!”
I decided to paint the ceiling that weekend. I asked dad to forgive me, but that spot gave me the creeps; plus, that spot didn’t look pretty. It sure became a conversation piece though!
Well, I painted the ceiling and it looked great once again. The next day the spot came back. “Dad, I know you want to protect us, and I love you for it, but you also know how I loved to keep my house looking beautiful.”
Every one of our friends and relatives had to come and look at the ceiling. I shook my head and laughed it off. “Dad, you can stay! I love you!”