Step, step, step. Towards the wooden doors you walked, your figure hunched and grey. The entrance, once so welcoming for me was now cold like the biting wind. Heaving open the doors, I watched you shuffle in, taking note of the dusty leaflets as you went. The years of neglect lay thickly across the porch as dust, unbroken by your trailing feet.
Step. Inside, the sunlight broke through the abandoned windows and danced between the shadows like a madman. The cold windows were lit up, shining in the simple beauty of the glass patterns. Your bedraggled mind hadn't noticed this - I had - as you continue trudging past.
Here, you stopped. Approaching the dark, musty choir stalls I saw your mind race and flicker with memories of what had been. Your wrinkled fingers stroked the thin red fabric, wishing for the plush velvet we once knew. Turning your small frame around in the shadows, you now stood face to face with the organ.
The pedals moulded to your large leather shoes, the keys fainted with your fingerprints like the dust on the walls. You fit the organ like an old friend. Like you were meant to be. As you sat down, however, I noticed your mind was not there. It was elsewhere. You glanced out into the blinding sunlight towards me, but your eyes filled with darkness and you turned away. Back to the organ where you were safe.
Our song. I reveled in each note you played, the simplicity of the tune filling my whole body. It fit the look on your face as you eyes filled back in with the serenity I once loved. Your small frame was taken away by the melody, your feet tapping as your body swayed like the breeze. As you reached the end of the song, the Church was ringing in the wake of your tune. Our tune. Although the music may have ceased, even from here I could hear your heart and mind replaying it wildly.
Rising, standing. A cloud of fog erupted from the seat as you left it. I saw, in your hand, your favorite cigar, resting limply in your fingers. AS you lifted it to your mouth, I could already see what you would do next: you stopped. The taste of the tobacco in your mouth was a comfort, the flame in your heart was enough.
I remember. That old, fraying face once filled me with all the joy in the world. The love and kindness unavailable from anywhere else. Everyday as the years go by, I watch that beautiful face empty of emotion.
Then you were behind me - bent in the shadows of the large plane trees.
You turned to face me. In your hand, a beautiful bouquet wilted with the sun. The flowers showed all the brightness and color you lost from your life that day. I could see, in the way you looked at them, that they reminded you of me. You always told me, everyday, that the forget-me-nots were like my eyes. There you stood again, the drooping blossoms your only consolation.
You knelt. The flowers were placed so very tenderly on my chest, like snow falling on the ground. As you stroked my headstone with that unfathomable love, I remembered those words we shared so tenderly that final day. I promise you,Father. My last promise shall be forever kept, because I am not gone. Every thing you say, every thought you have, every thing you do, I am there. Sleeping.