Immortale

... and I am scared as hell.

Raindrops accompanying the grey skies only enhance the misery of the moment. The bitterness in my heart... I can almost taste it in my mouth. Where will I go from here? What will I do now? I wish I knew the answers. Answers that always hide when you most need them and are too weary to play hide-and-seek.

The umbrella my aunt holds above my head and her bony hand around my shoulder do not provide any shelter or comfort. People in the graveyard, gathered to witness my father's last journey, only seem like shadows around one's bed at night. Are they there to keep company throughout a peaceful night's sleep or do they actually foretell the nightmares that await? You never know.

This is the first time in 21 years that I am without him. My protector, my only friend, my sanctuary... The words spilling into the air through the priest's mouth dissipate in the cool, fall wind. I know it well enough that words mean little. I do not care where my father is going or will be in the coming days, months, years...

The thought of years bring tears in my eyes.

A knife presses in my throat forcing a sob out of me. I do not yield to it.

I just want him back, standing right where my aunt is and telling me what to do. Is that so wrong? Is that too much to ask? It feels as if all of a sudden, I am shoved forward on the street and a door closed behind me. Behind that door, there is comfort, coziness, warmth and security.

Behind that door, it was home.

If I can't go back in where will I go?

I feel my insides trembling with silenced opposition as the coffin is lowered into the ground. I hate to make a scene. I know that this moist cloud of silhouettes expect me to shed tears of gloom. How come people wait for you to suffer openly and tend to get disappointed when you don't? I want to run and hide, crawl and shout, cry myself dry and fall asleep until I can't cry any longer. I just want to do it all by myself. I don't need the company of pitying stares to justify my pain.

I don't want to share my pain. It is all mine!

The ground gets muddier. The priest says his last prayers. I take a step forward and cast one last look on the creamy white coffin. It is his home now. I whisper "Bye..." and drop the pink carnation I have been holding as one last gift. Wet leaves scatter in the cool breeze. Shovels dig into the earth to begin their forlorn ceremony.

Then, the silhouettes break off one by one because the tie that binds them here is no more.

I hear my aunt's voice and feel her hand directing me forward. I resist. "Autumn?", she asks gently.

"I want to stay here a little longer", I reply, my voice dry as opposed to the tears welling up inside.

"We'll be by the car", she says and thrusts the umbrella in my cold hand. I nod. She leaves my side.

I watch the two men work and listen to the rain pattering on the umbrella. Everything is grey, everything is wet. I stand there a little longer, engulfed in memories that embrace me one after another. The handmade swing in the backyard, the bedtime stories, the smell of pancakes in the morning, the two comfy chairs across the fireplace, the mahogany table in the study, the two mugs that stand side by side on the kitchen counter...

Everything in that house says I am all alone now...

... and I am scared as hell.