| My favorite piece ever. Period. Dedicated to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, two of the most amazingly brutal people to ever walk this earth. You guys rock! |
“Hello, Ethan.”
Ethan didn’t answer. But, of course, he hadn’t answered in twelve long years, and he wasn’t about to start.
“Can you believe it’s been another whole year? I was going to play a new song for you, but my violin is being repaired.” Susan’s voice broke, though she held back her tears as she laid her flowers in front of the grave and settled on her knees at the foot of where the coffin was, six feet beneath the soft grass. She ran a trembling hand over the greenery, as though reassuring the earth of her presence there would bring him back.
But it hadn’t yet, and it never would.
The smell of springtime was in the air, and a fat, placid bumblebee flew past the well kept headstone, on its way back to the hive somewhere. A miniature flag blew merrily in the slight breeze from beside the grave, and as Susan gazed at it, the pain that never quite subsided flared up stronger in the center of her chest. Her breath shuddered, and she couldn’t help herself anymore.
“I miss you.” Was all she managed before the bittersweet tears began to roll down her face for what was probably the millionth time in over a decade.
Susan Daniels tipped herself sideways gracefully and lay down beside the grave, sobs absolutely silent, as they always were. Her white, flowing spring wrap would end up covered in grass stains, but she didn’t care. She bit her lip through the knifing pain in her heart, not caring if she bled or not.
In a few minutes, she was able to control herself, but stayed there, curled up in the carefully cut grass, with her arm draped over the area in front of the headstone, as though her husband was laying right beside her- and, in essence, he was.
“Honey, you should see her. She’s almost all grown up. She’s so beautiful.” Susan sniffed, a blade or two tickling her nose in the process. Suddenly, she smiled, a hollow shell of what had once been filled with nothing but life, vivacity, and ambition. Memories came flooding back, and they made her feel just a little bit better. In the not-so-far-away distance of reality, she could hear someone giggle. The irreverence of the little laugh was enough to make her tears dry up entirely.
“Mom! Where’d you go? I caught one!” The same giggling voice said, a little closer than before, and Susan found the strength to lift herself up and motion to her daughter.
“I’m right here, sweetie. C’mere, let me see it!” She called, and sat up again, dusting herself off and straightening her tank top. The girl approached, her driving cap falling forwards just a bit on straight, honey-blonde hair. She nodded at the grave as she plunked down on the other side of it., careful to keep her hand over the jar that contained her special prize.
Inside the jar, a small orange butterfly stilled, looking around at its clear prison with what could only be described as bug-like curiosity. Susan’s face softened further, and she placed her hands over her daughter’s, who grinned.
“Amazing.” She beamed gently, a youthful glow returning to her face. Amanda rolled her eyes.
“It’s just a butterfly, mom.”
“No, I meant you.”
The tween blushed a little, and made a little muffled noise.
“I’m so lucky my friends aren’t here.”
“So am I- it wouldn’t be as peaceful.”
They both laughed. Suddenly, Amanda looked thoughtful, and looked from the grave to her mother with a strange gleam in her hazel eyes.
“Mom…what was dad like?”
This surprised Susan like nothing else had in the passing of many, many moons. Amanda had barely turned one when Ethan had died- in a short time after his passing, it was as though she’d never even met the man. As a child, she’d asked a few questions, such as “where’s my daddy,” and, “why do my friends have daddies, but I don’t?” Questions that made Susan feel horribly bitter and angry that he had left her like that, so suddenly. For a long time, she had blamed the government for stealing Ethan’s life away in what felt like the blink of an eye, but those wounds had long since healed. All that was left was an empty heart, and a slight sense of guilt that she could never quite psychoanalyze away.
As Amanda Daniels had aged, however, the questions had become less and less frequent. She never asked, she never looked at the pictures on the walls from practical eons ago- she just took her involuntarily single-parent style of being raised as the norm, for her, and that was that.
A bit taken aback, Susan thought for a moment, eyes glazing over as she worked out the words that would make her daughter understand- yet not miss- what she was lacking in her life.
“Well, honey…he was….he was the greatest man I’ve ever known. He was handsome, sensitive, romantic…sure, he had his moments, but I wouldn’t have changed a one of them. He pushed me to follow my dream to become a violinist. He joined the Reserves because he wanted to protect not only us, but everything that makes us happy and gives us such wonderful lives. And that’s just….that’s just what he did.”
Amanda had stars in her eyes.
“Wow. You know, mom, when you talk about him, you look so…different. You look like you’re young again.”
Susan made a face and swatted at her daughter, who jerked back with a smirk.
“Hey. I am young, thank you.”
A comfortable silence settled between the two ladies settled in the grass. Susan studied her daughter. She could see herself in the soon-to-be-thirteen year old, but she could see her husband even more. Reaching out, she brushed a piece of hair out of Amanda’s face.
“You remind me so much of him.”
A strange look settled on the girl’s face, and she shifted, crawling across the ground to lean her head on her mother’s shoulder and careful not to shake the jar.
“Really? How? Everyone always tells me I’m a lot like you.”
“Oh, yeah, but that’s because they didn’t know Ethan.” She chuckled.
“So…what makes me like Dad?” Amanda lifted the jar to her eyes and peered in, absorbed by the beautiful creature inside.
Susan sighed and closed her eyes, breathing in the pleasant scents of the cemetery. She collected herself before she answered.
“Well, for one, you have his laugh. You’ve got his smile, his ears, his height…you both yawn the exact same way at the breakfast table. He was allergic to pine nuts, just like you. You’re great at sports- he was great at sports. He was a math whiz- it’s your favorite subject. And so many other little things that you do are just like the things your father did. When I look at you, I know he’s still here with us, watching over us and keeping us both safe. If he could tell you so, I know he tell you he loves you and he’s so very proud of you. I know I am.”
Amanda took this in with a slow nod.
“I sort of remember…this one time…I was trying to escape my high chair, I think. Dad picked me up, so I didn’t fall out, and sat me on his lap until I fell asleep.”
Susan gasped.
“You remember that?”
“A little, yeah.” Amanda shrugged, holding the jar out to her mother, who still had a hand on top of it. They lifted the jar together, and on the count of three, lifted their hands from the mouth of the container. The butterfly took a moment to gather its wits before a gentle beat of its wings sent it floating into the air and towards the brightly shining sun. Amanda stretched and pushed herself up off the ground. Susan smiled.
“Come on, now, help this old lady up.” She took her daughter’s hands and let herself be helped to her feet. With one last look back and after blowing a kiss to the grave, Susan and her daughter headed back towards their car. As they walked, Amanda looked up at her mother.
“Mom…are you ever going to date again?”
“Mm…not likely.”
“Well…why not? What about that cellist from the company? He’s into you, you know.”
Susan rolled her shoulders, and a little bit of a shy grin touched upon the corners of her lips.
“I know. But…Amanda…I’m still so in love with your father. I can’t really betray that. Maybe someday I’ll be able to date again, but…not yet.”
Amanda’s posture slumped; she assumed a dreamy expression.
“God, you guys must’ve been like a fairy tale. I hope I’m that in love with someone someday. But…I don’t think I could ever be as strong as you’ve been.”
Susan inclined her head. The sun lit up her own honey hair, and for a moment, dressed all in white and bathed in a golden halo, she looked otherworldly.
“Oh, honey. It’s not strength. It’s patience. True love never dies. The people may pass on, but love doesn’t know that. Really, I’m just a waiting passenger at a bus stop. I didn’t catch the same ride as your father, but that’s just fine. Someday, though...somewhere, he’ll meet me there. Because I just know he’s been waiting as long as I have.”
As the mother-daughter duo slipped into their car and drove away, a petite orange butterfly landed on a headstone to rest. After but a moment, it took off, gliding along as it flitted between the stones, and likely unaware of the stories that brought all time and space together in a single carved dash between two numbers, and the blank space just after the final digit.
| My first technical photomanipulation. 'Twas quite fun! |
Portrait:-Defined as a bust (upper body and head- nothing below the biceps is drawn) of a single character. Simple background included in base price. Full Body:-Defined as a full (or spanning the body from wherever you’d like, to increase the impact of the picture) view of a single character. Simple background included in base price. Illustrations:-Defined as a complete scene, with as many characters as necessary, with a complex background included in base price. Reference Sheets:-Defined as a single page of character information, including, but not limited to- full frontal view, bust portrait view, bust 3/4 view, specific personal effects and abilities (such as an important piece of jewelry, the ability to change eye color or morph, etc), and three expression views. Graphic design background included in base price. Current Commissions: |
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