POSTED 03/28/2018 14:09:13
Funny wall paints; red, black, crimson. Just funny. Gazing through this time more intensely, I noticed loose threads dropping from the ceiling. These threads gave the shape of a circle alongside coated dust. The ceiling was not usual or normal, my whole palm could touch it, and come to think of it, I wasn’t the tallest person in the building, my dad was, that’s why he always complained of back and neck aches, he was just too tall.
The walls smelt of cold and desolation, the tiles, sorry the floor had its own distinct smell but I couldn’t figure that out. My old man seemed weary, and I asked him.
“Dad can’t we take a break? we’ve been working all day” Not long before I knew it, he had dozed off on the armless kitchen chair.
Tiredness and fatigue had lured him to sleep and all my talk posed to be a lullaby for the stressed out figure. I stood there in admiration, I mean his muscular body and well-tanned skin, my father was a very skilled mason, who ensured he gave his best of services, I knew much about this because I accompanied him several times to his workplace, which was mostly situated at a building site.
At a young age I knew lots of building materials, measurements of doors, and so on. He always shunned me from following him to work and pressed on the matter of schooling in a formal setting. I became upset anytime he raised the topic because I really enjoyed his workplace. The shiny roofs, blunt and bent nails, dusty atmosphere and especially his colleague’s funny chitchats.
And on the school matter I had no zeal or rather I feared that our worse situation might become worse, as we very much lived from hand to mouth. My dad seemed to be a mind reader because he really saw through my head. I knew this when he made a shocking sentence.
He said “John-Richard you’ll start school tomorrow.”
I stood in astonishment and disbelief. His eyeballs were fixed intensely at mine. I knew he was being real serious, before I could speak, he stood up, made entry to his room, more like a storeroom. I had angered him I thought. Shivering with fear, I wished I were resilient because the last time he got upset and beat me, we experienced leaks for 2 days until it was patched up.
3 hours passed he wasn’t out yet, so in disguise of serving him food I disturbed his door with several knocks. No reply. I quietly turned the almost damaged knob and gained entrance. Tears slowly sipped out from my eyes, I didn’t know why but it really burnt my cheeks. I saw my dad sleeping on the chair beside his bed, on the table in front of him was a white empty bottle with no label. Different thoughts ran through my mind, very negative ones. Then I remembered, my dad always snored when he was asleep, but there was no snore, no deep breathings, then what?
More thoughts clouded my mind, mustering up courage, I decided to wake him up. I pushed him, pushed and pushed again. I started shouting for help, but none came, all I heard were echoes. I rolled his sleeves to check his pulse, as I had earlier learnt this from one of his colleagues.
“No pulse!!! Hey!!” I screamed.
This time I ran out with an outburst of tears to get real help. As I ran I wondered why he did it, why. Before I knew it, more than 10 men came towards me, his colleagues inclusive. I guess they heard my shouts. With tears I narrated my ordeal, and they swung into action. A little bit far it was, as our house was located at the outskirts. In a matter of minutes we reached. They rushed him to the hospital. And in a matter of moments I became fatherless.
No relatives, no friends to turn to, I became a pitiable example of suffering. In less than 10 years I became an orphan. The only thing till this day that goes through my mind is “why suicide,”
Was I a burden? A curse? Was I not wanted? If not why suicide?
Did you enjoy the story? Let your friends know about it