Page 5 of Vexed
I would look after Mommy. He had always been the strong one, the one who built our home and chased away the monsters under my bed. He was the one who looked after us, kept us safe and warm and loved. But now, he’s gone. The finality of it resonated deep within me, a chilling understanding that he is never coming back.
My protector, my hero, was gone. And now, it was my turn to try and fill that void, to be strong for Mommy, even if I didn’t know how.
A few days after Daddy passed, I headed to the playground to be alone. The swing set, usually echoing with my joyous shrieks, was deserted under the overcast sky. The house doesn’t feel the same anymore.
It’s quiet, a hollow silence that amplifies the absence of his booming laugh and the gentle hum of his presence. The air feels suffocating.
Mommy hasn’t stopped crying, her sobs a constant, heart-wrenching soundtrack to our unbearable new reality.
Some of our family members have come to pay their respects, and to help with the overwhelming arrangements for the funeral. But their presence, though well-intentioned, just adds to the feeling of being trapped.
It is too hard for me to be in that house. Every room holds a memory, a ghost of him lingering in the air. Everything is just a mess—emotions, paperwork, the lingering scent of his cologne.
I needed to escape, to find a small pocket of peace, even if only for a little while, beneath the watchful eyes of the silent playground equipment.
Why did you have to go, Daddy?
Sitting on the swing by myself—as usual, the familiar deep voice breaks the silence and I don’t even have to look to know who it is.
“Need some company?” He asks, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the wooden planks of the old swing as he settles beside me.
The rusted chains groan in protest under his weight, a mournful sound that echoes the ache in my own heart. I turn to look at him, but my vision is blurred, the world swimming behind a wall of tears that were threatening to spill.
“What’s wrong, little one?” He frowns, his brow furrowing with concern.
“My daddy died,” I choke out, the words a ragged sob tearing through the quiet afternoon.
The world shrinks to the size of the knot in my throat. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer any platitudes or empty reassurances, and the silence hangs heavy between us. The only sounds audible are my soft sobs, punctuated by occasional, hiccuping sniffs.
“I am…so sorry, Lily,” he finally says, his voice laced with genuine sorrow, making me turn to face him fully. His expression is gentle, his features softened with empathy.
“Everything will be alright,” he comforts me. He places a gentle hand on my shoulder, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of my dress.
His silver eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, are now filled with a profound softness, staring at me with an unwavering kindness. I always found his eyes so mesmerizing, like lookinginto the depths of a clear, moonlit lake, and even now, through my tears, they hold a strange comfort.
He slowly leans down, kisses my forehead softly, and gets up off the swing. I don’t look at him as he disappears from my view, too lost in thought about what we’re going to do without my dad. He was the one who made sure we were taken care of. He was the best dad ever and now… he’s gone.
A gasp escapes my lips as a giant, black crow lands on the ground before me.
“Oh my—Vex, look,” I exclaim, turning around to where I thought he would be, but he’s gone.
“Vex?” Looking around, my eyes scanning around the playground, he seemed to have vanished…again. Why is everyone leaving me? I know I didn’t really talk to Vex, but I didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t have to say anything. Him being here would’ve been enough.
I look back at the crow and notice it staring back at me, tilting its head before suddenly taking off, flying away into the distance.
Everything went silent. Not even a sound of a breeze in the air. All the sounds of chirping birds have gone silent too. I get up off the swing and wrap my arms around me as I look around the playground.
And here I stand, all alone—again.
Sitting on the cool, dewy ground, I cross my legs and feel the blades of grass tickling my fingertips. It’s been two long weeks since Daddy’s funeral. The scent of freshly turned earth lingers in the air as I begged Mommy to bring me here today. I wanted to see his newly placed headstone. I fix my gaze on the words engraved in the stone, my fingers tracing the smooth surface.
‘William Bennett, loving husband, brother and father’—those words perfectly describe who he was. He was the most cheerful and loving person you’d ever meet. Always there to lend a helping hand, always ready to brighten someone’s day. The sight of his name etched in stone brings a mix of sadness and pride to my heart.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves fill my ears. Memories of Daddy flood my mind. He was the type of dad that other kids would dream of having.
He never raised his voice at me, never laid a hand on me. His patience was boundless, as he listened to my childish ramblings as if they were the most profound words he had ever heard.
I inhale deeply, taking in the earthy scent of the grass beneath me. Daddy always said that there was something special about being different. Mommy, on the other hand, always worried and took me to countless doctors in search of answers.
