An Embrace

A short story about the loss of someone who is loved.

I wake up surrounded by a garden in the yard of a home. There are rectangle hedges on the edge of the property. On the left are different coloured roses with a big tree providing shade for the petals. On the other side looks like rows of vegetables sprouting.

I am on a narrow, four brick path leading to stairs that lead to a raised platform with a smaller garden on the right and a big triangle shaped house on the left. The big wooden door with small square glass panels is wide open.

And then I see him. He has a long white thobe on with a white fez on his head. He is walking out from the small garden to the landing when he sees me. His eyes light up and a huge smile forms on his lips.

I have tears in my eyes as I run awkwardly towards him. I don’t remember getting up the stairs, but then I feel my head fit snugly under his chin, the point pressing into the top of my head. My arms go around his waist and I lock them, digging my fingers into my own skin. I feel a chuckle rumble in his chest at my, let’s call it enthusiasm, to hold him.

He lifts his hands as he gains his footing and rests them on my shoulders. He taps me there three times and then wraps his arms around my upper back.

My eyes are closed as I rest in the calmness of his space. And then he starts to sway. Gently. Side to side and hums, softly.

As a child he would hold me and hum until I fell asleep. It comforted me so much to feel this vibrate from his chest.

I focused on the life I was feeling from him. I could hear his feet shuffling slightly on the bricks as it rubbed against small stones laying there. His body weight shifted side to side as we swayed. I didn’t want to fall asleep. But I didn’t want to open my eyes either.

All I felt was my father holding me and the humming of his voice. It lulled me into a sense of security and when I opened my eyes I was in my bed and it was 3:30am.

I didn’t move for a few moments because I wanted to fall asleep again. Maybe he would come back.

But I could feel my heart was beating like an awake person. I wouldn’t be able to go back.

Just like he couldn’t come back.

He died of a heart attack two Fridays ago. Like his brothers and sisters, he left at 61.

Perhaps the weight of their brown skin was too much for their hearts to bear.