Hope
When I woke this morning, my eyes were full of tears.
Even in my sleep I was crying.
The pain was crippling me.
Sitting on the pew in St. Michael's Church, I sank to my knees and prayed.
I prayed and prayed for god to swoop down and save me from the pain in my heart.
I begged him for mercy.
And then I willed him to give me the strength I needed to survive this.
Because without some divine intervention, I knew I wouldn’t make it.
Footsteps clicked against the marble floor, but I didn't move a muscle.
Not when I already knew who was there.
I knew he had followed me here today.
He'd been following me for weeks.
I felt a small gust of cold air brush against me when he sat down, but I didn’t turn around.
Motionless, I remained on my knees, fingers entwined and clutching my grandma's rosary beads. "God forgive me," I chanted over and over, begging for forgiveness for all the pain and suffering I had put him through. For not appreciating what I had when he was alive. "Please, Lord, forgive my sins."
"God's already forgiven you, Angel," my father whispered, covering my hands with his. "Now it's time for you to do the same."
"Do you think it's possible for a human being to die of a broken heart?" Tears clouded my vision as I turned to my father and confessed, "Because it feels like I'm dying."
"I know, sweetheart," Dad whispered, pulling me into his arm. "If I could take this pain from you, I would."
"Don’t," I sobbed, clinging onto my father's shoulders for dear life. "That's what he used to call me." A pained sob tore from my throat. "Used to."
My father sat beside me, holding my body in his arms like he had from the day he brought me into the world, dying with me, suffering with me, taking my pain and making it his own.
"I love you so much," he continued to whisper. "My daughter. My baby girl. My only little girl. If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t survive. And your baby will know. She will know who her father was, and the sacrifices he made to keep her safe. To keep her mother safe. And I am so proud of you," he whispered. "Of your choices. Of seeing the good beneath the bad. You did good, baby."
"It wasn’t good enough."
"It was for him," Dad soothed. "He died knowing you loved him. Can you imagine what peace that gave him? You gave that to him, Hope Carter. You gave him your heart and a child. He may not be around to watch his child grow up, but I promise, you gave that man peace in his final minutes."
"What if I never see him again?" I sobbed. "What if this…" I waved a hand around the church aimlessly. "Isn't real?"
"That's what faith is, sweetheart," my father replied. "Believe in what your heart tells you. It's rarely wrong."
"Do you believe?" I squeezed out.
"I believe when you are soulmates, you'll find each other again," he told me. "Wherever you go when our time is up on earth."
"I think I need to get away from this place, Dad," I confessed. "I can't be here anymore. It's too hard. Everything reminds me of him and I can't…heal."
"I know," Dad whispered. "Your Mom and I have talked about it, and we both think that's probably for the best." He tightened his arm around my shoulders and said, "I wish you'd speak to your mother, Hope. She loves you so damn much."
"I'm not ready to speak to her," I shot back, feeling a huge burst of anger swell up inside of me. I had avoided every call, text and attempt my mother had made to reach out to me. "She never accepted him," I bit out. "So how can she tell me she's sorry he's dead?"
Dad sighed heavily, but didn’t reply.
I was glad.
I didn’t want to talk about her right now.
"I called your grandma Tracy a few weeks ago," he said instead. "I think you should go and stay with her in Louisiana for a while."
"Am I running?" I choked out. "If I leave, am I failing him?"
"No, Angel, you're not running," he promised, voice thick with emotion. "You're surviving."