Mirrors’s reflections #1 – Chapter II: And if a house be divided against itself...(ash)

I will be doing a serial titled: Mirror’s reflections. My plan is to post at least a chapter every 24 hours, should my other schedules permit. The story will follow from the #freewrite daily prompts, but not always.
This is chapter II, and it follows from Chapter I

Sofia was lost for words. It was the first time he had this matter-of-factly, alluded to his deteriorating health. Previously he would all together just brush off any fears. But over the past months, it was obvious, the cancer had deteriorated. And the ailment had impacted on his routines. His drinking errands at the market square were now far and in between.

What he wouldn’t stop despite the doctor’s advice, he was now fast becoming incapacitated to do. The difficulty walking due to the equally worsening rheumatics made sure he only occasionally wandered far from home. And his persistent cough only aggravated every time he took the brew.

She hoped, prayed it was not too late. But obviously time was running out for him. Without the procedure, the doctor had estimated two or three years. And that was on condition that he maintained the healthiest of lifestyles; else it would be much less, much earlier. Sofia needed to get the funds needed for the doctor to perform the procedure, else, else… A shudder ran down her spine, the fear of losing him the kind she couldn’t control.

He hadn’t always been the best papa. God knows, she even blamed him, always had. If it wasn’t for him, mama would probably still be alive. But he was still her papa.

Try as she did to trivialize the blame, Sofia’s thoughts still clogged with traces of bitterness at papa, that even sympathy wouldn’t so easily absolve him from. She blamed him for joining the war to wander a lawless wilderness, making sure she didn’t grow to know him, to enjoy him. How and why he preferred roaming the lawless wilderness to the fellowship of their young family, still broke her heart.

But they managed. Mama took the place of two, of mother and father. And gave her as much time and love as she could have wished for. But was it enough? It never is for any child. The love of a father may be replicated, but it cannot be replaced.

She remembered the first nights after he left for the war front, how she would stare at the moonlit skies, praying to God to bring him back. And then the long days watching, staring away into the far plains and lands hoping to see him coming back to her. To them. To their family. To home.

Mama was of course strong, she had to be. Always confident, encouraging, giving assurances that papa would return. But strong as she acted, there were days when that façade fell through. And Sofia would, unnoticed, watch her sob alone.

Finally, the truth was the truth. Papa was gone. And to that truth, time brought clarity, burning to ash her every hope.

But trust fate to surprise, just when they had all but given up, papa returned. The war, he announced that moonless night when he knocked on the door, and she opened for him, was over. And he was home. That moment of standing there looking at her father, but feeling no emotion, remained the most awkward of her days. There he stood, a complete stranger.

But well, he was home. And the family maybe had a second chance to restart. And a second chance it had, except it was for the worst. And so it was that, where until then, she had blamed him for leaving, she would come to blame him for returning.

Because yes, had he never come back, there wouldn’t have been fighting and quarreling with mama, no breaking of plates every time he fought, and no kicking of doors, banging at windows, every time he returned home late and drunk.

And maybe, yes, just maybe, mama wouldn’t have had to keep up with his beatings until her body gave way. The doctors said it was chronic ulcers, but papa’s blows and kicks, his physical aggression must have had their own effect, besides the emotional torture, despite of which, mama to her very last, remained faithful in the hope that he would change.

So yes, she blamed him. And try as she did previously, to trivialize that blame, Sofia had found difficulty forgetting the events of that time. Fortunately, time, and now age, had brought clarity, and clemency, encouraged, above else, by mama's enduring counsel. Her favorite verse during that time of the family's struggles, was etched in Sofia's mind. Mark 3:35.

“And if a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand.”

Without mama, the responsibility to keep the family intact, was now without question, hers. The past had to go. He was still her papa, her responsibility.

Traveled into the past conundrum, Sofia’s mind was only drawn back into the present by her papa’s voice.

“You slept till late. Won’t you be late for the interview?”

Moral lesson:

Make time for your children, build relationship. Else, you will lose them, no matter how much you will later try to make up. The experience of growing up, cannot be reconstructed. If you are not there, at first they will miss you. In wait, they will cry. But finally, they will learn to live without you. And then you will only be a stranger to them.

I. Chapter I: Yellow Horizons