There had been a gap of three years since the last time Walter had spoken with his daughter, Lydia. It had been three long years, and each day had stretched out like an infinite length of rope, stretching tight under the weight of something that had not been acknowledged. The quiet that existed between them was not just the lack of words; rather, it was a persistent aching in his chest, the type of pain that never completely subsided.
That disagreement occurred three years ago. The last time they said farewell was three years ago, and at the time, it didn’t even seem like they were saying goodbye. Walter was not much of a city dweller in his younger years.
He had lived his whole childhood in little towns, the sort of communities that only had one grocery store, where neighbors waved from their porches and gossip flew quicker than the wind. Helen, his late wife, had been the people-person in the family. The rural peace and quiet that they had created out together in their tiny home, with its walls covered in ivy and a garden that smelt like lavender in the summer, was something that she found really appealing.
With Helen’s passing, everything underwent a transformation. It was a chilly morning in the winter when she passed away, the sickness finally taking possession of the body that he had seen deteriorating over the course of many months. Walter had remained by her side until the very last moment, holding her hand and assuring her, in a voice that was barely holding together, that he would always look after their daughter.
He had been there until the very end. When Walter first met Lydia, she was only six years old. She was little and fragile, with eyes that were too large for her face, but she had a spark that told him she would develop into an outstanding person.
Despite the fact that the death of Helen had left a void in both of their lives, Walter had devoted his whole soul to the role of family provider. It was for school that he learnt how to braid her hair. At each and every school play, he was seated in the first row.
As she struggled to sleep due to nightmares, he remained up all night to bandage her bruised knees and stayed up throughout the night. He would never be able to protect her from all the pain that life has to offer, but he would be damned if she ever had to face it on her own. Lydia developed into all he had hoped she would be over the course of the years: intelligent, caring, and passionately devoted.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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