Interlude
THE BLOOD SOAKED RAIN
Interlude
It’s always hard to lose someone you love. It knows no bounds. Trying to stay strong while mournful gravediggers lower the body into the ground. The whispers and the stares from those around you. Feeling sorry for you, but never truly understanding the circumstances. Why does it seem to rain in scenes such as this? Cliche moments of death and despair. Of course it is raining, would I expect anything less? It has been raining for days, six days to be exact. My head hangs low and the water trickles from my nose. Drenched in the bitter chill of winter. Is God trying to tell me something about this life? That when any change happens in someone's life, it also changes the way the world works. Maybe it’s not God at all, but the angel Gabriel being himself. Never showing regret towards anyone. Trying to push people into the reality of sadness. On the verge of breaking down at the thought of losing it all. When in truth, you have not, you know, lost EVERYTHING!
When I lost my mother and father several years ago, I did feel that loneliness. That pain of losing everything. It took several months to become free of these feelings and be normal again. If you call this life normal by any sense of the word. My father was the strongest man I had ever met. Being a blacksmith these days is a noble profession, in my eyes. That is why I was at his shop everyday, trying to learn everything I could about the trade. The heat from the fire is unimaginable, like the pit of hell has opened and unleashed the devils forsaken fury upon your flesh. Bending and twisting, hitting with controlled power. The great rewards the job brings is unspeakable. Working hard and knowing in your own mind that you are doing something magnificent. Supplying every nail that built the entire village is something I am very proud of. Father would have been proud to see his legacy carried on. He was a great man to look up to. Never showing his emotional side to anyone and never showing he was tired or in pain. Especially towards the end of his life, he looked and behaved differently. Sluggish almost, due to the exhausting work and getting older. He traveled more at that time. Said he had to help other workers in his trade with things they were backed up on.
Mother was a completely different topic. She was emotional and was complaining about how she was tired or sick constantly. Making my father go out at all hours of the night to fetch her some fresh spring water, because she was parched. It always bothered me how she would take advantage of this tired, overworked man. But, love does curious things to people. No matter how cold or dreary the weather or how tired father was, he would always do as she asked. That’s probably why she always asked so much of him, and did so little for herself. I always enjoyed going with him, on the rare occasion, he would tell me stories of his youth, or what he had accomplished for the day. But most of the time my mother would not let me wonder about the night's darkness with him. She said the night was scary and no place for a young boy.
Lying there on her bed with her hand on her forehead for hours. While father set out to wander the dark forest, mother and I would sit and discuss nothing. Just silence until finally falling asleep to the light of the fire.
I do really miss my father.
Thank the heavens, my wife was just the opposite. Because I saw this growing up, it probably sub-consciously kept me away from needy women.
I never visited women as a younger man. I always knew that I would find the right one, merely because I was not looking for her. And the day came where I did. I could not keep my eyes off of her when we finally ran into each other in the market. The glances she gave me were flirty and to the point. We had a mutual agreement from the beginning. We would always love each other and grow old together. She was such a strong woman, standing out in a crowd with her beauty and confidence. If she wanted fresh spring water, she would be out the door and I would be running to catch up. “Oh honey, did you need anything?” She would ask. I am a principal type man, and it was the gesture that meant so much to me. She never expected me to wait on her hand and foot, even though I would have.
She awoke every morning after I went to work and would make the bed. It was a little thing, but she knew I liked a straight bed when I came home and crawled into it. Oh! And the meals. I would put her food up against any in the world. I loved my wife very much and no devil could ever stray me away from the situation I had at home. We did things together, and for each other. Instead of going to the tavern every night for a drink with those hard handed, complaining, exhausted men from the village. My wife and I would take walks in the dark or sit by the fire in the house. I was never disappointed and never looked for anything different in my life. Those times with her were treasured and desired.
And when Josiah was born, my world turned upside down. True love is never known until you have a child. Loving my wife so much, but having a child is like no other love. I would have killed anyone, man or woman, who laid a finger on him.
Once, when we were throwing ball, he slipped and hit a gentleman. If that is what you want to call him. Blood came running down the man’s chin and I automatically went on the defense. The man, after yelling a few choice words, started to walk towards Josiah. When I stepped in between the situation, and he saw my size and anger, he cowered. “Keep this ball out of my territory,” he said with a growl. I told him that we were very sorry and we would try and not interrupt his day anymore. But if he stepped towards my child in that fashion again, he would regret it. “Have a good day,” I said, putting on a show for the boy. From then on the man would avoid Josiah, walking on the other side of the path and never speaking nor looking his way. Josiah, being an innocent and caring boy, would always wave and say hi. Which he did to everyone.
It was very fulfilling to watch Josiah grow up to the age he was. He knew no stranger and would speak to anyone he encountered. Smiling and fun filled, he could make the grumpiest of people smile and talk back. God created something very special when he created the innocence of a child. The only thing they want from you is to be beside them. Nothing more, nothing less. Around your feet all day long, inquiring about every little thing you do. Sometimes, I would have to tell Josiah to calm down a little because he was so inquisitive. I would never trade those days for anything. I just wish I could relive them and realize the importance of time and patience with him. I would play with him more and never say I was too tired or make excuses. I would take him more places with me, instead of telling him he needed to stay with his mother. He would have been an exquisite and handsome young man. I did not know I could miss two people as much as I do now. The longing, and the regrets. People say never regret anything, but I regret a lot. Like not being home the night that my wife and child were attacked. The devil himself slithered his way into my life, AND THIS IS WHERE MY STORY BEGINS.
