First Sentence Friday – Chapter 7
It was during the transitional time after his death, that period of adjustment, his now empty recliner loomed each evening as she entered the living room to watch TV. The queen size bed with the indentation on only one pillow was more than noticeable as she made the bed each morning. Then there was eating alone. Eating by herself, she said, was the worst. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the empty chair at the head of the table, so she began eating at a little table set in a different part of the kitchen.
For me, it was knowing every time I called the house, he wouldn’t answer and say, “It’s Dino!” (nickname) He wouldn’t be able to share that little joke about how I was his favorite daughter, (he pronounced it in that old Raleigh way, “dorter”)me, being the only daughter, of course.
Death creates a deep mark in our souls. An everlasting stain. It alters our view of the world, even when not one thing has physically changed except we are now required to live without the presence of a loved one. Death impacts each of us differently, uniquely. Each of us processes a loss to the best of our ability. There is never a right, or wrong way.
In THE FORGIVING KIND, Sonny is realizing the impact her Daddy’s death has made on her, and her family members. She has accepted the reality, yet realizes nothing will ever be the same again.
Mama sat on the back porch waiting for us, and even in the twilight it was obvious how much she’d changed since Daddy died; we all had, really, in our own little ways.