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.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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