A longing story

This is going to be a longer story. or better: A Longing Story

". You are sitting on a bench in the park, it is getting dark already but still the sun gives her last few warm beams to the earth. You can feel it as you can feel the soft breeze and hear the birds' gentle songs. You are totally relaxed; every muscle of your body is loosening as you concentrate on your own regular and calm breath. At the moment you are feeling nothing but security and well-being. You are getting tired and it is not a bad feeling, you welcome it, you sense how you are loosing yourself in this caressing moment and you let it happen. You are not afraid of letting go of your consciousness. You ease up as you hear my words; you ease up and fall back in time."

She was sitting on the rough, cold floor in her apartment. The only light came from a single candle since she could not pay the bills anymore. She also could not afford to buy food or something to drink and being particular, this actually was not her apartment any more. The clothes she wore were old and rigid by dirt. The only thing that was not messy and broken was her little notebook, which she used as a diary and sometimes, just noted her soul in it. She opened it; the first page contained a letter, one of several pieces of paper. "To Elizabeth Asbury, my daughter, the beautiful young lady, she has become!", it read. She swallowed at the thought of her father. Or the person she had called "father". Ellie blackened her name from the letter and wrote: Ellie Buried. She gave her new name a sarcastic smile. That was brilliant, not only because her mother hated it, when her friends called her Ellie, but even more because it looked and sounded like "A lie buried"- which was in her case actually true. Her smile faded slowly as she wrote by the bare candlelight:

Sitting in the dark
Waiting (for what?)
Wasting my life
Feeling lonely
Without really being it (that's me)

Remaining in the Silence
Waiting (what for?)
Wasting my strength
To grief
Without really having to (that's me)

Fading in Fear
Waiting (for what?)
Suffocating my tears
By repressing
Without really knowing it (that's me)


Good lord, she really was lonely, was she not? She closed her notebook with a snap. Ellie needed to get out of there, needed to feel that she was alive.
A few minutes later she was on the road- again. At this particular moment she appreciated the full moon, spreading his cold, coaxing light around her, showing her the way. Lost in her thoughts, she was not aware of where she was going and the nightmarish feeling of killing loneliness rested upon her shoulders. After a while she dug out the letters and pictures her father left her- again. Ellie read as she was walking or better walked as she was reading and still she tried to fight back her tears, which were constantly running down her cheeks like little smithereens of glass slicing her skin. She still did not realize what she read, this was so unreal, she could not comprehend, what all these words, written in the most beautiful handwriting she had ever known, meant.
As Ellie looked up, she realized where she was. Sometimes she thought that something or someone (?) had dragged her here. With a sigh she followed slowly the narrow path through the graveyard to where her father lay and sat down. The pale moonlight illuminated the dark letters graven into the marmoreal stone and Ellie realized that it must be really seldom, that someone was able to loom the beauty of a loved-one's grave beyond the lachrymal curtain of mourning. This was so absurd. Her father hardly ever treated her okay, but still: here she was, sad and incredibly angry. Sore and grieving. She remembered the burial well, this unbearable variety of feelings, like the unlimited possibilities of colours a prism was able to create. Only that Ellie's feelings were just a thousand different shades of grey. And after everything her father had done, after all she had been through, she so wanted him to be with her in this particular moment, that it tore her heart apart.
She pulled her notebook out of her pocket and wrote:

If you see me crying
And walking down the street,
Then please stop trying
To tell me what I need
Cause I'll never be flying
Be the one who angels meet
And I'd rather stop trying
To get back up on my feet

Ellie's words, although only a whisper, cut the bone-crushing silence:
"I am tired of detesting you for making my life a constant world war three, you know, and the way you treated me. Whenever I am in rage about your cowardice, your inability to face your life, my memory of your drunken breath, I see you lying on your deathbed, telling me over and over again that you love me and that you are sorry. What now? Too late to be sorry?
I am tired of the ambiguity you left in me.
You could be so awesome and the next day so brutally disgustful.
You knew so much but often you weren't even able to speak.
Sometimes you made it so easy for me to love you, like a daughter should love her father, but at the same time I needed to hate you or otherwise I would have lost my mind.
You taught me a lot, but coinstantaneous you took so much from me.
You know, I tried to meditate today, as you taught me to and I actually heard your gentle voice inside my head, but then reality snapped me violently up, and it felt as if I would lose you again.
I am tired of all the unanswered questions you left behind and I am actually tired of fighting, so I'll just give up. Although you were hardly ever a father to me, at least you loved me. I appreciate that after all, but you have to understand, that I cannot do this anymore, since the worst thing is, that I am more and more tired of living. So I am sorry, but this has to come to an end in order not to hurt myself again."
Ellie stood up and laid her notebook on her father's grave, knowing that he would take care of it. Next to it she placed a bottle of his favourite whisky to mock him, whispered: 'Cheers dad', and slowly walked away. With every step that carried her farther away from her father she felt more and more delighted. This was a good decision, Ellie was sure. People felt that much safer in the world, when they had an aim they could try to reach.
When Ellie reached the bridge, where she had always gone for a walk with her father in the good, dry times, she finally felt something similar to happiness, because she had reached her aim for today-almost.
She stared down the bridge into the river and memories, that made her feel at home, passed her mind, like the river's water flowed, following the rough tide.
She saw her father's face in her inner eye as she jumped and finally, finally felt the peace of mind, which she was so longing for, since the last desperate weeks. In this moment the world dissolved and every burden she had to bear was lightening and finally disappearing. The second before her body would dash against the icy water she felt love and was ready to see her father again, not knowing, that an ambulance was already on the way.