Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Inner Strength (04/20/06)
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TITLE: The Promise | Previous Challenge Entry
By Juanima Hiatt
04/27/06 -
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“I’m okay, Jess,” a wispy laugh came with his gravelly voice, trying to carry comfort to my ears.
He leaned against the counter, brought his eyes up to mine, and smiled. Oh, that smile. There could be a hundred things visibly out of sorts on this man, but when he smiled, any inkling of darkness was swept away.
I was ten. He was 62. It had been 31 days since Grandma died, and a year since my parents walked out the door and never came back. They said they were coming back. They lied. It was dark, and the corner came too fast on that curvy highway. In a split second that beautiful, shiny SUV was a shattered future. A broken dream. A lost world. My world.
Grandma and Pop took me in. They tried to be strong, hiding their pain to help me through mine. They thought they were helping, but instead I came to believe I was some pathetic weakling because I couldn’t be strong like them. The pain was alive and well. On my face. In my gut. It spread through my limbs.
They said God would carry us through. Was it God making them strong like that? Did strong mean not showing the hurt? I believe it was the absence of tears that made Grandma sick. You can’t avoid it. If you don’t feel the pain, pretty soon you don’t feel at all. The sickness took Grandma away, and more hurt took her place. I walked around the house and complained that the lights didn’t work very well. Sorrow makes the air gray, and it takes time to get it out. But the day did come.
Pop and I were in that kitchen when the sun came pouring through the windows. His arms opened wide and that smile spread ear to ear. Oh, how my body ached for the change; but still, the fear of Pop leaving me was greater. I was too little to be alone. But that smile.... Doubt threatened to crush my hopes, but I kicked it away and reached for that smile. Reached for the promise of his existence.
He struggled into the living room and chuckled as his weary body fell into the sofa. He allowed himself a profound sigh and then looked at me. Our eyes locked and for awhile, neither one of us could look away. Then his smile faded, and I saw an expression I hadn’t seen before. Was that pain? He patted the cushion next to him, and I responded by sitting myself down and moving in as close as I could get.
A noise outside drew our attention, and we watched as two birds landed side by side on the edge of the birdbath. They slapped their wings on the water, dipped their beaks in, and repeated this ritual many times. Then they took off, dancing in the air, diving and swooping on some invisible roller coaster. It was like watching a bird and its shadow. We gazed in silence until they were gone.
I inhaled as deeply as my lungs could stand and closed my eyes. I exhaled, and looked over at the empty place where Pop had been. The ray of sunlight coming in was warm and I took it in, absorbing with it the presence of an incredible love that cradles the soul and whispers solace to a broken heart.
I know what Grandma meant when she said God would carry us through. We all suffered deeply during that time, but God was there. He was in that smile that spread across Pop’s face. The seemingly magical act that instilled a peace beyond my understanding. He put that smile in my heart before he left. I’m 19 now, and I’m making it. The pain is still there, and sometimes an unforgiving despair comes and threatens my ability to hang on. But then a face comes to mind... and a smile... and I reach for that promise of His existence.
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