A Gift From Above

“Daddy?” A snivelling voice chimed from behind the bedroom door. With a bit of scuffling the door clicked open, light spilling in from the hallway to illuminate a fragile, and shaky little frame. Delila patted her tears with her onesie sleeve she had bundled up over her nimble fingers; her doe-eyes heavy with sleep, welling up with tears. Her button nose seeping, and her puffy rose cheeks stained salty from her dolorous and repetitive weeping. Close to her chest she clutched her PoPo: a tatted hippo plushie with frayed ears from relentless sucking.

Harry had been lounging on the pristinely made bed staring at the empty space next to him for hours now. Emily’s pyjamas folded neatly on her pillow, her wedding ring glistening from the new flood of dim light. The scent of her apple perfume clung to the fabric. Harry had not even noticed the fading of the sun, and the rising of the moon. He was numb to the drop in heat. He was unaware of the pain in his shoulder from the position he had been laying in. He was unphased by the itching from his black suit, and the restrictive matching trousers; the shirt still tucked neatly into them. His tie was tight around his throat, but he didn’t move to free it from under his arm.

He peered across the room, noticing the distress of his little girl. Her curls tumbled across her forehead, and stuck like they'd been glued with a mixture of the tears and sweat from a tormenting dream. Hauling himself up onto his forearms, careful not to disturb the other side of the empty double bed, he spoke delicately. “What’s wrong, my love?”

Delila’s lips trembled as she shuffled up to the bed. Through the blubbering, the girl sorrowfully explained as best she could between breaths. “Nana said... Mummy will come and... visit me in my dreams, and she didn’t come…” She spluttered, anxious. “Mummy didn’t say bye bye.”

Weakly, Harry rose from the bed and walked over to his grieving little girl. He scooped her into his arms, and sat her down on his hip, snaking his arms around her comfortingly. “Shush baby,” his hand sheltered her head, fingers interlacing her frizzy, untamed bed hair. “Shush my sweet girl,”

His eyes wandered over to the wooden set of drawers next to where his wife slept. During the time she had left, Emily made sure that Harry knew there was a single package inside her bedside cabinet for both Delila and himself to indulge in whenever the grief was too much to bear. Harry was unsure if he was ready to see what was left of her, but his daughter was convulsing in tears and this was no time to be selfish. Emily made him promise he would put their beautiful daughter, Emily’s ‘mini me’, first before anything and everything else. He was faithful to her in every waking moment of her life, and now her legacy lives on through Delila, a product of their undying love for each other, he could not and would not hurt her now.

With the utmost care, he gently opened the drawer and attained the brown package. It was a simple box, tied with a string, and labeled “In case of emergencies”. Harry figured his first week as a single father he had done well, but the funeral had knocked his confidence and he was helpless. She always made it look so… natural. He cautiously, yet diligently made his way down the stairs, occasionally shushing Delila until she’d become still and had spied the box under her father’s arm. Her head cocked to the side as he placed her down on the sofa, curious. Delila was confused over what he was holding; Was it her birthday? Was it her daddy’s birthday? It didn’t look very exciting, usually all of her gifts were smothered in princesses and glittery paper.

Harry turned on the tv with the buttons on the side: he had lost the remote a few days ago and was hopeless at finding things himself. He had realised over the past week that man looking was most definitely a real issue that needed to be addressed. He opened the box, gingerly setting aside the paper wrapping and the string, to find an array of discs numbered one to ten. With a raised eyebrow he figured Emily wouldn’t have overcomplicated anything, so he inserted disc one into the dvd player.

It was static for a slim moment, and then there she was. His sweet Emily. A video of her, but not in her unrecognisable, ill state. Her cheeks were full and rounded, with freckles sprinkled over the rosey flesh. Her astounding curls tumbling around her kind, oval face. It was so thick, so full… golden and glowing as she sat there in the plain sunlight of the garden. It flew behind her shoulders in the sweet summer breeze, and she sighed peacefully. Her deep, doe-eyes glistening blue

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against the rays, and that wonderful smile… Plump glossy lips that he missed so much. He craved to see that grin in front of him, to count the freckles littered over her and to run his thumb over her precious face. To hold her one more time would be a gift he would long for until the day his soul died. Her gentle voice sweetly caressed his heart, as he dropped to his knees in front of the screen. They were both silent listening to her symphony of a voice. Enveloped in a moment of love, no room for grief and mourning. She addressed them for what felt like hours in a few short minutes.

“If you need me, I’ll always be with you… I’m all around, watching over you, even when you can’t see me…”

Delila, now next to Harry on the floor, placed her hand against the screen encapsulated, and began to mirror her mother’s sweet smile. “Sleep tight Mummy…”