The Gravel Path
©copyright 2009 Frans Bezuidenhout
Gravel crunched as he walked the familiar path feeling a sharp winter’s chill upon the nape of his neck. A slight wind tugging at his shirt eased him away from old painful thoughts harboured over the years. Side-stepping a puddle, he turned left and continued a slow pace as he followed leaves scurrying before him. He glanced up when a dove rushed from a tree it circled then anxiously settled on a branch nearby, trying to keep balance but took off as he passed beneath.
The stone was now in full view. Many years had passed since walking down this same path. He recalled his feet hurting as his aunt pulled him along, her endless sniffling irritating. He remembered crying out in pain when he tried to avoid a puddle, lost his balance and hit his head against a white painted stone. A thin red line ran down his cheek where warmth and cold mixed.
He had come this far, determined to walk the path toward that stone. The crunch of gravel softened, as if aware of his thoughts and feelings. His life had not been easy, but he had much to show. In a short time he had accumulated wealth, drove expensive cars and his employees treated him with respect. Or, was it with fear, he mused as he stopped in front of it, noticing a well-tended appearance, even fresh flowers were in the urn.
He bent down to read the card. “From your daughter-in-law and grand-children. We wish you could see his achievements.”
He heard a sound unlike any other bursting from within. Covering his face, he felt tears drip through his fingers. Just a few hours ago he was in control, but kept listening to the lecture. But, now, he could not escape his emotions as memories penetrated his consciousness, long ago scenes jumping from one episode to another, causing more pain, more hurt. He saw the eyes of his wife, sad and longing, yet her voice seemed empty; then realized he could not recall when he last held his daughters in his arms.
Walls of the lecture hall seemed to close in on him as critical words filled his mind: forgive, peace — just do it! He stood up and stuttered, “I . . . I forgive you dad and mom.”
A light feeling rushed through his veins, almost out of control as years of anger and bitterness dropped away like autumn leaves onto their grave where his tears mixed with soil. Elation, freedom! His heart filled with peace as he knelt to brush away dust over his own last name etched in the grey marble headstone.
“Although I do not understand why you did not want me, the family, after you both passed away left me on the streets taking all that was mine, I forgive you.”
He pushed upright and turned to leave as a startled dove took flight. It was past time to hold his daughters — hold his wife and put the sparkle back into her eyes.
~~ The End
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Adding your comment:
As you might guess, I see some of the same issues previously covered and a bit of wordiness. Let me know. 
