The October Amaryllis

Chapter 12 - January 1st, 2015 - 11:06 A.M.

"Listen, son, I wanted to show you something," my dad said, walking into my room with some sort of book.

What could that be? I've never seen it before.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

"It's an album of our family starting from your great-grandmother, the one you asked about," he said, opening it up to the first page. On the page, I could see a photograph of her from 1931 and her signature below it, which read Delilah Winston Andrews. She had the prettiest signature I had ever seen; this is what it looked like Delilah Winston Andrews. Real posh, am I right?

"Woah, wasn't she like fifteen back then? That's how old I am," I said before realizing how stupid of a mistake I had made.

"I know you can't wait to be older, but you're not quite there yet," he said, laughing at my gaffe.

I looked closer at her picture and faintly made out the words Cleveland High School.

Hey, wait a minute, I'm going there! Well... online for now, but still.

"Cleveland High School," I mumbled out.

"That's the one; they built it during her lifetime. I believe they built it in 1927 or so. Of course, now Beacon Hill is primarily Asian, but it wasn't always that way," he said, flipping over to the next page, which had what appeared to be her infant daughter in it.

"Who is that?" I asked curiously.

"That's Grandma Rosie, silly!" he said, knocking on my head.

"Oh, right... What was she like when she was young?"

"I'm glad you asked because she was a shutterbug, just like her mother was. Unfortunately, during her teens in the 50s, color photography was quite expensive, so she had very few photographs that were colored then. The first colored photograph she took was sometime in 1957. While I don't remember exactly when it happened, I remember what it was a picture of. She took a photograph of Daytona Beach, and in it was her boyfriend, Ricky. Now I want you to guess who Ricky is," he said, chuckling.

"Grandpa?!" I asked, shocked.

"Ding ding ding! You know, your grandfather was something of a troublemaker; he did street racing when he was in college," he said, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Grandpa? No way! You're pulling my leg here," I exclaimed with my mouth open in shock. This was all new information to me.

"Oh yes, way, they nearly suspended his license for it before he finally cut it out. The Department of Labor was kind to him because of his age," he said, laughing while looking at the young photograph of my grandfather.

"Are you in any of these photos? Also, how did you just find this album? I don't think I've ever seen it," I asked, curious as to how it magically showed up in this timeline.

"To answer your first question, yes, and so are you. Now that is a good question! See, I forgot about it for years on end as I didn't think about my grandmother for a very long time until you mentioned her. If it hadn't been for you, I might have never remembered it!" he exclaimed, patting me on the back.

I still can't believe this is my first time seeing it...

"How do you forget?" I asked, laughing.

"Son, when you get to be my age, you'll have so much on your mind that you'll start to forget your own family. The only thing on my mind now is H&R Block. Trust me, after a certain point, it all goes downhill, and then you die," he said, flipping over to a page of him as a baby. This one was in a strange sanguine color.

"What's wrong with the photo? It looks like it's bleeding," I asked, repulsed.

"Back then, colored photographs faded after about a decade; I believe a Kodak took this one. You'll get extra points if you can guess when I was born," he replied, winking cheekily.

"What kind of task is that?" I asked, laughing.

"When is my birthday, then? The last time I asked you what it was, you were off by four months," he asked with a smirk.

"Wednesday, March 27th, 1976 at approximately 7:06 A.M. You were born two weeks late, and they kept you in the hospital for a little while to check up on your health before letting you go. Your blanket was dark green, and it was raining on the day you were born. I suppose now I'll get extra extra points?" I asked smugly.

Instead of hearing a reply, all I could see was my dad staring at me with his mouth open for around five seconds before hugging me tightly. His warmth comforted me, and at that moment, every single problem I had ever experienced left my body. I didn't even think about Madelynn, who I thought about 24/7. I know it was entirely my fault that our relationship failed, but I still have feelings for her. I dreamed that I married her once, only to wake up all alone. Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so careless with my words; I speak before thinking. I've told multiple people they meant nothing to me and that if they died, I wouldn't blink an eye. Told you I'm a horrible person... How can I save the world when I can't even save myself?

"Believe me, I've seen many impressive things in my lifetime, but nothing blew me away quite as hard as that did," he asked, almost crying.

"Yeah, well, you mean a lot to me. Dad, can I ask you something?" I asked, trying to form my following sentences as carefully as possible.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning his head to the side like a dog out of curiosity.

"Do you ever get these horrible nightmares where you lose people you love? When I get them, they feel very realistic, and I constantly lose you in them. It's like I keep having these nightmares that I can't wake up from, and a part of me worries that they'll happen. I know that probably makes little sense, but I'm afraid that one day I'll lose you, and if I do, I won't know what to do," I said, trying not to shake from anxiety. Would he know that something was off about me? The entire day I acted quite strange.

"Of course, everyone I've ever met gets nightmares like that; they're just a normal part of life. You'll lose me one day, and I know that it will be tough to cope with, but that doesn't mean that the pain will always be there. Let me tell you a story; when I was around your age, my father bought me a Beagle from the pound whom we named Oscar. I adored him and played many games of fetch; he was everything to me. Later we found out that he had epilepsy and spent a long time trying to help him before we realized he wouldn't survive much longer. We had to put him down, and I was destroyed; I was both angry and upset at the same time; all I ever wanted was to have him back. I called my dad a bloody moron at least five times. It took me a while to get over him, but I eventually did, so death, no matter how horrible it may make us feel, eventually goes away. I know that dogs and humans are very different, but the concept of death is universal; it's an awful thing, but it doesn't haunt you forever. When I'm gone, I want you to remember all the good parts of me, okay?" he asked, hugging me so tightly I nearly squealed.

I couldn't imagine doing anything else.