Angelic Annihilation

chapter 22

Jezebel's pov

Holidays have never been important to me as they are to most others. I couldn't comprehend the importance of why a fat man breaking into your house to leave you gifts was something to celebrate. My father was the one who adored each holiday, no matter how insignificant.

Christmas? We wore matching pajamas and watched movies all together, the three of us painting a picture of the standard family.

Even on stupid holidays, he would always find a way to make the day about it.

National waffle day? We had waffles for every meal.

Heritage day? Thomas would teach me the history of our people, the triumphs and horrors that our ancestors went through. I would curl up on the couch while he ranted about how important it was for me to embrace my culture, how being a Native woman should be empowering and freeing. I adored it all, no matter how much I joked about him being annoying or too much with his love of holidays, I ever left him to celebrate alone.

When he passed, my mother stomped each and every holiday out of my brain. We never celebrated birthdays either, like my arrival on this Earth wasn't important enough to bring attention to it.

I began hating holidays, the knowledge that the one person who did like them would never experience them with me again paralyzed me. It left me on the floor as though I was nothing, and I had to pick myself up with no help, no crutches.

The one day I did pay attention to was my father's death date. That was the singlehanded most important thing in the world to me, and always would be. Each year I would donate money to the same charity he would to support saving Indigenous lands. His culture was mine, and I cling to it. It was something we didn't share with Evangeline, a topic she would never be able to relate to. She knew that and tried her best to beat it out of me, but I still held on tightly to the same beliefs that my father had.

Today was the day my dad died.

I spent this day alone and isolated.

My motorcycle was a gift from my father, and I let a small smile break my cold exterior when I lifted the garage door up to see her. The sun hit the metallic black of the bike and she shined beautifully in the evening light.

I sighed and trailed my fingers along the body of it, relishing in how well condition i've kept her in.

"Four years today he's been gone." I whisper out loud to no one in particular.

Hridik was the name of my bike, heart of a loved one. I remember my father's big smile when he told me, he had known how much this present meant for me.

"This bike is a symbol of my heart, always with you, even when I am not BelBel."

I hurt, I hurt so much on days like these. People always tell me that the grief fades over time, but how can I heal from the death of the man who loved me most in the world?

He wasn't given a funeral, my mother said that funerals were a time for people to be weak. I was reprimanded for the feathers and paint I dressed myself in, my desperate attempt to give my deceased father a proper burial. I never got to see his body, it was "dealt with", was what I was told.

Emily knew that this day was difficult to me, she only knew it was about Thomas, nothing more.

My phone was blowing up with messages from my friends and Gabriele, all asking where I was.

I shut my phone off and placed my helmet on my head, pulling the straps tight. I kickstarted the bike, the hum of the engine telling me that my dad was watching over me. I reveled in that piece of comfort, and guided the bike out onto the street.