You are the Reason

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It was raining that night. For some reason I thought it would never stop. Like the world would simple stop moving forward. My Dad was gone. Not in the "I'm just not coming home" sense, but in the "never can, never will" sense of the phrase. At first I thought maybe it was some big elaborate prank. Like he would come strolling in one day smiling, throw me over his shoulder and say "Got ya!" That day didn't come before the funeral though; the day I lost hope.

I hated the fact that it was sunny out. It seemed like the bright sky was mocking my pain. Part of me wanted to throw sticks in the sky and scream, the other part was afraid that if I started I would never stop. So I stood next to my Mom in my new black suit and tie, staring at the sad faces of people I barely knew as they told us how sorry they were, and how amazingly brave my dad was.

They called him a hero. An example for everyone to live by. They said they wished they had been there, but I knew they really didn't wish for that. They hoped they would have done the same thing in his place, but most of them wouldn't. There had been a robbery at the store when he stopped on his way home. The idiot kid was waving a gun around that he barely knew which end to shoot from. My dad saw the cashier take out a bat to hit the robber with and he dove to pull a kid and his mother out of the way. 

The gun went off. The bullet hit my dad instead of the 10-year-old boy he was standing in front of at the time. It would have blown the kids head off, instead it lodged in my dad's chest. The robber was knocked out and arrested. Pretty shut case with the camera footage, he would go away for a long time. Didn't make me feel better though. I blamed more than just him. I blamed the cashier, the woman, the boy and even my mom for asking him to stop on the way home.

The kid showed up to the funeral with his mother. She kept saying she was sorry, and thank you for rescuing her boy. I didn't want to hear it. I just stared at the little blond kid with green eyes and freckles across his nose wondering what he was thinking as he stared off into space. At the grave site they did a few little speeches, then the little boy came forward with a case. He opened it carefully and pulled out a wooden violin. After a minute of adjusting, he put the bow to the strings. Only seconds went by and the entire space felt transported.

(play video up top for the song that inspired this)

It sang, the violin sang. I had never seen something like it before. The way his eyes closed and his body swayed to the music. His fingers gracefully pulling each note from the instrument and thrusting them through my chest until my heart was bleeding. I don't even remember when I started crying. Nor when I walked forward to just stand there, staring in front of him as he played for us. The song was gentle, hopeful, and wonderfully sad all at the same time.

As the final notes played and silence settled over the group. He stood there, bow still hovering, hand slightly shaking and breath coming in short puffs. Suddenly the sun wasn't so cruel. It was like I had been waiting for a reason and it was standing right in front of me. I reached out and clasped the child to my chest. He gasped and his eyes flew open as I crushed him to me. I ran my hands in his soft hair and whispered in his ear.

"You're welcome. Just never stop playing."

*

"Are you coming on Saturday?" The soft voice asked me over the phone. I gulped down the last of my tea before answering.

"Of course. You know I wouldn't miss it. Did you get your new tie?" I heard a soft giggle from the other end of the line and smiled gently.

"Yes. You didn't have to get that. I like it though. You know I will wear it." I heard the door open and murmurs on the other end and sighed.

"Good. Now get back to practicing or your coach will shoot me. My break is almost over anyways." I said and we said goodbye before hanging up. I sighed as I threw the last bite of sandwich into my mouth and grabbed my dishes to set next to the sink.

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