Wheeling Gull Isle fall back into place

The sea rests, her dark blue waves spreading calmly up the shore. Judah reclines in the vast fields of lavender, watching the day slowly cede to a warm glow. He inhales, pulling the cool air deep into his lungs. Everywhere smells of him. But you’re dead.

JUST GO!

Dad. His ghost is always near, haunting him just out of reach. He can never see his face. He can never touch him. So close, yet always too far. It was an agonizing fate much worse than death.

Even now, above the sway of purple blooms, he is there, drifting through rays of gold light. Grief had long ago burned a hollow in his chest and he feels the emptiness expanding again. An embittered breath ousts from it.

What happened to you? What could I have done? These were impossible questions to ask now, but the ones he desperately needed to know the answers to. He should have been a kinder son, he should have been more patient. He shouldn’t have blown up at him, then maybe dad would be here- his real dad.

JUST GO!

I wish I could have told you that I loved you instead.  Judah presses his eyes shut, twisting his head away and wills his father to peacefully dissolve. Long minutes pass in silence, and he had time to hope that his father had gone. But still his scent remains, binding him to the memory.

“Judah?”

He’d spoken. The boy had heard his voice many times, though never with such clarity. This time was different. It was a girl’s voice.

Judah rights himself, peering out into the sun.  Dad is there before him, he can see so clearly. Resplendent wisps of fur encircle his face, sky-gaze filling with familiar concern. Judah lets his eyes wander, tracing over the intimate features of a face he hadn’t seen in over half a year, so real that he is certain he could reach out and touch something solid.

A hot tear spills from the grey eye and down over his cheek, "Dad… you are gone," he rasps.

Perhaps I am, too.