A Lingering Tradegy

The past always has the way of sneaking up on you. No matter how hard you try to keep it off your mind, to leave it all behind, somehow it always find its way back. It follows your every step, gnawing at your heel. It has been a year since my son's death, also around the same time the nightmare started. A nightmare that relive the moment of the accident that claimed the life of my son over and over again every single night.

Everytime I fall into the deep slumber, I can see him, crying in agony. I can see when his life slowly leaving his eyes, until he finally falls limply in my arms. These past few weeks though, the nightmare has gotten worse. It becomes more vivid. I can even still taste the blood in my mouth when I wake up.

After a while though, I've gotten used to it. It becomes one with me. The nightmare usually started with me holding the lifeless body of my son in the middle of the crowded street. His eyes were open but they saw nothing. I could feel dozens sets of eyes fixed on us. Whispering to one another, wondering what just happened. The red car that ran over our motorcycle was drove by a middle-aged woman. She was in a state of shock, crying hysterically while the police tries to calm her down. I closed my eyes trying to hold down the tears, when I opened it again he was gone. I scanned the area around me and it was empty. No crowd, no police, no ambulance, nothing. Just me kneeling on an empty street with the red car and the wrecked motorcycle around me. Then I saw him again, standing tall a few inches away from me. He still battered and bloodied, yet somehow he able to stand on his own to feet. He was smiling.

He calls me and extends his arms as if he wants me to pick him up. I try to run towards him, I want to hold him, I want to save him.

But I can't.

I can't move my feet, I can't reach him. His smile begins to fade, and turns into a scowl. But it's not the adorable scowl my son always had. On my dreams, his face holds lots of anger. His injured bloodshot eyes fixate on me, he's not even blinking. I cry out his name, I keep trying to reach him, but my feet still planted firmly on the ground. I always wake up after that.

But last night, for the first time after all these nightmares, I could hear him spoke to me.

"Pa, I'm lonely,"

That was the first words he said. The pain I felt was like a stab to the heart, it makes me feel guilty. I wasn't be able to protect him.

"Please come with me." He added. His words pleaded yet his voice falls flat. I want to make up to him, I'd do anything for a chance to be with him again. I wanted to say yes but hesitation hits me as I'm about to give my answer.

"Pa, don't you miss me?" I kept my mouth shut.

"Why don't you answer me?" I really do miss the sound of his voice, and I thought listening to it again would make me feel better. But no, there's something off.

His voice changed, it held too much anger. Too demanding. He no longer sounded like my son. But I didn't mind that. I miss him terribly, and I thought I would finally get the chance to hug him once more. I thought I would be able to save him somehow.

And for the first time since the strings of nightmares started, I could walk towards him. But instead of calming down from angrily yelling at me, my son turned more furious. He blamed me for failing to protect him. He told me I'm a horrible father. He told me I never loved him.

He told me that it should be me who died in the accident.

I stopped a few steps before him. I couldn't believe my 4 years old son is capable of thinking that way.

No, no... my son could never look or sound that vicious. He was an angel.

Then I suddenly see it, the kid in front of me wasn't my son. Whatever it is in front of me might look like my son, but deep down, I know it's not.

"I'm sorry," I croaked. But I didn't move closer to the kid. Instead, I fell on my knees and cried. I kept chanting I'm sorry.

But I knew, I knew my son is gone. I knew there's nothing I could do about it. I knew that all this time, my constant denial had created those nightmares. I'm the one who keeps reliving the accident on my mind, wishing that I could've done something to keep my son with me.

Then I realized, the best way to keep my son with me, is to cherish the good memories we shared. Not the horrible moment that I have no control to change or prevent.

I lifted my head up, and instead of seeing the horrifying resemblance of my son, I saw the day when I held him for the first time on the day he was born. Then I saw the moment me and my wife taught him to walk. I saw the moment when I watched him sleep soundly in my wife's cradle.

I saw our beautiful memories.

Then I saw him, on the morning before the accident happened. He had a big smile on his face. I saw him running towards me and climbed onto my lap.

"I'm tired, Pa. I'm going to rest. I love you." He said, before he closed his eyes, with a smile still planted on his face.

Author's Note

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