A Lost Meadow of Heaven

A little girl remembers the day before her daddy died. How she spent her last minutes in heaven. Based on Meadows of Heaven by Nightwish.

I remember the day before you died, daddy. It was a bright summer’s day outside, and you had decided to spend the day with me. We lived in that pretty little yellow house on the other side of town, and it had a big castle in the backyard, just for me.

That day, I remember that you made me pancakes - big, fluffy, blueberry pancakes. You had gotten me a little bottle of maple syrup, handmade in Canada, or as I liked to call it back then, Kanadia. You told me a story during breakfast, daddy. A story that you had told me many times before, the one about my mommy, and how you and her lived in a little corner  of utopia.

You told me the story, and I laughed, laughed with more joy than I had ever laughed with. Not because the story itself was funny, but because I knew that this day was all ours - that you were going to give me the entire world that day.

We did the dishes together, like we always did, and we blew bubbles. Monstrous, shiny, frail bubbles. We knew they would pop, splattering us with dish soap the minute they touched a speck of dust, and we knew we were making a mess that we would have to clean. But we didn’t care. Not at all.

I think mommy was watching over us that day. I knew she was sitting in Heaven, at God’s side, telling Him all about us, and asking Him if he would give us just one last day of heaven.

We changed our clothes and you took me to town, our quaint little hamlet’s heart. We wandered everywhere, trying to find something fun to do, but I think being with you was the most fun. But in the end, we finally decided to make some pottery at Mr. Bertolli’s pottery shop.

I loved it, daddy. Picking out different colors, and then choosing what we would paint. I think I picked an elephant, and I think you picked a heart. I was happy, even though your face only looked like it did.

“How’s she takin’ it?” I think I heard Mr. Bertollli say to you.

I kept painting, but you put your brush down and had a grown-up talk with him. “So far, she’s doing well,” you said, patting my head. “But we’ll see how it goes tomorrow. I think she’s adjusted to what’s been happening.”

I wasn’t concerned with your grown up talk with Mr. Bertolli. I only listened to your soft voice. I rarely heard it in those days, since you were always outside doing business with your friend and always visiting the hospital. I was always with someone else, but I always wanted to be with you.

We went home, and had a picnic in the castle under the trees. Our backyard had nothing but trees, and my castle was our fortress, braving my imagination day after day. We played the Knight and the Prince, I was your brave little knight, and you were the Prince of the World, ruling lands near and far.

Usually I played by myself in the castle, maybe with a tree-friend or two, but for the first time, you showed me how much fun it was to play with you. It may have also been the last time, but daddy, you made me see that you were always going to be the Prince of the World, and I would always be your Knight.

That night, when you tucked me into bed, you told me something.

“Baby,” you said, “Never forget this day.”

I told you that it was the bestest day ever.

But you shook your head. “Baby girl, close your eyes, and see the hidden treasures in the meadow of life.”

I asked you what you meant. Wasn’t everyday a treasure?

You chuckled. “One day, you’re going to ask yourself, why things happened. And baby girl, remember that I love you more than anything in the world. Remember that I’ve always loved you and - and mommy the most and I will always, always love you.”

I wondered if that meant even if the sky came to earth.

You laughed and said especially if the sky came to earth. You kissed me goodnight, and I fell asleep, in mommy’s arms, knowing everything would be forever.

But then the next day, you came to me, dressed in black, a lady by your side. You said she was going to be my new mommy, but she wasn’t my mommy. She was pale-faced and yellow haired, not warm-faced and golden haired. She didn’t like our pretty little yellow house, and her big babies broke my castle.

And then I never saw my meadow of heaven again, because we moved to the noisy, dirty city. I saw you less and less, and the lady more and more, and no one played with me anymore.

I knew mommy was always by my side, but you died that day, daddy. And I miss you more than ever...

Author's Note

I actually wrote this for Sparknotes Musical Fiction contest, and I wrote it late at night, with my eyes threatening to kill me. D:
I sorely need some sleep.
Feel free, kids, to tell me what you liked/didn't like, and what you would suggest.
I would also take a listen at Nightwish's Meadows of Heaven.
The picture is from yuumei on deviantArt, and she has this beautiful flash-comic based on this picture. I would give her some love and check it out.

Nota Bene: NOT BASED ON REALITY.

Nota Bene (x2): Thanks Vik! :D

Reviews

[AFX787359]

VERY well done. I love all the symbolism and the allusions. It's EXTREMELY well written and perfect!

You actually make it hard for me to believe that you didn't base this on reality.

All in all, AWESOME job! :)

Your usual grammar, spelling, and mechanics mistakes are virtually non-existent in this peice. :)

And I'm off to beta this! :D