Post by Philip Garwin on Apr 8, 2018 16:17:52 GMT -5
"This wouldn't be happening if you were still here," Jon tells his husband reproachfully, eyes closing as he settles a little more comfortably on the hard ground. The coldness of the wintry air around him seeps into his bones, makes his breath rasp slightly in his lungs. Jon pays no attention; it's too familiar a sensation now to be truly unwelcome. He spends a fair amount of time out here, even more so lately, speaking to Rafe as if the man he loves could possibly respond. Time hasn't dulled the sharp edges of heartbreak and sorrow that dominate his heart. He has dim memories of people's hushed murmurs after Rafe died, empty reassurances that the pain would pass. It's been years and Jon has never yet experienced the morning he wakes up unsurprised by the empty space next to him.
"It's true, you know," he continues after a moment where tears threaten but ultimately recede. He’s used to such moments; death has lingered near him for so long that Jon has stopped wondering when it’ll finally claim him for its own. He used to think that he was waiting to see Raidon grown and happy, but his grandson isn’t a child anymore, no longer in need of his grandfather's frail comfort. Still death eludes him, leaving him intact despite the bout of pneumonia two months ago which Jon had thought would surely strip the last shreds of life from his loose grasp. "You were always better at talking sense into her than me. She listened to you, she respected you.”
It should have been me.
He doesn't say the words but they hang in the air regardless, as real as the frosty puff of air that escapes his lips. Jon isn’t entirely sure which life he means - Rafe or Drake or both - but he knows that it would be true regardless. Avis is his little girl, his sweet songbird, but Jon has never been the best father. There are so many decisions he should have made differently, so many other paths he could have chosen to take. The choices he did make have left him here, old and alone and waiting to die, with one child dead and the other two incapable of holding a civil conversation.
There’s no reason Jon can think of for his continued existence, lingering in this realm like a ghost who can’t bring itself to accept the inevitable, but he is here still and the sun has finished rising. Wyron and Raidon will expect his presence at breakfast, perhaps Cayden too if the boy has returned to the castle. Jon wonders if his wayward great-niece will make an appearance for her upcoming birthday; Rin struggles greatly with the social expectations placed upon her, as she always has, and Jon has long since accepted that he will never see her happily settled. Happiness has proven fleeting for the majority of his brother's children and grandchildren, with Landon surprisingly being the grandchild most successful in love. Jon hadn’t expected that little development but his surprise hasn’t lessened the sincerity of his happiness for the pair.
That, however, is enough self-indulgence for one morning. He is old, no longer required by the youths around him as he once was, but there are still duties he has to attend to, even if they are as small and simple as making an appearance at the breakfast table.
"It's true, you know," he continues after a moment where tears threaten but ultimately recede. He’s used to such moments; death has lingered near him for so long that Jon has stopped wondering when it’ll finally claim him for its own. He used to think that he was waiting to see Raidon grown and happy, but his grandson isn’t a child anymore, no longer in need of his grandfather's frail comfort. Still death eludes him, leaving him intact despite the bout of pneumonia two months ago which Jon had thought would surely strip the last shreds of life from his loose grasp. "You were always better at talking sense into her than me. She listened to you, she respected you.”
It should have been me.
He doesn't say the words but they hang in the air regardless, as real as the frosty puff of air that escapes his lips. Jon isn’t entirely sure which life he means - Rafe or Drake or both - but he knows that it would be true regardless. Avis is his little girl, his sweet songbird, but Jon has never been the best father. There are so many decisions he should have made differently, so many other paths he could have chosen to take. The choices he did make have left him here, old and alone and waiting to die, with one child dead and the other two incapable of holding a civil conversation.
There’s no reason Jon can think of for his continued existence, lingering in this realm like a ghost who can’t bring itself to accept the inevitable, but he is here still and the sun has finished rising. Wyron and Raidon will expect his presence at breakfast, perhaps Cayden too if the boy has returned to the castle. Jon wonders if his wayward great-niece will make an appearance for her upcoming birthday; Rin struggles greatly with the social expectations placed upon her, as she always has, and Jon has long since accepted that he will never see her happily settled. Happiness has proven fleeting for the majority of his brother's children and grandchildren, with Landon surprisingly being the grandchild most successful in love. Jon hadn’t expected that little development but his surprise hasn’t lessened the sincerity of his happiness for the pair.
That, however, is enough self-indulgence for one morning. He is old, no longer required by the youths around him as he once was, but there are still duties he has to attend to, even if they are as small and simple as making an appearance at the breakfast table.