Journey of love - IV (A daughter - II)

That Saturday, I managed to take a weekly off for Amy’s concert. My parents and in-laws told that they were coming too. The day before, I called my wife and told her that I was going to the mall to pick up a small gift for Amy. As I roved the shelves of the shopping complex, I searched for the one doll that my wife knew Amy would like. About a while later, I was heading home with a chocolate brown teddy with a light blue bow – tie. The color reminded me of the day Amy entered our lives. Two hours before the concert, Amy was impatient on getting into the car. Finally, after much persistence, she managed to pull us out of the house and into the car. When we reached the town hall, the crowd was already there. It was the investiture of the new mayor of the town, and Amy and her troupe were to perform in the cultural evening. Before I left Amy in the care of the ballet dancers, I told her that she looked real pretty. She asked, “How pretty, daddy?” I came close to her ears, and whispered with a wink, “So pretty, that you are giving your mom some serious competition.” Amy chuckled and looked over my shoulder at her mother. She stood with my parents, waving at Amy. The instructor took her away. I watched her disappear into the hall.

The ceremony was a boring one. We were impatient, waiting for the performance to begin. Finally, the cultural program began. My dad was prepared with the camcorder. The ballet started. I could spot Amy in the side. She was looking into the dark crowd. I stood up and waved my hand. She jumped up and waved back, all excited. I was amazed; she did not show any signs of stage fright. My colleagues wished me luck as the performance began. I watched the dance intensely. Her every move and step; they were flawless. She was so focused for her age. And she always smiled. I smiled too. Until….

As she moved for the final turn on the stage, I noticed that she was not smiling. Instead, she was panting. Instinctively, I knew that something was not right. I held my wife’s hand as I watched Amy take her final leap on the stage. But she did not. All of a sudden, she stopped in her tracks. I was unsure of what was going on. Amy looked in our direction, her eyes rolled, and she collapsed. Our little went into some kind of convulsions. As the hall erupted in concern, time slowed down as I looked at my daughter. I read her lips. She said slowly,

“Help me, daddy….”

My wife let out a shriek. I left her hand and raced to the stage. The other ballet dancers gathered to a side, scared by what was happening to little Amy. I rushed to Amy’s side and picked her up. “I AM TAKING HER TO THE HOSPITAL!!!” I shouted out to my family. As I carried Amy in my arms, she felt so frail. No, I thought, maybe it’s the dress that she’s wearing. “Amelia!” I told her, “Stay with me. Daddy is here now.” I headed to the car, and my wife was in the driver’s seat. She said that she would drive. I sat in the backseat with Amy in my arms. We got to the nearest hospital quickly. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road. As soon as the car drew to a halt, I got out with Amy in my arms and rushed to the casualty ward. I entered the ward, with tears in my eyes. “HELP ME HERE!!” I shouted, “MY BABY IS NOT WELL!!” A nurse rushed to my side with a stretcher and put Amy on it. As we wheeled her into the emergency room, I looked at my girl. She was unconscious and sweaty. I was so scared that I could not control my emotions. Soon my wife came to my side, and I hugged her, not wanting to let go. I wanted this to stop. But it didn’t.

The doctor called us to his office. We asked him, “How’s our girl?” He looked at me slowly, then away, and said, “I think it’s better if you first sit down.” I know people and situations, and I knew that I was going to hear something bad. I sat down with my wife. I held her hand. She was tense. She had every reason to be so. I patted her had comfortingly and told her that we will see this through. I looked at the doctor. He was grim. “Well doctor,” I asked, “What’s wrong with my daughter?”
“She has a heart problem.”

I was shocked. I thought of many things, but never expected this. My wife was already crying on my shoulder. I controlled the tears in my eyes. “Will she be fine?” I asked him, “When can we take her home?”
“You cannot take her home.”
“Why not?”

“I hate to tell you like this, but Amelia will not be with us for long.”

My wife opened the door to Amy’s ward. She looked frail. And there were many tubes in and out of her body. My wife went to Amy’s side and sat with her. My mind was still reeling of the meeting with the doctor. He told us that Amy had a rare heart problem where her heart was working too hard. One of her heart valves was deformed. The tragic part was that her condition was at an advanced stage, and there was nothing that the doctor could do. I was lost in thoughts. I wondered what I would have to do next. I looked at my family in front of me. I saw my wife and my daughter. She was lying in bed with Amelia. Their eyes were closed and my wife placed a gentle hand on her sleeping child’s heart. The same scene was reminiscent in my memory. It was Déjà vu. The only difference was that earlier, my wife and daughter slept the same way on first day Amy came to us. And now, Amy was leaving us, the same way.

A year later, I sat at the dining table. My wife sat opposite me. I was reading the newspaper. But I sensed that my wife was looking at me. I kept the paper down. I looked at her. I read her face. But I did not want to do that. I got up to go to work. “I will be a little late today dear. Clive wants me to work an extra hour. I will get some food….”
“Dear….”
“… so I will tell Martina to get the laundry and…”
“YOU ARE NOT HEARING ME!!!”

I very well knew what she was going to say. I sighed. “I cannot do it,” I told her, “I cannot forget.” She got up and came over to my side. Emotions were getting the better of me. She sat next to me and held my hand. I gripped it tightly. I looked at her. “My dear,” she said slowly, “you don’t have to remember. You have to let it go. It has not been easy for me, but can’t you see, I am still here with you. We have struggled in the past, and I am sure that we will face our difficulties with strength.”

I sighed. She was right. We really struggled in the year past, since Amy’s sudden illness. In fact, it was year since her diagnosis. The words of the doctor still rang in my mind, crumbling my weak heart. My wife slowly squeezed my hand. I looked at her. She was looking in my eyes, for some sign of comfort. I forced a smile, and gave her hug. But I did not speak. Instead, I held her for a while, in utter silence. She held my embrace. Then I told her, “I think I will go upstairs for a while.” She looked at me, concerned. I caught her look and smiled, telling her, “Don’t worry, I am okay.” She returned my smile and went back to her cooking.

As I walked up the stairs, my mind went up in memory of my beloved daughter. It reminded me of the moments she used to run up the stairs, tagging her dolls and satin ballet shoes. When I reached her room, I paused as I placed my hand door handle. I closed my eyes and filtered out my worries. Finally, my mind was clear. And I opened the door.

The room was pretty much like it was since she was admitted in the hospital. It was neat, with all her toys neatly arranged, but looked untouched. As my sight shifted to the bed, I saw a teddy bear. It was the same one I had given her on the day of her diagnosis. It was laid on the bed, with its feet and torso tucked neatly under the covers. The bed cover was ruffled. I went over the side, and sat there. I placed my hand on the crumpled cover gently. And then, there was a movement. I just looked on as I pulled down the covers. And there I see a small figure, curled to a side, with eyes closed. It was my daughter, Amelia.

Yes, she recovered, and was saved in a nick of time through prayers and surgery. As I stroked her soft forehead, I remembered how she faltered through her first steps post surgery to the boisterous brat she had become now. And all her mischief had made her tired, pulling her into a deep slumber. I brushed her soft cheeks with my fingers, and it reminded me of how she laid in my arms for the first time. The brittle skin of my palm had stirred her, and her eyelids slowly fluttered to life. I looked at her, with a tear in my eye, and said softly, “Hello beautiful.” Her sleepy face slowly brightened with a smile. She sat up and wiped the tear off my cheek, asking, “Why are you crying daddy?”

I just looked at her with a smile, and told her, “It’s nothing dear. Well I…” I fumbled, “I love you, Amy.” She smiled even more and hugged me, saying, “I love you too, daddy.” I held her close, and rocked her slowly, repeating those same words. Then I felt it. It was déjà vu. Only this time, I was sure that I had kept her closer and above all, safer.

And now I felt content, completed with a loving wife and with the flame of my life, the only one, prettier than my wife.

And that was my daughter,
Amelia