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Freezing. It had been absolutely freezing cold for the past while, the sort of freezing cold that caused you to shiver underneath several layers of blankets for hours ceaselessly. The cold bit relentlessly, tormenting all who happened to fall into its ferocious grasps. The winter had been harsher than it had been for quite some time, a horrible winter. So, when Theodosia Prevost Burr had started to fall unwell, no one had questioned the woman’s ailments, thinking them no more than a simple chill.
The brown-haired woman had started with just fever, not a high enough fever for her husband, Aaron Burr, to worry, one he was sure he could control. Aaron wasn’t known to be a worrier, he thought calmly and logically about each situation, forming causes and solutions to each problem that arose- his wife’s illness was just another problem he had to overcome. That had been his approach, calm and collected... until it had gotten worse.
He wasn’t sure when it went from a chill to an illness with such grips on the frail woman that Aaron barely recognised her. It all happened in a blur, really. A blur of freezing cold winter to a less harsh spring, a spring that brought across the sound of chirping birds and small lambs, the spring that Aaron was convinced would help his wife.
The spring hadn’t brought to Aaron’s any of his wishes, them being no more than just the wishful thinking of a distraught husband. As the spring progressed into early May, he could barely stand to watch her condition falter further and further into the oblivion and end that was illness. Aaron could see her weaker and weaker- it was devastating, and he refused to rest unless she was better, by whatever miracle, he prayed.
18th May 1794.
“Theod…Theodosia. Take care of... of her for... for me. M-my Theodosia...” the last words. Words so weak and fragile that it sounded like a small child, a small child with a raspy but still melodic voice. A voice ingrained into Aaron’s memory so deep, a voice, whenever remembered, would make his breath hitch, and send waves of cold down his spine.
He wasn’t even sure when Theodosia had died. He knew the date, the time, the moment her hand stopped grasping at his, the final letters uttered off her almost blue lips, cold. Aaron recognised all of these; he was able to point out when they happened... but it was almost as if he refused to believe it. He didn’t cry. Not of an immediate reaction, anyway, crying came later. A gasp of shock first, a breath, and a stare.
“Theo?” he asked first, the question rolling of his tongue with a shiver of fear that ran down his spine.
“Theodosia?” he tried once more, no hope made its way into the question, however, just a pressing sadness that felt too heavy to bear.
How? Why? Why Theodosia? Aaron had done everything; taken every approach he could muster up. Fake hope had gleamed at the edges, to hold onto the hope felt magnificent, like a shining star amidst the never-ending blackness that felt like his wife’s illness. The hope was the last thing that kept him sane through it all, the shining star that kept him up from giving up on it all. And now it was gone. Gone in all but a second. Dead.
“Papa?” A voice. A voice just as melodic as her mothers. And a girl, no older than eleven, the image of her mother and the picture of grace. He was blessed to his have his daughter, his Theodosia.
“I want to come see how Mama is...” the was an unusual edge to the usually carefree girl’s voice, a tone that had never been hinted at before. A tone that hurt Aaron further; he didn’t want to his little girl to feel any such was as he was feeling. Even though the room was stifling with the spring (moving on toward summer) heat, a harsh tremor still passed through the man’s body at the fear and sadness situated in his daughter’s voice.
Dear Theodosia, how to say to you, sometime last night, your mother breathed you name.
“I-“Aaron wasn’t sure what to say. Never was he a man at a loss for words. Ever. But all he wanted to do was fall to his knees, beg and plead for Theodosia to come back. But that was delusional, even he knew that.
“...mama was very ill, my love. She... s-she,” he was at a loss, unable to breathe for guilt; choking.
Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes, making their way into every gap they could find. Welling up with such ferocity as cadged lions, starving and hungry. His chest constricted as he forced back the tears that screamed to be let free, that begged and pleaded to fall down his dark skin in a ceaseless reign. But he couldn’t have that.
...Oh, but he could. Without warning, a gasping sob broke through him, tearing through his chest and releasing the tears he had been capturing. He fell to the floor. The man’s knees hit the wooden floor, hurting upon impact, but a grounding pain. He could not lose himself in the grief that was trying desperately to pull himself underneath the metaphorical walls he had built while she was dying. The grief tried so hard.
She dedicated every day to you, she changed my life, she made my life worthwhile...
“And when you smile, I know a part of her lives on,” he finally choked out. The fleeting images of his daughter, now crouching beside him, came and went as quickly as the winter months had. But they all had an acute similarity: Theodosia was smiling.
And that’s all he ever wanted her to do, smile. She had a smile like flowers and butterflies, like a lamp in the darkest of nights, not ever faltering and ceasing for a moment. Even if, now, the young girl had cradled herself in her papa’s arms, sobbing her heart out, silently, there was still some light air to her. Even if, together, on the hard wooden floor in a scarcely illuminated home, mid-spring, crying, they looked distraught... there was just some beacon of hope that kept life from shutting down entirely.
“Thank you, Papa,” Theodosia stated, her child voice shrouded in a hoarse crying sound. A sound that pained Aaron to hear.
“What for, my love?” Aaron replied, his voice equally as foggy, but with curiosity toying at the edges slightly.
“Being my father,” she spoke slow and soft, into the crook of her father’s neck.
“I will never leave you, not ever, Theodosia, okay?” Aaron replied, his tone true and passionate, however clouded by sadness there was.
And then a single smile. He felt it, he felt the imprint of a child’s smile on his neck, a wet smile full of tears, but the smile he so longed to see. Theodosia Burr would be happy. She would be happy to see her baby girl smiling. They would smile together... and that’s all Aaron wanted. His two girls, laughing and joking, hair flowing in every direction without a care- smiling.
But he couldn’t ever have that again. Never could he see his wife’s beautiful grin. Not until he saw her again... oh he hoped it was soon.
You have come of age with our young nation we bleed and fight for you sometimes it seems that’s all we do. But you and I will build a strong foundation. And I’ll be here for you the way is clear for you to blow us all away.