Chapter Text
My mother was a devout Catholic. Every Sunday we went to church and each mass for other occasions we would be there. She always told me bedtime stories about the bible but in a more suitable way for a child. The way she would tell them was magical and full of wonder and mystery.
My mother WAS a devout Catholic. Dying young and leaving me at the age of 17 to figure out life. I was mad, at the hospital, at the doctor for not being able to help her, at god. I was mad at god, for taking her away, for taking away the women that spoke so softly and kindly of the one person that should have saved her. Should have protected her when she needed it most, even in her dying moments she did not resent God. She could only smile and say ‘God had a plan for everyone’.
That was a week ago, I look around the now almost fully packed apartment we shared all those years. The memories hurt more now it's all so empty. Walking along the walls I gaze at the photos of us, christmases, snow days, birthdays. Just the two of us, I never knew my dad. My mom would say it was not time to know yet. When I was younger I would keep begging her to tell me. But the older I got the less I asked.
Told me God would tell me when the time was right. But that just pissed me off, what does he know? He left my mother alone, he left me alone. To suffer in the absence of warmth and love I never get to experience again. Frustration builds up like a catapult till it snaps, resulting in letting that pent up anger go into a kick against one of the boxes. It topples over with a full thud as it opens, spilling books and one small trinket box all over the floor.
With an agitated sigh I kneel down and pick up the books, placing them back in the box “God will show when it's time... time my ass. How could you even believe it then”. Once all the books are back in the box I grab the small little trinket box, an ache goes through my heart as I look at it. Gently tracing my thumb along the decorative designs that are engraved in the wooden lid.
It was my mother's, as it was from her mother and so forth. She would never let me touch it or even show what was inside. She was not a person of many secrets, but this was one of they only ones. Sitting against the closest wall on the floor I turn around the trinket box in my hands “I remember the way you would tell me off for trying to sneak a peek. You never could yell at me. Always so calm and gentle... but I guess you can't stop me now”
It feels wrong to even do so, but the gnawing curiously is taking over. Gently I open the lid, almost as if any minute now she could still walk into the room telling me off about opening the damned thing. And for a moment I waited, I waited for it to be so. As if by some define miracle God did decide to bring you back. Only silence and my breathing is heard, I guess that's it. Opening the lid all the way I peer inside as to what she was so desperately hiding.
At the top there are some letters, yellowed with age and frayed at the edges. Setting them aside I pick up a simple gold wedding band. The yellow metal glistened in the light as I try to find any engraving but only to find it empty. Testing to see if it fits I slip it around my fingers one by one “You never told me you were married. Were you even married? You never dated that I know”. Sadly the ring is too dainty so I unclasp my necklace with my cross on it And slip the ring in the chain, clasping the necklace back around my neck I look at the last thing left in the box. It's a photograph but with the back up. Neat handwriting decorating it “Love can be greater than God. Think of me in your darkest moments and I will guide you with Light”.
Could this be something of my father, my heart starts to tighten at the thought of finally being able to know. 17 years of asking, 17 years of yearning to know who he could be. Today could be the day. Slowly I flip the photo around. It's old, it's seen it's time for sure. In the picture is my mother, years younger. A bright smile on her face as her dark curly hair is neatly styled. Beside her is a man, dark blonde hair, blue eyes that could pierce your soul. A sly smile on his face as he has an arm around my mother. Standing in this very apartment, closer than friends would be.
So this is it, this must be the man that is my father. There is no other way, the text at the back suggests so. Now it's only a matter of finding him, but good fortune it reverse image search. I fumble my phone out of my pocket as my hands shake. I lost my mother, but I have a chance to meet my father. Snapping a picture with my phone just of the man I take a deep breath, the search shows what it found. Instead of taking another breath I am frozen. At what is glaring back at me, lighting the screen up with an almost mocking Light.
My mother was a devout Catholic, she took pride in the way she would keep to the rules set by the church. But everyone has their secrets. Even my mother as kind and sweet she was. My mother was a devout Catholic, and I guess she took that one step further then others. On my phone screen hundreds of pictures turn up. All off one man, Pius the 13th, the current Pope.