Wednesday, April 4, 2012

A scrapbook of memories (Alice Post)

Black, seemed to be my color lately, I was after all still rather in mourning for my father, and while I didn’t relish the color, it seemed to reflect my mood. I couldn’t help it. My normal chipper mood had turned dark. Every time I walked past a picture of my father or something that reminded me of him, the tears would come. And I couldn’t just, couldn’t bring myself up out of my grief just yet.

Instead, I tried to dwell on the happy memories I had of Carlisle. I had started a scrapbook of Carlisle. Things he had said, things he liked, pictures and other personal items. I had gathered all these items and put them into a pile when I found the letter my father had written me. I stared at it for a few moments, turning it this way and that. Was I really ready to open it yet? I felt tears sting my eyes. No, I thought, I wasn’t ready to open it just yet and set the letter aside.

However, after staring at the letter for several moments, I decided it was time to open it. They were after all, Carlisle’s words. Perhaps reading the letter, bringing back a small part of him, would help ease this everlasting pain I had in my chest.

I started to read the letter finally after carefully breaking my father’s seal and within seconds the tears that had been trying to come all day, started to slowly spill. I looked softly at the letter. Of course it started with Carlisle telling me not to blame myself.

I supposed I didn’t really blame myself for Carlisle’s death. No, I blamed the Volturi. The family that ruled our kind for killing my father. What had Carlisle done to deserve to die? Simply because he lived with humans didn’t seem to be enough. I knew there were some other reasons for Aro wanting Carlisle dead. But I just still couldn’t grasp the idea of Carlisle being dead. So no, I didn’t blame myself for my father’s death. That wasn’t simply in my nature. Instead, I laid the blame sorely on the Volturi. Where it should have been laid. If only I could have done more to--- What would I have done anyway? Storm the castle and take over the Volturi? That was stupid. Besides not possible. Not to mention, Carlisle would never have wanted that.

Sitting very still, I finally went back to the letter. Carlisle mentioned how changed Edward had become after I joined the family. I sighed softly at the mention of my brother’s name. Edward wanted a grand memorial for Carlisle. He wanted to try and take Carlisle’s place as leader of our family. I didn’t quite approve of this. I thought that it should be Esme’s place to take over. I felt that we didn’t need to throw a big memorial for Carlisle. He wouldn’t have wanted this. No, I didn’t think my father would want that at all.

However, I knew better than to go against Edward. I simply, didn’t have the energy it would take to go against him at the moment so I gave him some ideas. I could see both possibilities taking place. A small memorial or a big one. Though, I voted more for the small one.

Carlisle wrote that he was humbled that I had chosen him instead of the Volturi. I had to smile at that. I had never seen myself living with the Volturi. Instead, it was always Carlisle. With Carlisle I would have had something so much more than I would ever have with the Volturi.

Of course he finished it with saying he would, if given the chance be watching over me. Like a small guardian Angel. I smiled again at that image and try as I may, I couldn’t see my father in heaven or any other sort of afterlife. I sighed and gently placed the letter in the scrap book I was working on. If I closed my eyes and looked just right I could still see Carlisle smiling at me. I decided that was going to be my last memory of him, and softly shut my scrap book. Thinking I would work on it more tomorrow.

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