Now You Can Live Life to the Fullest

Now Theres a Chance to Live

Margaret stood at the edge of the grave, watching as the coffin was lowered into the earth.

The November wind was sharp, flapping the mourning ribbon on the wreath and sneaking under her coat, making her shiver and pull her shoulders tight.

Beside her, Aunt Dorisa distant cousin whom Margaret had met only a handful of timessobbed quietly.

Her mother appeared composed, although the fingers clutching Margarets hand were icy cold.

Her father

Margaret stared at the casket, trying to grasp what she felt.

Nothing.

Just a resounding emptiness inside, like an old cottage in the winter, long since abandoned and left without warmth.

He was a good man, someone murmured behind her. May he rest in peace.

Margaret nearly laughed out loud.

Good?!

How could they know?

They saw him at Christmases, sober and smiling, playing the accordion. Golden hands, heart of the party, jolly fellow.

That was all.

They never saw him at home.

Margaret closed her eyes, and memories surfaced: she was about seven, awakened at night by a racket. Her father stumbling in, missing the door, reeking of gin and something sour. Her mother struggling to pull him to their room; he would thrash, shout, You dont respect me! Margaret squeezed her eyes shut and hauled the blanket up to her forehead, desperate to see and hear nothing.

In the morning, her father would sit at the kitchen table, face drawn, sipping pickle juice and saying, Sorry, love, lost control. Wont happen again.

But it always did.

Always.

Margaret opened her eyes. The grave was covered now; wreaths lay atop the mound. People trickled out of the cemetery. Her mother gently touched her elbow:

Come along, love. Weve got the wake

At the wake, Margaret sat among strangers. She ate, nodded, answered condolences. Inside, an unrelenting thought battered her, one she wanted to scream:

Why dont I feel anything? Why doesnt it hurt?

That evening, after everyone left, she remained with her mother in the kitchen. They drank tea in silence. Then her mother spoke:

You know, Margaret, Ive just thought… something odd.

Margaret lifted her gaze.

I realised that nowI dont have to be afraid anymore. He wont collapse somewhere, freeze, or disappear. We can justlive.

Margaret searched her mothers eyes and saw the same terror she felt herself. Not grief, but relief.

Am I bad? her mother whispered.

Margaret shifted closer, wrapping her arms around her mothers shoulders.

No, Mum. Were not bad. Were just exhausted.

They sat there until dawn, recounting memories. Not the drinking, but different ones: her father crafting a dollhouse for Margaret, teaching her to ride a bicycle, bringing home a huge watermelon from the market so the three of them could eat it, sitting cross-legged on the floor because it wouldnt fit on the table.

He was many things. And that, too, was true.

Soon her mother went to bed, leaving Margaret alone. She took out her phone and sent a message to her husband: Im all right. Ill come tomorrow.

Suddenly, Margaret realised she was breathing evenly for the first time in days. No anxiety. No waiting for a call with dreadful news. No constant, gnawing tension.

Her father was gone. Life at last felt peaceful.

She knew the thought would return. She would wake at night, haunted by guilt. Aunt Doris and the others would whisper for ages, Heartless thing, didnt even cry.

But now, in this quiet flat, with no smell of stale gin and no thunderous midnight arguments, Margaret allowed herself a moment of honesty.

Forgive me, Dad, she said softly to the emptiness. I did love you. Truly. But I was so weary of hating you.

In the morning, she left.

On the train, she spent ages gazing at the bleak November countryside, eventually pulling out her notebook to jot down a response to the thoughts swirling in her mind:

Children of alcoholics dont cry at funerals. Theyve shed their tears through years of living with the illness. It isnt heartlessnessits survival.

Margaret closed the notebook and, for the first time in ages, allowed herself a smile.

The train carried her awayto another life. A life where she no longer had to look back.