Daddy, Tears and Truth

57 minutes after she had burst into the house, she was still cusped i Hen her dad's arms, crying bitterly and worryingly sniffling. Tears soaked her dad's shirt, but like 21 years ago when he had consoled her after the death of her pet tadpole, he still stroked her head, held her tight in reassurance. He had always been there for her.

"Why? Why daddy?" She had enquired for 57 minutes, now going to an hour.

It scared him. Given a choice, he would rather she cried and sniffled than spear his heart with that searing question.

Really, he didn't know what had happened between Grace and her husband, never wanted to know. He had always kept a distance from their marriage, reasoning that the two would make their own life somehow. This time though, the pain of her daughter's weeping tested his resolve. He was thinking that maybe, just maybe, he had to intervene.

"Why dad?" she asked again, after seven minutes of a pause with occasional sniffs.

She slowly raised up her head to face her dad, revealing reddened eyes and clear mucus and tears running down her cheeks and nose. Her dad froze! What person was crying on his bosom was not his daughter. Pain had deformed her.

"Why must people marry? Why did I have to marry?"

He choked.

"Tell me daddy. You always knew everything, tell me. Why?"

He felt his hands begin to sweat.

"You never raised a word against my marrying Richard when I broke the news. Why?"

His heart skipped a beat.

"Daddy tell me, why do people marry and live this pain? Why?" Grace broke into convulsing sobs and again hid her face on her dad's chest. He was profoundly hurt. And, despite his stoic attempts, the river banks of his eyes broke and tears flooded his face.

He wanted to tell her the truth but was afraid. For once. He knew she trusted him and believed in him. Ever since her childhood, 'Daddy' was the wise man who knew all. And he was always right too. Like God. Things happened like he said they would.

He wanted to tell her that people marry to get children. For companionship. He wanted to tell her that people married to fulfill their love. That lovers married. That those married were lovers! That it was orthodox to marry...adults just had to marry, to have sex. Legitimately. Responsibly. It even crossed his mind to quote the Good Book. 'It was God's divine plan', he thought to say.

Yet, he knew it was all lies. It  was all wrong drivel contrived and propagated to save face and avoid 'whys'. There was only one reason people married. And he knew it. But was afraid that maybe she wasn't grown up enough to accept it.

He breathed in and out. Hard.

Then...

Daddy gingerly held his daughter's head up and as she expectantly looked up to him, he wiped off her tears and running nose with his hands and wiped the wetness on his shirt. For a long loving minute, he looked her girl deep in her soul. He kept wiping her face of the streams of pain,  but he let his tears flow down unattended.

Grace had never known God, for that was her daddy to her, to cry. She sat up, shell-shocked.

"Daddy, what is it?"

"Babygirl...," for that is what he called her, "...people marry to dance".

She watched her dad. She saw his heart in his tears and he saw in her eyes the turmoil of confusion...and then, slowly the revelation clearing her eyes. He could see the enlightenment creeping into her. It was painful, yet, the joy of her daughter finally seeing the truth warmed his heart.

Her lips parted and slowly, almost in slow motion, she edged her face closer to her dad's.

"And dances last no longer than the song!" she whispered life's open truth. He nodded.

For a very long time, 26 years, they embraced and Grace savored the salvation. She became free.

The music had stopped and no tears or sniffles would strum the guitar or beat the drums to repeat the song.

Another song may play one day, but for now, there was nothing more to dance to. The dancing shoes had to be unlaced and a sip of water taken deservedly.

She kicked off her shoes, her eyes dried and she sniffled no more.

Many minutes later, Daddy tiptoed with the weight of her sleeping daughter and placed her on her narrow childhood bed. And tucked her in. He had never seen someone sleep so peacefully ever since the doctors told him that Lynnette, his wife, ‘had gone to sleep’.

© Oluoch-Madiang’, 2014