mjj (flemmings) wrote,
mjj
flemmings

Today's prompt today!


"Your hands once touched this table and this silver"

After grandfather died Mom and my grandmother went through his papers and sorted everything away into his desk drawers. The books that were usually heaped around his desk went back into their slipcovers and onto the shelves. The pens went into the pen holder. After that his desk was always kept clean and dusted. No one used the study and no one said why, but we all knew it was still my grandfather's. On warm days I'd go there with my books because it was cool and peaceful and safe. The sense of him was everywhere. Once or twice I recall having conversations with him about what I was reading. It was a lot later that I realized, if I was able read, then I must have been at least six at the time. My grandfather died when I was five. But of course that wasn't a problem, not for him.

When my father died no one cleaned out his study. No one knew he was dead, including me. Things were tidied a bit-- put in neat stacks on his desk. I remember going in once or twice and seeing them all sitting there in the gloom. My father was still recuperating in my parents' bedroom, unable to walk or talk or do much but move his eyes. When he got mobile he moved into the study and pretty much stayed there. He liked being in the back wing of the house more than in the family rooms up front. Maybe Mom thought it a hopeful sign, that he wanted to be near his handbooks and tables and all.

But of course he never went back to work.

Sometimes when I'm sitting there having dinner with Aoarashi I look around at the study. My father's papers are long gone, back to the firm he worked for, I suppose. His engineering textbooks and handbooks sit on the shelf, their titles meaningless to me. They represent a whole range of knowledge that I'll never know anything about, a whole side to my father that I'll never find out about now. Sometimes I can almost see the man he'd be if he'd lived, a pale man with greying hair and a little smile, who talks about universities I might try out for and professions I might go into. But it's a dim, fading spectre. It vanishes in the face of the reality that sits across the table from me, wearing my father's clothes and my father's body, and sharing nothing else of him at all.

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Although actually IIRC Aoarashi moved into Kagyuu's study. So no need for sniffly depression.
Tags: 100demons, fic
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