The House at the Edge

As I left the hospital and made my way back home, I struggled to contain the storm of emotions raging within myself. My heart ached with a mixture of sadness, anger, and despair, and the weight of my mother's condition felt like a heavy burden I could not bear.

When I finally arrived home, I found my father engrossed in his phone, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil I were feeling. He showed no signs of worry or concern about my mother's condition, and his complete detachment from the situation struck me like a blow. 

As I walked through the door, my father continued to scroll through his phone, seemingly uncaring and unattentive. The sight of his nonchalant demeanor ignited a spark of anger within me. With a lump in my throat, I approached him, my voice filled with a mix of resentment and desperation.

"Don't you care about anything?" I exclaimed, my words punctuated by bitterness. "Mother is alone and suffering, and all you can do is focus on your damn phone! How can you be so heartless?"

"Also, YOU!… you said that her condition is not that bad, so what I just SAW just know! You lie to me! She didn't not look slightest healthy!"

I was unable to contain my feeling hence letting it out on him unconciously. I shouted and was really furious. 

My father looked up from his phone, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. "She's fine, they're taking good care of her at the hospital."

Anger bubbled within me, threatening to explode.

"Are you kidding me?!" I yelled. "She looked horrible! Pale, lost, and vacant. How can you say she's fine?"

My father's expression hardened as he put his phone down, his patience finally running out.

"Stop exaggerating," he said firmly. "You're overreacting. She's just having a tough time coping, that's all."

I bristled at his dismissal of my concerns.

"Overreacting?" I repeated incredulously. "She's wasting away in that hospital room, and you think I'm overreacting? She's not just having a tough time, she's practically lost in her own mind!"

My father sighed and ran a tired hand over his face.

"Look," he said, his tone slightly more sympathetic. "I know it's hard to see her like this, but you need to understand: your mother has been through a lot. Losing Alice has taken a toll on her. It's not that easy to just snap out of grief."

My father's tone softened a bit as he changed the subject.

"How did your exams go?" he inquired. "Did you do well? You need to get good grades you know."

The question took me off guard, and I stared at him in surprise. How could he ask me about exams at a time like this? But I responded nonetheless.

"I did my best," I said quietly, trying to keep my irritation in check. "But that's not the point. Mom needs us more than I need good grades right now."

"But still, why didn't you tell me earlier!" I shouted.

"Hey are you listening to me or are you ignoring me? It still didn't changed the fact that YOU are lying to me!"

"Yes! "I didn't want to burden you with your mother's condition while you're in the middle of exams," my father explained. "You needed to focus on your studies and perform well. Bringing up your mother would have just added to your stress."

"Your mother want the best for you so you need to make her proud. When she healthy back, she would smile to you like you always wanted. Okey?"

"Is that so?" I was so confused. That must be true since father know better about mom than me and he must deliberately hidden it from me as it is for the better as if i were to know, I might just rush to mom after hearing about it.

"I am so sorry, father"

My father's eyes softened, and he let out a deep sigh.

"It's alright," he said, patting me on the shoulder. "I understand why you're upset, but please try to understand that I only did it for your own sake. I thought it was best to let you focus on exams without worrying about your mother's condition."

"I know you really love her and you worry about her so you just need to always pray for her, okey?"

"Yes, i understood father"

"Thats my good and obidient son, mother must be really proud of you"

I smiled at my father's words, feeling a pang of guilt for all the times I had snapped at him. He was just trying to do what he thought was best for us. 

"Thanks, dad," I said sincerely. "I'll make sure to keep praying for mom."

After our conversation, my father and I resumed our usual routine. He went back to work and I went to my room to study. Despite the tension that had earlier filled the air, there was a new sense of understanding between us. We both realized that despite our differences, we were both trying our best to deal with the situation.

As the evening progressed, I found myself praying for my mother, hoping that she would somehow find her way back to us. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that it might be too late.