Milton was woken up by strong jerk by his mother. There was something wrong; her face - it was expressionless. Still fighting to come to his senses, he received the most frightening and confusing of all messages: His father had died. Milton was stricken down to his very core. Not a living cell in his body stayed indifferent to this horrific news. He felt like he was torn apart, disintegrated into tiny particles spread in the meaningless air, destined to never find their peace again.
But what defied his tiny amount of sane fraction of the brain that remained was his mother’s devoid of expressions face.
"We’ll bury him." she said, still keeping her unbelievably tormenting to Milton stony face. She rearranged some of the blankets that we scattered on the bed and left the room, leaving Milton gasping for air with an open mouth.
"Oh, my God, oh my God." Milton didn’t even notice how the words slipped through his mouth.
He was not a religious man, in fact, he had hated religion all his life. The overwhelming feeling that took over him in the moment when his mother told him about his father’s death turned him off as if he was a contraption with a switch off button. His believes, principles, reason, emotions, and being were shattered all at once, sending him into deep and dark trance.
He stood up, walked around the room, went into the other room. He was flying into terribly black thick clouds and there was no way out of them. Thunders were beginning to form deep inside the greyness, only he was able to see it. Milton found his phone and dialled his father’s phone. No one picked up on the other side.
“Oh, my God.“ he muttered.
His father was an ordinary man who went to work everyday but to Milton he was the wisest man of all. He didn’t possess all the knowledge of the world; he wasn’t the perfect father, the faults in Milton’s character were the prove of his father’s mistakes in his bringing up, but he was the most considerate, kind, and selfless man he had ever known. His hard work and devotion to his family commanded respect from everyone. Milton lost a part of himself when he heard his mother’s words. To lose this man meant the painful baring of his soul for him.
His phone rang. He looked at it and saw “DAD CALLING…” He pressed the green button and listened.
“Hello, who is this?“ said an unfamiliar voice of a woman with a specific accent that Milton was much familiar with.
“I’m his son.” said Milton.
“I’m…so sorry,” the woman stuttered. "It was an accident."
“How did it happen?“ a machine spewed up those words. The intonation of Milton’s voice was monotonic. The woman understood.
“He was turning right, when a truck ran a red light, hit him on the driver’s side. The speed was illegal.“ said the woman with a tone much more suitable for analyzing a mathematical equation than depicting a terrible accident.
“Thank you.” Milton said and hung up.
“What now?” he thought. He couldn’t answer this question. The house, his mother, bills and all that his father was taking care of was his burden now. But it did not matter. He knew that somehow he was going to take care of it all, but that gaping hole inside his gut was paralyzing. Why me? Why my father? Why, why, why, why, why, whyyyy? No answer. Just as when calling his father’s phone. No answer.