Once again, everything turned dark. I felt it again, the shifting of darkness.
I can finally see the pattern: Everything turned dark whenever we switched memories before moving to a new one. It was almost like a school play closing the curtains every time it changed its backdrop to signify the change of scene. How convenient.
"We're here." Death announced.
Everything started as a blur, like when you were out in the rain, and a lost raindrop fell in your eye. But slowly, as you blink multiple times, it clears up.
I squinted as the burst of nude colors erupted from the once-dark room. Slowly, shapes became concrete, and I could finally distinguish what was happening with my surroundings.
We were inside a room with walls painted in beige, with pictures of a family, a couple, and an older boy and a young girl nailed to the wall.
In the middle of the room was a TV on a wooden table. It was an old model shaped like a cube, not the expensive flat-screen ones that can be found in your contemporary American living room.
In front of it was a transparent glass coffee table and a chocolate-colored sofa. The wooden floor was decorated with an arabesque carpet, so red and out of place in the brown-themed room.
The room wasn't a large room, per se. However, it seemed like it from a child's point of view. This place seemed familiar, nostalgic even. But, of course, it is. It was the living room where I grew up.
I looked around the place. It was as clear and crisp as I remembered. It made sense since we're living in the memory.
"Evangeline?" My eyes widened upon hearing the familiar voice, and I spun around as quickly as possible to ensure I had it right.
Standing near the door, a familiar man stood in front of me.
"Dad?" I whispered, my voice shaking.
He stood at 5"8, an average height for a man, yet seemed so tall when I was young. I didn't say Dad was an attractive man; he was more or less average.
He had wrinkles forming on his forehead even though he was just in his mid-30s, and stubble forming on his face despite consistently shaving every few days. His nose was a bit crooked after a motorcycle accident during his younger days, and so were his teeth. But what he lacked in the face department, he made up with his sense of style.
He wore a sky-blue dress shirt tucked into his gray trousers secured by a leather belt. His shoes were stylish brown Oxfords that Mom gifted him on their anniversary, pointy and shiny, exactly how he liked them. He smiled as he opened his arms for a hug.
I ran towards him. My legs were moving forward before I realized what I was doing. I wrapped my arms around him only for it to pass through his body like I was touching smoke.
I gasped and attempted to embrace him again, only for my body to pass through like before. I did it again and again, but the outcome was the same.
Tears continued to trickle down my cheeks as I desperately tried to touch him, but to no avail. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around only to see Death looking at me in pity.
"Remember, Evangeline, this is the past. You cannot interact with them. We can only watch from the sidelines as your past unfolds."
Hesitantly, I nodded and wiped the tears from my eyes. I walked away from Dad and returned to where Death was standing.
When I left the scene, a small figure ran to join my dad. It was the younger me, albeit a little older than me in the previous memory.
My long brown hair was tied in a ponytail, with a few messy strands going out of its way. My fringes, this time, were trimmed right above my eyes, revealing a set of stormy grays.
I was wearing a blue floral dress with a tinge of purple and a dainty lavender ribbon attached to the back. Her jelly flats were transparent and comfortable, although I didn't think they matched her dress.
I embraced my dad as tightly as I could. The me in the present could only stand and stare helplessly with Death beside me.
"I assume you were close with your Dad?" Death asked.
"Very." I smiled, yet my voice was melancholy. "You can consider me as a daddy's girl back then."
"Let me guess," He teasingly placed his pointing finger on his cheeks. "He gave you daddy issues?"
I glared at him but didn't say anything because it was true.
Just as I was about to come up with a rebuttal, Death pointed at the scene before us while gesturing that it was about to continue.
"Dad," I said with my soft, tiny voice. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to the garden." Dad knelt so our heights would be the same and he could look at her eye-to-eye, not in an intimidating way. It was comforting, as if he was meant to say that he should not be feared but respected and loved instead. "Would you like to join me? We could plant tomatoes if you'd like."
"But Daaaaaad, I don't like tomatoes!" I pouted.
"Oh, sorry, I forgot." Dad scratched the back of his head and laughed. "How about your favorite flower? Sunflowers, was it?"
I smiled brightly at him and nodded my head.
"Go change your clothes, and I'll wait for you outside. Can you also get the gardening supplies in the shed?" He added as an afterthought.
I nodded as I hurried towards my room to do as I was told.
Once I changed my clothes for gardening and exited my room, I immediately grabbed the supplies from the shed. I met Dad in the back of our house where the garden was.
"Shall we start?" Dad smiled at her.
As I was about to say yes, I saw a familiar boy in my peripheral view.
My head immediately turned with my stormy gray eyes widening as I saw my neighbor and best friend, Dante, peeking out of the white fence.
"Dante!" I squealed.
Dante waved at me with a sheepish look on his face. He looked as if he didn't expect to be caught so soon for snooping around.
"Hi, Evangeline." He then turned his gaze to the older Vermillion, lowering his head politely. "Good morning, Mr. Vermillion."
Dad gave him an affirming nod. Even though Dad exuded warmth in their household, he was always timid around other people.
"What are you guys doing?" Dante peeked at the seeds that Dad and I were preparing..
"Dad says we're planting sunflowers!" I exclaimed excitedly.
"I like sunflowers," Dante replied shyly.
"You do?" my gray eyes glittered in awe.
"Yeah!" Dante grinned.
I looked at Dad, pleading with my eyes for permission. There was this thing between us where I just needed to look at him, and Dad immediately understood what I meant by that.
Just like any other occasion, Dad understood and nodded. I beamed at him before looking at Dante again.
"Do you wanna join us to plant some flowers, Dante?" I asked with excitement evident in my voice.
"I'm not doing anything in particular, so sure! I don't mind helping!" Dante tried to make it sound like he was doing them a favor, but I knew he was dying to plant those sunflower seeds as I did.
I muttered a 'Wait a minute, Dante' before rushing towards the gate and opening it for Dante. Dante ran to their gate, and I greeted him as soon as he arrived. I grabbed his hand as he entered our property and led him toward the garden.
"Whoa," Dante looked mesmerized. "You have lots of flowers and vegetables!"
"I know!" I said proudly. "Dad takes good care of the garden!"
It was true. I'm not saying this to boast, but perhaps I would say my memory might have exaggerated the beauty of Dad's garden. But anyway, Dad's garden was something else.
On the left side were the vegetables, from artichokes to zucchinis; he planted them all. On the right side were the flowers, which bloomed beautifully to create a variety of colors that were calming enough to awestruck anybody who could behold it.
Of course, my favorite out of all his plants was the sunflowers. I knelt to take a small shovel from the supplies bucket and gave it to Dante.
Dante fished it from my hands gleefully. Soon, they began digging to plant the seeds, making a huge mess on their clothes.
"Your mothers will get mad at me," Dad said, yet he was laughing.
Now, at present, I couldn't help but feel glum as I watched the scene before us.
"I never did get to see the flowers bloom," I whispered to no one in particular, yet Death still heard me.
He gave me a sideward glance because he knew the reason well.
"When Dad died," I continued upon noticing Death's look that egged me to continue. "I stopped gardening altogether. It reminded me of him so much that I find it too painful to commit to."
"Your father would've wanted you to continue it, though." Death commented, probably trying to make me feel better.
I gave him a bitter smile, looking away. "Dead people don't know how to feel."