Tangled in Notes

This box... It’s been sitting in my palms for a few minutes now. For seven years, I have kept this with me in memory of my father and mother and no matter how long it has been ever since they left this world, I couldn’t stop myself from crying even if I wanted to. I opened the box and saw the pictures taken before. The photograph of me on father’s lap, in a piano stool welcomed me. I remembered daddy giving me the most precious thing I could have – the snowball. “Julia,” I remember the way his lips curving into a wide smile, the way he looked at me with his suit – navy blue polo, and a black necktie, the way he smelled that time. I remember, in the deepest of my memories, what happened in this picture. "Daddy has something for you. Tada!"         I can still feel the excite that I felt when I was five years old when he handed me this box that was wrapped in a Disney gift paper. I remembered feeling like a three year old who received a lollipop for the first time and I couldn’t bring myself to eat it because it was that precious. Daddy smiled at me like there was nothing wrong with him. That time, he told me how much money he earned just to get it for me. He told me he had to fight with the counter for not being responsible for his order. But among all reasons, he told me to give the snowball to someone special to me in the future. “I’ll give it to you then, Daddy.” “No, sweetie. Someone else. Besides me and mommy because when you grow up, you will be someone else’s princess, hm?” I placed the photo aside and in the corner of the box, I could see a familiar folded paper that I remembered drawing when I was six. Daddy was the first person I showed it to then mommy. The tickles he gave me that day were still fresh on my mind and it was almost as if I can still feel how it felt like tingling over my skin. It was the first time I told him that I wanted to become a singer like Taylor Swift and that someday, I’d sing a song I dedicate to him. Aside from anchoring news in the television, he was passionate with his music which I admired about him. Then this picture of me in a bicycle shows up. I smiled at the memory that Daddy had to pretend that I was finally doing it when in reality he was really holding the back of my bike just to balance it and make me think that I was doing great. Jane’s picture appeared and I remembered the first day she came in our family. I really loved Jane because I always wanted a sister. I was eleven when she was born but every happy ending comes a tragic happening. I was in a position where I hoped that everything was a nightmare. To hear such terrible news from my relatives sounded like knives in my heart. "They're gone Julia. They didn't make it through the surgery. They lost too many blood." All I know is that I couldn’t accept that awful truth about my parents’ accident. Aunt Mina and Uncle Dave were the ones that kept us all these years. Every night, I would cry inside my room praying for a miracle that was impossible because I knew then that death was something no human can revive. A tear rolled down my cheek thinking of the life Jane and I have if they were still alive. I never moved on. I never will. I know I should be happy that they’re already resting in peace but I just can't. Every time I remember everything we did – all the happy memories I had with my dad – he went through, he shared with me, makes me feel so sad. It's not always easy to lose someone very special and important to you. I miss you so much mommy – daddy.