How do I go on without you? What am I meant to do now? Why should I carry on? The tears streamed down my cheeks as I sat there, empty inside. Where my heart used to be, now there was just a gaping, black hole.
My love for Alice began back in school. She was a petite, delicate girl with a sprinkling of ginger freckles on her nose. Thats how I saw her for the first time, and even then, in Year 6, I fell for her completely.
Alice was three years younger than me. She was always top of her class, never failing to impress teachers, always modest and a little shy.
Every year, my affection for Alice grew. Id watch her during break, skipping rope with her friends in the playground, seeming light as a butterfly. I dreamed of marrying her one day.
When I returned from serving in the army, I went straight to Alices house that very day, a bouquet of flowers in hand, ready to ask for her hand in marriage.
Alices father was a stern, serious man. He spoke to me at length in their front room, but eventually, smiling at last, he placed Alices hand in mine.
Our wedding was huge, joyful, and brimming with relatives, even those from the farthest corners of the country. The celebrations lasted three days. Alices eyes shone with happiness and, I must admit, I was quite pleased with myself, believing Id married the brightest bride in the whole village.
With support from our families, Alice and I were able to buy a cottage within two years. She was radiant with happiness. Three months before our first child arrived, we moved into our own home. It finally felt real.
Our daughter was born and we named her Emily, for Alices grandmother. Emily was strong and healthy, but Alices labour was long and difficult.
For a year after Emilys birth, Alice was pale and seemed utterly exhausted. I took her to every doctor in London, but each simply shrugged and said the same thing: only time could restore her strength.
When Emily was a year and a half, Alice learned she was expecting again. This time, the doctors suggested she terminate the pregnancy. They said she was still too weak, her body unready. If she carried on, it might cost her life or the babys.
I urged Alice to listen to the doctors, but she refused, strong-willed as ever.
I wont get rid of my child! Its not their fault for wanting to be born. Whatever happens, happens, she said. God will decide.
The last month was especially tough and Alice was kept in hospital. Emily missed her mother deeply, and I wandered the empty rooms restlessly, overcome by a sense of impending doom.
My fears proved right. Alices heart gave out during labour. She was gone, but two beautiful twin girls had come into the world.
At the cemetery, I stared at the mound of earth, my vision blurred. My whole life with Alice replayed in slow motion the happy days, her smile, the lovely ring of her laughter echoing in my ears. I dropped to my knees and sobbed like a wounded animal.
How do I go on without you? What am I meant to do? Whats the point, now? Tears ran down my face, and all that was left inside me was emptiness. Where my heart should have been, there was only a void.
After the funeral, I drowned myself in grief and drink, trying to forget Alices voice and her cheerful laughter that played endlessly in my mind.
Alices parents took the girls to live with them. They felt sure I would never recover enough to be a good father.
On the fortieth day after Alices passing, I drank myself to oblivion and fell asleep in the hallway. I dreamed that Alice came home wearing a flowing white dress, her ginger hair tumbling softly over her shoulders, shining in the sunrise.
She came to me, gently stroked my hair, and spoke as tenderly as she always did:
Harry, my love, what on earth are you doing? Arent you ashamed? She narrowed her green eyes at me and waggled her finger in that way she did.
The girls never see their father, and theyre missing you. They need you, just as you needed me. If you still love me, then dont abandon our daughters love them, as you loved me.
I woke up, my mind suddenly clear. The sunlight was already spilling through the window, warming my cheek.
As soon as the sun had climbed above the trees, I made my way to Alices parents’ house: clean-shaven, freshly pressed, altogether changed. My seriousness and maturity must have aged me fifty years overnight.
Without a word, I kissed my mother-in-laws hand, hugged my father-in-law tightly, collected my three girls, and took them home.
From then on, it was just the four of us. I tried my best to be both father and mother. I learned to cook, wash, mend, and even braid hair soon enough, I could plait better than many mums. The girls were well-behaved and diligent at school, and if anyone upset them, I was there in an instant.
Neighbours often asked me:
Why dont you marry again, Harry? Youre still a young man, good-looking and healthy. There are plenty of women whod love to have you.
Id just smile and reply:
I am still married.
Just look I already have three brides at home! Do you think Id cope with a fourth? No, that would be far too much!
And so, with laughter, sleepless nights, and endless hard work, I raised my three daughters my treasures.
When the girls reached their final years at school, a neighbour, Mrs. White, began to visit more often sometimes bringing dried mushrooms or a tin of sardines. She tried her best to win me over.
I noticed she wouldnt take the hint, but didnt want to hurt her feelings. So one evening, I invited her over and said:
Which of my daughters do you like best?
She replied, Im not interested in your girls! Soon theyll leave for university and youll be alone. I love you, Harry, not your daughters!
I smiled and handed her a photograph of myself. Heres my portrait love me as much as you want, at home.
She left, portrait in hand, disappointed.
The girls went away to university, but never forgot their dad. Every weekend and during the holidays, theyd come home to help out around the house and garden.
Later, one by one, I gave my girls away at their weddings and spoke with each of their husbands, just as Alices father had spoken to me. I wanted nothing but happiness for my three princesses.
Now, all my daughters are grown with families of their own children, jobs, worries. But they never forget about me.
Whenever theres a holiday or a weekend, everyone piles into the car and drives out to the village to visit. Daughters, grandchildren, even a great-grandson the house is always full.
The year I turned eighty-one, I dreamt of Alice again.
In the dream, I stood in a field, young again, with broad shoulders and jet-black hair. Alice ran towards me in her white dress, barefoot, her hair gleaming in the sunlight as if it could outshine the day.
I stretched my arms wide, my heart thumping so hard I thought it would burst. When I embraced her, she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and softly whispered:
My darling Harry, youve done so well. You gave our girls such a happy life. I saw everything, I prayed for you each day She took my hand gently.
Come on. Now well be together forever.
Hand in hand, we walked together through thick, green grass.
All of our family came to remember me when I left this world. It was hard for my daughters to say goodbye, but they each understood that at last, I was with the woman I had loved my whole life.
This is the true story of a remarkable man a father with a capital F. My grandmother told me about him, and everyone in the village knew his kindness. Sometimes, a man chooses a life of sacrifice for his beloved children, rather than living for himself. May his memory be cherished.
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