Turns out, that was the real question.
From one heartbeat to the next, all my hurt and sadness over Babbo’s actions morphed into blinding rage. Furious. My hands shook. My breathing stuttered.
What man would allow his supposedly beloved little girl to witness his own suicide? How were those the actions of a caring individual?!
I ignored the tiny voice that whispered perhaps Babbo hadn’t understood. That his mind had been diseased and unable to understand what he was doing.
I didn’t care.
Babbo should have loved me more.
Dimly, I recognized I was sobbing. Heartbroken, gut-wrenching sobs. Like some dramatically pathetic heroine in a Nicholas Sparks movie.
Gah. Ihatedme and all my daddy issues. How could he have messed me up like this?
I curled my knees into my chest and let it all out. Messy. Chaotic. Tears and rain merging into one.
Crack. Boom.
Lightning streaked across the sky. Thunder rumbled the ground under my hands.
A tiny squeak had me turning my head. Looking down, I noted a small bird hunkered under one of the tumbled stones, body shaking as it weathered the storm. Its beady eyes met mine.
Of course. Of any bird I would see in a moment like this, it would be a sparrow.
Sparrow.Passero.
A traditional diminutive for children.
Mia passerotta.My little sparrow. My father’s nickname for me. I had always been Babbo’s little sparrow.
Was that all I was to him in the end? A brown, insignificant, common bird?
No one ever stopped to watch a sparrow in flight. No one gasped and went for the binoculars or told their spouse when they got home, ‘You’ll never believe it! I saw asparrowtoday.’
Sparrows were small nothings. Unimportant. Was that how Babbo saw me?
Rain continued to fall as I sobbed. Some part of me noted that I was shaking. That my hand could barely close into a fist. That my legs were tingly and asleep.
Crying left me . . . empty.
Numb.
My mind drained of all thought. I had nothing left to give. But I couldn’t leave this garden. It seemed like my personal ground zero.
Wasn’t this feeling supposed to be accompanied by some grand revelation? A hallelujah moment where everything was made clear and I found my personal solution? Catharsis in action?
I had nothing.
Crack. Boom. Rumble.
Wind tore through the countryside, turning the rain sideways, dragging my soaked hair across my lips.
Crack.
Lightning snaked from cloud to cloud. A ribbon of silver lace scattering across the sky.
Someone would be hurt tonight. Pain. Terror.
