One Hundred Days later

I cant be contented with yesterdays glory
I cant live on promises winter to spring
Today is my moment, now is my story
Ill laugh and Ill cry and Ill sing

Father closed his eyes for the last time in early September.

A hundred days on, and I still find myself struggling to come to grips with lies, deceit and betrayal in the circle of people I least expected - Father's favourite son, his wife, his siblings.

For a hundred days, several ugly scenes kept replaying in a loop in my mind. I listened to platitudes about forgiveness and understanding: I heard nothing even vaguely close to an admission of wrong-doing. 

For a hundred days, I searched my soul for an answer as to where and how to go from here.

I know now. 

I will never forget the fact that these people committed an act of extreme cruelty - they denied a dying man his last wish which was to go home. The son had larcenous intents, the wife was selfish and did not want to be inconvenienced with a dying husband, and the siblings were acting out long-held resentment against Father. 

Time will never soften the pain I felt when I realised too late that I was blind-sided by trickery and treachery. 

This much I know: if the opportunity ever comes that I can hurt this son, wife and siblings as much as they have hurt Father, I will have no hesitation to act upon it.

Until then, these people cease to exist any more for me.