Right when we were about to pass a christian bookstore, my father paused his walk, and asked me,
'I am thinking about buying you a decorative crucifix... What say you?'
I did some kind of astonished and bewildered expression on my face, before I replied,
'Huh? For what?'
'You know, to be hung on your room's wall, on the wall beneath the door, perhaps?'
I was not sure how to respond this. I did not see this coming and was not that pleasant when the idea of doing so being represented. I thought of my preference of not being pretty much attached with religious symbolism, hence I replied,
'I guess, there will be no need for me to buy such thing.' I smirked as if I perceive the idea was pretty silly.
'Oh, okay then.' My father didn't change his countenance.
We then continued our walk. After awhile, there's some kind of distracting feeling that seemed to worsen each seconds. I couldn't help but wonder, have my spiritual condition been that severe, that I refuse to be related of any religious symbolism? And most of all... I did feel really bad for rejecting my father's offer.
After few minutes of reconsideration, I told him,
'Pa, I changed my mind. Let's go buy the crucifix.'
He looked at me with kind of look I couldn't seem to interpret.
'You're weird.'
Even so, we did go back to the christian store and buy the crucifix. I felt relieved.
* * *
Moments ago I was texting with my father. He asked me if I have put the crux on the wall.
'Not yet, I still put it on my desk,' I typed.
Lest that he might think I am not happy of the crucifix's being in my room, I despised myself for haven't tried to hang it on the wall using sellotape. So I did that before my father replied any of my texts.
I should have known it wouldn't be possible that the sellotape was enough to keep the crux being attached to the wall. I should have. Even until know I keep cursing myself why haven't I thought of that.... because the moment I stepped down the chair and took distance from the wall to see if the height was enough, the crux slipped down and broke into pieces.
My heart seemed to sink.
I tangled with confusion for moment, engrossed with grief, when my mobile phone made a sound. Dad had replied my text.
'Ask the landlady to seek for help to nail the crux onto the wall'
Yeah, why hadn't I thought of that. Too little too late.
I immediately told my father regarding the misfortune, indeed. Well... I couldn't know how his real feeling was, seeing the fact that conversation in texts seem to be expressionless. He said it was okay, he's going to buy a new one. I wailed about how I adore the appearance of this one, and he ensured me that he is going to buy the exact same crux. I apologised him numerous times, felt really sorry for being unappreciative of his giving, and he said it's alright. His replies only made me feel guilty even more.
Regardless my clumsiness that seems to prove otherwise, I believe that each gifts has its personal value themselves, that though the gift was chosen from (perhaps) lots of similar ones, it was different. Replacement of broken gifts does not really work as 'replacement'. Each gifts has its own story, that's what I perceive. That's what makes me grieve even more. Though my father is going to buy a new one, it was not going to be the same.
'I guess, there will be no need for me to buy such thing.'
I feel like I'm being punished by the universe.
