Page 12 - Homestead By Ann Newhouse

A long time had passed since my mother had died and my father’s health had deteriorated further. He hardly went outside and slept most days. I did all the toiling to keep the home fires burning, and food on the table. Every morning I would cook breakfast and serve him, most times he hardly ate anything. Last thing at night I would make supper and bid him good night. I would go to my room and wait to hopefully hear him breathe his last, as I listened to him moan in pain. It may sound cruel, but I remembered my mother’s words, what goes around comes around. My father was now suffering for the wrongs he had done to others. Speaking to her after breakfast, standing over her grave, I told her I felt no pity for his pain, but I knew she would not approve.
I could hear her cry “Ned O’ Neil, he is your father!”
I would think back to when she was ill and cried out in pain. He would drink his whiskey to drown out her cries. He would not give up the drink, even when it meant he could have afforded stronger pain relief for her. I would tell her, that when he died, I would go and make a new life for myself. I really didn’t want to leave my mother alone in her resting place, but it was her wish for me to make a fresh start somewhere else.
Dan O’ Neil, my father, was fast losing the fight to remain living. He had been in great pain for a few days. I wanted to ignore it, but I would remember my mother’s wise words and I would give him strong whiskey, as his medication, every hour. This seemed to dull his pain and gave him some peace. It is more than he had done for my mother, in her last days of suffering.
He finally passed at the end of the Spring. I felt no reason to mourn him. I wrapped him tightly in a blanket, then I laid him on his bed, closed and locked the door, and buried the key outside. I went to town for the last time and sold the rest of our livestock, along with the old mare and rickety trap. I then made my way back to the shack which gave me time to contemplate my future. I would first retrieve my mother’s secret bag.
Not knowing what it contained, I was afraid to open it, for fear my father’s spirit was still hovering and would curse my mother for helping me. I had ignored it, until that moment.
I found the courage to look inside and I saw only a large packet of official looking papers. I couldn’t read very well, just enough to get by, so I knew I may not fully understand what was written. I decided to leave them be for another time and went about collecting the few meagre items I possessed. I packed two shirts, a selection of underwear and socks, a couple pair of jeans, two t- shirts, and a hat. I was wearing the only pair of strong boots I possessed. I then went about my search for a secret stash of money I knew my father had hidden. I expected it to be only a few dollars, but I needed all the money I could get. I was going on a journey into the unknown. I had