Father died two days ago. He died in his sleep and the cause was not difficult to determine. During the past few moons his eyes and skin had grown yellow and his body was swollen. It was the Yellow Death, common among those who drink with abundance.
As his friends are drunkards and I myself have no friends I had to actually hire men to carry his coffin to the local cemetery. An unfortunate cost. I was the only person to honor his passing with my presence... Likely because I did not bother to invite anyone else.
Now he lies six feet under and the hungry maggots are making their plans how to get through the coffin that cost me thirty silvers. Thirty silvers spent for a futile tradition.
I thought I'd feel more relieved after his death. I had wished for it as long as I can remember. He was a daily burden. He peed, shat and vomited around in his worst days and in his better days he tried to treat people in a hazy state, scaring children and women away, making false conclusions, handing out wrong potions and ointments. Heck he even accidentally killed Burke Haymoor and got an innocent man jailed for his crime.
I will never forgive him for being the worst father and worst healer Bree had to offer, but I also find no joy in his death. The silence he left behind is more terrifying than I would have assumed. He was a horrible man, but I looked after him and there was some meaning in that, I suppose. Some meaning I failed to see before his death, but I do find it in this silence now.
I think I will write a small tome about The Yellow Death to honor his death. I feel he always wished he would be more useful than he was. Perhaps he was in the end most useful in his death, providing very detailed notes about the stages of this disease.
Related to father's most horrible failure, Ethan Bloom has visited a few times. First with hostile intentions, asking to see details related to Burke Haymoor's death. He suspects we made a mistake in his treatment. Although of course I did not write father's mistake down on the official description of his passing. As Ethan found nothing in the official documents he sent his friend to question me. I considered this woman my friend and yet she took the side of Ethan in his suspicion. I shall not consider her my friend anymore.
Ethan himself returned as he had managed to cut his thumb. I treated him and he paid for it. I do not know why he chose to linger after the payment with his smiles and jests. When I sent him away he stated he just liked bugging me. I met him in the Pony after father's burial. He said my hair looked nice as I had tied it up. I guess it looked nice, but I do not know why he said it. I enjoyed the most of our conversation, but I couldn't help but to think that he was flirting with me to befriend me. Hoping that I would in some drunken moment reveal the truth about Burke's death. I'm not an idiot and shall not fall for such games.
Although some things he said left me thinking...That maybe I have distanced myself too much of the people of these villages. After father's passing I have not been able to sleep. I think I am afraid of this newfound loneliness. I am afraid of this empty house.
I've found myself considering of traveling to the homes of my patients who have long-term sickness, to see to their well-being on my own accord and for free. It is an irrational thought, I know. I just have this strange feeling it would ease with this void father has left behind. If I just stay alone in this house, I will lose my mind. So perhaps it is not irrational, it will be not me helping those people for free, it will be them helping me for free. Helping me to find meaning again.
