Separation

The bright yellow candle flame flickered in its place, casting feeble rays if warmth upon the dirty walls of the underground cave, luminating the musty dust particles in the air… My heart palpitated in anxiety as seconds passed with mounting fear. Tom had never been this long out before.

Three years. Three long bitter years had I not stepped out of this cavern once, fearing that if I were to be seen by the dreaded Kempeitais, never will I ever have the chance to live the day, to feel the warmth of the bright sunlight wash over my face again.

War had turned our once beautiful and peaceful homeland into a battlefield, strewn with debris and corpses. The fighting had torn families apart and mine was of no exception. A happy family of four that had lived quietly in a small hut in Jurong was now forced to abandoned their home and hide for survival. My son, a brave fourteen-year-old child, was sacrificed in his bid to save the rest of the family. When the Japanese police had tried to capture us, he caused a diversion to go after him instead, a memory that always manages to bring heart-wrenching tears to my eyes.

Fidgeting nervously in my seat, my mind was forced to race through all the possible theories that could have held up my husband, each more dreadful and daunting than the last. He had tried to sneak out and gather food before, but never taking as long as this before.

“Mummy… where is daddy? I wonder what took him so long…” enquired my fifteen-year-old daughter, Sarah. Her face was a picture of worry against the dimly lit walls. I paused in my thoughts and told myself to relax. It seemed crucial to not stir up the fear that was slowly crawling into our hearts.

Just then, as if in response, a loud crunching sound was heard. Tom appeared in the doorway, clutching his ribs in apparent pain. Such a powerful wave of relief had swept though me that, for a moment, I felt light-headed. Without further ado, Sarah and I rushed forward to his aid.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped at a better look at Tom. The warm glow that had flared inside me at the relief of his return was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of my stomach. Tom was puckered up in pain and his face was drained of all colour. There was a gaping puncture wound at his sides and blood was trickling down fast, leaving a trail of bloody footprints and a dark pool where he rested. A little cry of horror slipped through Sarah before she could stop herself at the sight of her father. Tom collapsed into my arms. Warm blood seeped into my clothing.

“Honey… I’m so glad I could make it back… to see you again. The Japanese soldiers are fighting a losing battle. The war is won… we don’t have to … hide anymore… I’m sorry… I don’t think I have … much time… left…” Tom murmured. Streams of tears started to pour from my eyes. I had imagined this scenario, yet I was not prepared for the molten wave of dread and panic that seemed to burst through my stomach at the sound of the growing weak rasp of his voice.

With the last ounce of strength he possessed, Tom whispered into my ears “Live… well… ”

A feeling of emptiness gripped my heart as his hand slipped from my embrace...
Eyes blurred with tears, I understood perfectly. It was time to let go.

By Kathy Kitty