A Bundle of Stars

I am dead.

No, not that "Oh no save us it's a ghost" kind of dead.

I'm dead to the world, to my friends, and to myself.

But not to everyone, though.

And the funny thing is…I don't really mind. There was nothing left for me in life anyway.
But I often find myself wondering, that if things didn't happen the way they did, maybe everything would have been different. Maybe I could have reached out and brushed my hands against the stars. Maybe I could have still been able to hear the songs and stories of the night sky.

And maybe my spirit would still be alive.

--
"Daddy! Higher!"

"But the swing won't go higher, honey."

"But I want to touch the stars, Daddy."

"Honey, you can use your imagination to do that."

"But I don't want to imagine it. I want it to be real."

"Honey-"

"Please, Daddy. Can't you least try?"

"Alright. Anything for you."

--
We tried. We really did.

But the stars remained out of our grasp, twirling out and into the night.

After each failed attempt, I'd try to cheer her up, with things like candies and dolls. But she never completely brightened until we would go out and try again. There was always something in her eyes that twinkled whenever she saw those tiny lights illuminating the sky.

--
He promised me, on that day. He told me, "We'll see the stars together, and you'll be able to touch them and play with them."

"Can we keep a few?"

"Of course. I'll tie some up for you, and you can keep them in a bundle. But watch out. If you untie them, they might run away!" he said, poking me in the side.

She giggled, and got back on the swing. "Daddy, push me high," she said. "The stars are singing tonight."

--
It's funny, how people see things. According to them, I am alive, and you're the one who is dead.

They're wrong.

Do you remember how when I was young, you'd tell me to believe in my own ideals, and to not listen to anyone who told me I was wrong? I would just say "Okay" and not think anything else of it.

But you knew, didn't you? You knew that this would happen. But you didn't try to change anything, you just gave me advice and left. Just like that. I think about that all the time, you know. What did you really mean when you told me that the stars might run away if I untied them?

I remember that as clear as the midnight sky I used to gaze at from my window.
You promised me.

But I died before you could fulfill that promise.

--
"Do you see that star up there? That's the North Star. A long time ago, people used that star to guide them to where they wanted to go. 'Just follow the North Star,' they said."

"Who were they? And where did they want to go?"

"Curious as always, I see. Well, they wanted to go north. There were people in the South that didn't like them."

"But who were they, Daddy?"

"They were people. Just like you and me. They breathed the same air as us and walked on the same land. And they saw the same stars we're seeing today."

"But Mommy said that some stars move away from us."

"Well, she's right. But all stars move, honey. They're like the people, too. They move from one place to the next, trying to find a place that they'll like."

"But that means we won't get to see them anymore."

"Don't worry, honey. New stars will move towards us. And maybe, somewhere on the other side of the universe, someone will get to see our stars. Imagine that. Maybe the North Star will travel to where they are, and lead them to someplace else, just like it did here. But remember this, honey. Even though they might look different, and are from very far away, they are people-just like us."

--
I remember how you asked me if the people on the other side of the universe knew where the stars came from.

"Of course," I told you. "The stars carry with them stories of their travels."

And you asked me how the stars told their stories.

"We can track their paths," I said. "Using telescopes, we can tell where they came from."

"But can't they speak for themselves?" you asked me.

"They can. We just haven't taken the time to listen."

After I had said that, you told me about all the times you wanted to speak to them, but never got a chance to. That twinkle in your eyes returned as you recounted the experiences.

"The stars were singing on that night, Daddy," you told me. "But I didn't know what they were saying. I don't think it mattered, anyway. I felt like they understood me."

"They do understand."

"Daddy, can you take me to the swings just one last time? I want to catch the stars, and tie them in a bundle, like you said."

"Honey, you know I haven't been feeling well lately-"

"You promised," you said in a ghostly whisper. "You said that we'd see the stars. Together."

"Alright. Anything for you," I said as I picked you up and walked to the swings, under a veil of darkness that blanketed my every step.

--
"Mommy said that you were sick."

"I am, but don't worry, honey. I'll be better soon."

"I made you a card, Daddy. Take it."

"Wow, you made this for me? That's… really nice of you."

"I drew us, with the stars. See? We're holding some of them. And I drew the Earth and the planet on the other side of the universe. The North Star is in the middle, so we can all see it."

"That means a lot to me, honey. I'll be sure to keep it with me. Thank you."

--
And you did keep it with you. But not for long.

After that day, something just… changed.

You didn't talk about the stars with me anymore. And I felt, that with each passing day, the stars grew quieter and quieter.

Until I only heard silence.

I couldn't hear any more of their stories. And by then, I couldn't hear any of yours, either.

But you're still telling them, right Dad? You're with the stars now, traveling in hopes of finding a place where you would like to be. And you carry with you stories of your travels, while looking for someone who will listen.

Have you gone to that planet on the other side of the universe, yet? Have you found someone like the old me, someone who could listen and hear the words to your songs?

I know that you are still alive. You're just not here, with me. Or rather, I'm not there, with you.

But I have something to ask you, Dad.

Are you watching me from the night sky?

Are you one of those new stars that came here from far away?

Are you guiding me, like the North Star that guided those people north so many years ago?

Am I dead to you, too?

--
I gripped the ropes tightly in my hands, concentrating on the burn to numb my thoughts. I pushed off with my feet and soared high up into the night. I could feel the smooth, cold black getting closer to me every time I lifted my face up at the crest of my swing. But every time, I fell back onto Earth, gravity seizing my body and hurling it back down.  I needed to fly higher. I wanted to soar as far away from today as possible.

I felt cool air furiously storming onto my face. I had already gone higher than I ever had before, even when I had the help of my father.

Ah. My father. But he was not here and my spirit had died along with his body. Where was my spirit now? Was it with him? I didn't know, but it didn't matter. What mattered now was the swing, the night, and the stars.

The North Star shone proudly in front of me, guiding me, coaxing my body upwards. I closed my eyes as I felt myself take off.

And before I once again descended and became ingrained into the reality of Earth, I saw for the last time my father, smiling gently with a bundle of stars in his hand, with a little string tied up around the million tiny lights.