The Everlasting Tradition 15-19

The piece is for anyone that has lost someone special in their life. Dying is a natural thing. The bones and flesh will erode and become part of the soil, but memories will forever live on.

I love carnivals. Eating a slice of apple pie and watching the children jubilantly run up to their parent’s, asking for another ticket for a ride, reminded me of the many summers I spent with my father. My clear recollections of my father always brightened my mood. He died a few years ago at the age of 58 due to a massive heart attack. The summer before his death was the last time we went to the carnival. It was like an annual tradition for us. My mother was never excited about seeing clowns or experiencing terrifying rides, so it was just the two of us.


We would first start off by buying a roll of tickets, big enough to fit around my small wrist. Then we would hop on any ride that caught our attention. After that we would play games and I would always win more prizes than him. Going back to the carnival alone made me sad, but also made me happy. There I was able to reminisce on the wonderful and amazing father I was lucky enough to have. His joyful laughter and warm personality always attracted people to his company. Sometimes when I was sad or hurt, he would by me a slice of apple pie to make me feel better. After the first few times, it became as much of a tradition as the carnival itself.


Now I stand there amongst the many unfamiliar faces, eating my usual slice of pie. Occasionally I would get unwelcoming glares from people and I would know exactly what they are thinking. What is this lady doing here all alone? Why isn’t she with anyone? The carnival had become a place for me and my father to go and enjoy ourselves. I would feel wrong to bring someone else and change the tradition. Maybe one day when I get married, settle down and have a child of my own I’ll bring them to the carnival, but for now I can only go with the memories of my father close at heart.