Misguided Emotions

I don't even know where to start. This chokes me up every time I talk about it. 
Five weeks ago, my mother passed away due to breast cancer, and my household was in shambles when that happened. Me and my dad continuously fought and berated each other. He had a hard time at work, and I failed a bunch of assignments in some of my classes, which resulted in arguments about how I never pay attention. Life sucked at that point.
When I was seven, my mother bought me a toy that played lullabies to me, as I wasn't really sleeping well at the time. That toy was the Playskool Glo Worm. It was quite helpful, and it looked kind of cute. Like something I could hug just for the sake of needing one, even at daytime. However, out of all the lullabies that played, there was one that I didn't recognize for quite a while. It was a short eerie tune, and it sounded like something that would play in an empty church hall. 
Though I don't have the name, I finally remember a time where that tune was used.
Last week, I tried to go to sleep but I just couldn't. All I could do was stare at my patterned ceiling with squinted eyes, hoping that eventually I'll be able to fall asleep. I told my dad something that I regretted telling him that night. I told him I hated him. Despite all that he had done for me, to help me throughout all these years, I told him that to his face, all because he was in the process of grief like I was. I felt like a monster.
I suddenly woke up to a wonky little jingle coming from my closet, It instantly made me jolt awake and shiver right there. It sounded somewhat like "Bingo Was His Name-O" if I remember correctly. There was a cold sweat circling my neck. What was going on?
That's when I heard a voice come from the closet. It sounded like a woman with a hushed, yet high-pitched tone, kind of like something you'd hear in a kids' program.
"Hey, open the door... please."
I was hesitant. I sat there with my blanket wrapped around everything but my head. I wasn't scared of the dark, but the idea of something that isn't my dad speaking to me in the midst of pure silence always unnerved me.
"I'm not a monster! I will not hurt you. I'm just a little bug. Trust me, this isn't a trick."
She had quite the hypnotic voice, probably because it sounded so familiar. I hopped out of my bed and headed over to my closet, gently opening it before taking a quick scan. The only thing illuminating my closet was the Glo Worm I had when I was seven. I was confused and a little frightened. It was talking to me.
"Please pick me up. Let's talk."
It wasn't very demanding, which kind of warmed my heart a little. It felt like I was talking to the sweetest person on earth. I'd reach into my closet and hold the toy, before pulling it out and looking at it right in the eye. 
"...what's wrong? Are you okay? You look so distraught and it worries me."
I couldn't believe my eyes. The toy that lulled me to sleep seven years ago is concerned for my well-being. I thought this was a sick, weird joke at first. I had a whole mixture of emotions at that point. Should I be scared, happy, or sad? Was there a recorder or camera inside of the toy?
"I know what's going on in the living room. Someone you cared about with all your heart is gone, right? You and your father fight a lot too, I'm assuming? I understand, it's quite heartbreaking and home-shattering. It happens when that certain someone has lived with you for a long time. I've faced that same issue in the past."
I was stuttering. I wanted to talk to it, but it was just so reassuring. I was afraid that if I said anything about what happened tonight, it would stop talking to me. Like the monster I made myself out to be. I finally spoke to it.
"I... told my dad I hated him."
"Your father does everything he can to keep a roof over your head. He works morning to late afternoon, getting as much as he can in the bank to keep the house tidied up. He gets upset over your grades because even if grading in general is demotivating to someone your age, he still wants you to grow with success. He wants you to have something he couldn't get. Why do you think he works at a lumber company? Why do you think he leaves you a second lunch in the fridge when you come home?"
My eyes widened out of curiosity. How did this toy know about what kind of personal life I had?
"He doesn't try to make you follow his viewpoint either. If he did, he would be consistently trying to get you involved in politics, or his beliefs, or his interests. You wouldn't be watching football with him when he knows you aren't into it, right? I understand he can annoy you at times, that can be with anyone, but he doesn't hate you in the slightest, and you know this. If he did, you would be on the street right now. Now, ask yourself, do you really hate your father, or is grief just a puzzle piece?"
"Can you... elaborate? Please?"
"What I'm trying to say is... feelings lie. Grieving can play a part in that, and I know by experience. I'm not saying your father's emotions don't have the same affect, of course. Even grown-ups have trouble regulating them."
This made me chuckle. 
"You don't have to tell me that. I'm fourteen."
"I know, I know. Just a friendly reminder. You're no baby."
"I get that I'm not a baby anymore, but... can I still hold onto you for the night? You... really helped."
"By all means, go ahead."
I would climb back into bed and wrap my arms around the Glo Worm, a smile now curling around my face. This is the first time I've felt genuine happiness in five weeks, since my mother died. I would squeeze the toy, letting it play a song, and there it was. That unknown tune played once again. However, after a few seconds of hearing it, my mind suddenly remembered. 
It was the song that played during my mother's funeral. I felt tears well up in my eyes at that moment. I hugged the toy tightly, thankful for the talk we had as I repeated the melody in my head that night. I knew just what to do the next day.
It's been a week since this happened. I talked things out with my father, and I told him how much I loved him. I did what I could to help him out with cleaning the house during the weekend, and I spent as much time with him as I could when he came home from work, balancing things out with stuff I enjoy doing. He even took me out to eat at a Mexican restaurant this Sunday and bought me some dessert. I may not know whose voice that belonged to, but what she said sure as hell hit my heart like a truck.
Whoever you are, thank you.
Category:Toys
Category:Feelspasta
Category:Music
Category:Death
Category:Lafawnda's Reading Hour
Category:Baby