A work of fiction in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Legacy.

“I’m dying.”

“We all are.”

“I’m not trying to be philosophical, I really mean it when I say that I am dying.”

“I was not being philosophical either.”

“Can you, please, for once, be serious?”

“Unbeknownst to most people, I am actually a very serious person.”

“Oh for the love of God.”

“What are you trying to say? If you really are dying, you might want to just get to the point of everything.”

“I’m dying, and before I get to the end of dying, which is death in itself, I want to say something to you.”

“If it’s an apology, save it. I’m not taking any apology tonight. Actually, I’m not taking any apology, ever, if it’s coming from you.”

“Why? I have to give you an apology. I have to at least say sorry before I go.”

“For what? For all the wrongdoings that you’ve done to me? To the lot of us? Or just because you expect that you’ll get an easy exit? Knowing that we would all forgive you? That’s a bit selfish, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not surprising for me to see you be all selfish, even on your dying last breath, but this is a bit too much to ask, right?”

“Can’t you just give a nice and smooth exit for an old man like me?”

“So, if you’re actually dying years ago, before you’re an old man like you are today, you would not have offered an apology? You wouldn’t mind leaving this life, knowing that none of us had forgave you or something?”

“Must you be this mean to me?”

“Oh please, you’re not seriously telling me that I’m the mean one here, are you? Look around you. Where’s the rest of your sons? You disown your first son, you literally refuse to know your third son, wait, scratch  that, you literally refuse to know me, your third son is the one who refuse to know you.”

“Oh yeah? And whose fault is that? You! Your fault! You made my son hate me.”

“No, I didn’t. You refuse to know me, and in that process, you pushed your other son away. We were brothers, Dad, just because you hate me, you can’t condemn your other son.”

“Brothers? Are you kidding me? Look at you and your sad excuse of make up! No son of mine dress as a girl!”

“Maybe that’s why I am not your son, and don’t say it, Dad. I am not your daughter either. I’m just a regular human being, one of the only three other human beings whom you have called, and yet the other two won’t show up. Forget it, what are we doing? Where are we going with this? If you’re going to go, then just go, Dad.”

“You don’t want my apology, then fine, I wont offer you an apology. I would, however, say that I am sorry. I’m sorry for not wanting to get to know you, or at least your reason or what you’re going through. I’m sorry I refuse to understand the mental struggle of your brother. And I’m sorry I was so stubborn that I wont open myself for all of you. I’m not looking for forgiveness; I just want to say sorry, for all three of you and I want to say sorry for how I have lived my life. I wished I had better things to give you all, other than my ego and bitterness.”

“I can’t say for the others, but I want you to know I felt nothing now, for all the things you’ve said and done. I can’t say I have forgiven you, and I know that forgiveness is not what you seek, but I probably will get there.”

“Thank you. Take care of each other. You are all what you each have. I’m very sorry for everything, but, most of all, I am sorry that my horrible example of being a parent all my life with all three of you is the only legacy I have left for you all.”

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