A ROOM FULL OF LOVE Essays - Holocaust Literature, Night

A ROOM FULL OF LOVE' Essays - Holocaust Literature, Night A ROOM FULL OF LOVE' He was a great man. I wiped my eyes as I saw my beloved father's casket being lowered to the ground 6 feet below the ground that I stood on. The only family I had left, the only man whom I have ever loved is dead and gone. The tightening of my chest made it impossible for me to breathe - not that I wanted to breathe anymore. Later that night, I stood outside my father's room. My fingers lingered around the door knob, with a deep shaky breathe I opened it. As I flicked on the light switch, the chandelier that sloped on the ceiling bathed the room in bright golden light. The first thing that hit me was the earthy masculine scent of my father, it seemed as though he was still sitting right here in his armchair reading the newspaper with his reading glasses on. My knees felt wobbly as I walked towards his king size bed , the grey linen bedding reminding me of those lonely nights I had come up to sleep with him. As I sat on the unmade bed, my gaze fell on to the photo frame that sat on his bed side table-it was a picture of me and him on my graduation, his arms were around my shoulder and he had flashed the camera a toothy grin where his face wore a look of pride and joy. My trembling fingers passed through all the books that he had read, it was all neatly arranged in the wooden book shelf that stood opposite to the bed. Next to it stood the black leather coach, the very couch that my father and I would sit to watch to those late night baseball matches. As I sat on the couch, the memories came in like a whirlwind. I got up to open his wardrobe, where all this polo shirts were hung along with his office pants and coats which were all ironed to perfection, he would always dress up as he used to say "walk in style as your personality isn't the first thing the people notice." The wooden cabinet that laid next to it contained his most wanted and obsessed possession, his cigars. Even though that smell of smoke had once annoyed me - now it's like i need to breathe it in as it makes me feel like my dad's with me. On top of the cabinet, a painting that was very familiar to my eyes was hung on the cream wall , it was a picture of garden which was embedded with bright colored flowers -it was the last painting my mother had painted and my father had cherished it till his very last breathe. Next to it was a large framed picture of my mother's and father's wedding picture, where my mother was holding her bouquet and wearing the most beautiful smile on her face while my father looked at her with a look love. I looked around again at everything, a room filled with so much love, a room that will forever contain love. With a last glance I turned around and shut the door.