Task #1
A/N: okay, so I took a lot of creative freedom on what the task actually was and its more about a thing from his past that he doesn't remember and that's why it still effects him. It'll make sense after you actually read it I promise.
TW: itty bitty mention of death
13 January, 1998
Oliver's little fingers wrap tight around his father's larger ones for stability while he toddles around the airport. He doesn't really need the support anymore, he can walk perfectly well on his own on flat surfaces, but Oliver likes it and by the time they see each other again, Oliver will probably be far too old to be bothered holding hands just to walk. So they soak it up while they can, even if Oliver's too young to understand what's going on.
A few yards away, his mother stands anxiously talking with her parents, who offered to watch Oliver while they were on their mission trip. Six weeks in South Africa helping to build a well for a small village, and likely do a bit of preaching along. the way. For a long while they were conflicted about leaving their baby for so long, but were eventually persuaded into going. "Do it while he's young, it's harder to find time when they're older." So off they would go, along with a handful of other members of the congregation.
Fifteen minutes until the plane boarded, and the three of them- Oliver and both his parents- now sat quietly at the far end of the gate for their last few minutes they would have together for the next month and a half. His parents particularly trying to memorize every little thing about their son that couldn't be captured in photographs until the last possible second when they had to hurry onto the plane. Leaving Oliver waving cheerfully from his grandmother's arms behind them.
5 February, 1999
The first call comes in from the mission leader, giving the same speech he gives to half the families on those on the trip. Some of the missionaries fell ill, from what there was no clear answer, and were being treated by local doctors until they were well enough to fly home.
Oliver was too young to understand what exactly his grandparents were discussing in hushed voices after they got off the phone.
The next few days are full of collect calls to and from South Africa, constantly checking up on loved ones and their health. On good days, Oliver would be allowed to talk to his mom and dad on the phone for short periods of time. On the bad days, he would throw a fit at not being allowed until he finally had to be taken and put in his crib. "Momma and Daddy are sick. They need their rest. You can talk to them tomorrow."
19 February, 1999
It's not the phone ringing at 4 in the morning that wakes Oliver up, but the crying from down the hall. It's only natural that he joins in, until his grandmother finally comes in, face blotchy and tear stained, to rock him back to sleep. She's being more affectionate than usual,but Oliver certainly doesn't mind. Just snuggles up close and tries to ignore the occasional sniffles coming from his grandma until he finally falls asleep.
It's decided that they don't try and explain what happened to Oliver. He's too young, not even two, to try and understand the concept of death, or that his parents wouldn't be coming back. He's kept home from the funeral with a babysitter, and suddenly they're never mentioned again. He may have been too young to understand what was going on, but he certainly noticed that he never was able to talk to his mom and dad anymore. Now, there were no explanations about why he couldn't talk to them. He just couldn't. Eventually, after months of back and forth, he must have stopped asking altogether, because he'd started to forget them anyway.
23 May, 2002
Oliver's chasing some of the other kids through the churchyard after Mass while the adults chat. Three years later, and he's starting to ask questions again. It started after he started kindergarten, innocent questions like "Where'd my mommy and daddy go?" and "How come the other kids don't live with they're grandma and grandpa?", that were quickly shut down. His parents are never spoken of, and he hasn't as much as seen a picture of them in years. All he has is a hazy assumption that they must be somewhere. If only someone would tell him where.He stops short when he runs past his grandmother talking to a younger woman when he hears his name.
"...It's so sad poor Oliver lost them so young," the lady sighs. "Does he know how it happened yet? Or do you still think he's too little?"
"Know how what happened?" Oliver yells, startling both the lady and his grandma, and catching the attention of his grandpa.
"Oliver Paul! What have I told you about eavesdropping?" His grandpa asks, quickly walking towards him.
"I wasn't eves-dropping. I just heard 'em talking." Oliver argues, but instead of getting a response, he's picked up and taken back to the car to be properly reprimanded in private.
He never does get an answer, and he never overhears a conversation of the sort again.
