tuesday, august 7, 2012
9:05 pm.
i heard, i heard the news. my mom made me promise not to freak out, that i would talk about it. it was hard to promise something i didn't know how i would react to.
my body went numb. and hot. my fingers were trembling. my eyes had a sheet thrown in front of them, i couldn't see.
"how?" "how?" is all i wanted to know. "how" is all i could say.
dad answered.
i bit my lip. no. that is not true, you're lying. i fought back the tears, i fought so hard, i couldn't swallow because of the sick lump in my throat. i hated that lump. i hated everything. i hated that picture above the mantel. i hated the piece of plastic i had been chewing on for the last half hour. i hated the news. i hated the way my hands looked when the color had drained out of them. crying, i managed to whimper,
"can we go back." "i just want to go back and be with everyone. i want to go the meeting... will they wait for me?"
i was two hours away from my home, two silent, dead, hours away from the meeting. i need to go. i had to.
"dad, can we just go?"
"sarah, we need to figure this out, we will leave, but you might not make it back in time for the meeting."
- my mom answered.
"ok, lets go now. lets go now."
my mom and dad talked, talked over the situation, talked about the rest of the family, who to tell, who to keep the information from. they talked about which car to take, the fastest way home. i grabbed my single bag, threw it in the car, and waited.
we drove. we drove, while my mom tried to make conversation with me, but i was crying. i felt ashamed i was crying. i didn't want to talk when i was crying, so i didn't. two hours. hating every minute waisted. waisted on bloody stop lights, on slow drivers. waisted on all the construction, on all the people cutting us off. i wanted to reach out the window, giving the world the finger, yelling, "you don't even know what's going on, you don't know what's just happened." i wanted everyone gone. i hated everything. i hated that little sound that was being made by the silent CD player. i hated the bumpy road, i hated my tears.
the car stopped. i got out and ran. i ran for her. the crowd of people walking stared, but they knew who i was after. it was almost too dark to see faces, but they were all familiar, i knew them, for i had grown up with them. i reached her, grabbing her around the neck, crying and gasping, "i just drove all the way from mid-way to be here."
she knew who i was.
we cried, holding each other, rocking back and fourth. people passing, understanding. we didn't care about the stares, because they knew our pain. they're pain, was shared and fed by our pain.
holing each other we walked. we walked to his house, the house that me, and her, and him played video games at, just last Saturday. her and me, in our sweats. but he didn't care.
the crowd of people gathered around his house, many holding hands. the ones who could, sang, "I am a child of God." tribute to him. i just sobbed. my voice seemed broken and inappropriate. she sang though, she sang to him. he was closer to her, than me.
we gathered back, at her house, and wrote letters, tender words and memories. we painted a mural. full of everything about him. groups left, and one by one the house was left still. i refused to return home, i needed and wanted to be here with her. we prayed with her family. asking God, to bless him, and his family. blessing us, with comfort.
we went down stairs, we talked and share more memories, regrets, possibilities. we shared it all. soon, it was 2 am. the time for sleep is now. we laid down, the pounding, sickening, throbbing headache took hours to leave. i had become physically ill with shock of this cruel realization.
"pray for us?" she asked.
"sure."
i prayed, my best prayer.
we laid there, every hour or so, asking the other if they were yet asleep. hours passed and sleep took place. the night was over, but the nightmare continues.
in memory of bryce.
God be with you till we meet again.
my heart is solemn and empty this day. and forever days ahead.
