Fifty Seconds

Fifty Seconds          
In only fifty seconds, my life changed forever; for the worse. One act permanently changed my life, and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. It was a very selfish act. It was on July 7th 2005, only two excruciating long days ago.          

My name is Naomi Lillian Paige. I am 17 and I live, well, lived in a quaint, peaceful town on the outskirts of London. On a very rainy, gloomy day, one of the two treasures I value most, family and friends, were taken away from me. My mum and dad, and many other parents and Londoners were killed in a series of bomb attacks on London’s transportation system. Motivated by Britain’s involvement in the Iraq war, the attacks were carried out by British Islamist extremists.          

The tragedy felt like a bad dream, except that it wasn’t. It was in fact, something I wish were only a figment of my imagination. But it wasn’t, nor will it ever be. I realized that it really didn’t matter what I felt like, and that nothing was going to miraculously happen. This loss was and is the reality of my new life. It will never, ever be the same. My life is completely different, and I, in some ways, have completely changed. I no longer cared about anything; I didn’t even care if I was alive.

***

         
For some reason, I had stayed home that morning. I was tired and school just didn’t feel right. So I stayed home and ignored the calls from the school. I tried calling mum and dad to let them know I was home, but nether answer. I guessed they were both in a meeting. They were lawyers and worked at a big law firm. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be in meetings with clients so I figured they would call back later, when they were less occupied.          

It was about noon, or shortly after when I was watching cartoons on TV. All of a sudden, my aunt walks in through the front door crying. She didn’t knock like she usually did so I knew something was not right.          

“What’s wrong?” I asked panicked.          

She doesn’t say anything. She comes and sits beside me on the couch and takes the remote from my hand. She switches to the news channel and all I saw was “Bombing attacks on the London transportation system this morning.” The news reporter continues but I was no longer listening. All noise around me faded. I could faintly hear the news reporter still talking and my aunt beside me trying to comfort me. What happened sunk in and it was at the moment that I realized my parents were dead.

***

         

‘How could this have happened to me? Did I do something wrong?’ Threatening to spill over my eyes, I swallowed back my tears. Crying felt like all I was doing these days. I let the guilt swallow me a little. What if I had awaken and talked to them? Or what if I ask mum to call the school? Or what if… All these what ifs floated in my mind. I could have made them a few minutes late and they would have missed the first tube and would be standing here right now. Only if.          

I was sitting on the bed in the guest room at my aunt’s house. Since I had nowhere else to go, I was moved here. She moved me into the city. It was noisy and smelly and there were people everywhere. Where I lived in before, I could barely see my neighbors’ house. Now, I just had to look out my window and I could see the neighbors’ living room. There is absolutely no privacy what so ever.          

I miss my old life terribly. I started to cry again when I thought of how everything used to be. My parents were truly the best. Although I did complain about them sometimes, like every normal teenager does, they didn’t deserve this! No one did. I could picture my mum’s smile, warm and inviting that could change my mood in an instant. And my father’s hugs that were so comforting. I remember when my mum got stressed over the little things, and my father’s talent to light up any room, I realized how much I truly was going to miss them. They were everything to me.          

I just sat on the bed and longed for my mum’s smile or a bear hug from my father. I looked over and saw my chest. I had asked my uncle to bring it as it contained many precious items. I had also brought a suitcase filled with some of my clothing, personal items and anything I could grab. Everything I owned reminded me of them. The clothes they bought me, the gifts they had given me, and the pictures of them. Everything around me had something, one way or another, to do with them.
         
I went and sat in front of the chest. I looked at it and took a deep breath. I opened it and saw my favorite teddy bear. My parents bought Wellington for me when I was at the hospital. He was my first teddy and even though he looks awfully ratty, I just can’t come to throw him away. I put him aside and grabbed a photo album. I started looking at the pictures. There was a picture of both my parents holding me, just a tiny baby swaddled in my blanket at the hospital. Another one of just me and mum; she was kissing me on the cheek. I must have only been three years old. There were countless pictures of Christmas. Me opening my presents, wearing our Christmas hats, me with my stocking... More pictures of me as a baby, to pictures of me at my graduation last April. My parents were so proud of me. They couldn’t stop showing my graduation picture in my gown with my diploma standing in between them. They had shown it to so many people that the edges were starting to fray and the picture had creases. I carefully put the picture back in the album in fear that I would ruin it and never be able to look at it again. I put the album back in the chest and closed the lid. I just sat there, not knowing what to do. I have cried so much that I don’t even know if I had the energy or the tears left to cry again. I just sat there blankly starring at the wall.          

Today was the day, the day to say my final goodbyes and get closure. I just want this whole nightmare to be over. Here I was, standing at the funeral parlor. I was sitting on a chair and over in the corner was a door. The door was slightly ajar and I could hear the funeral director instructing his employees to roll both caskets out.          

I look to my right and focus on the clock. It is 9:57 am. The clock is ticking and time slowly passes by. I hear people come in and people come up to me and give me their condolences. I just nod. I am not really listening but everyone keeps telling me how sorry they are, and how great my parents were. I can only listen to so many if there is anything I can do or I know you are going through a hard time right now. Just shut up! I know they all mean well, but I just can’t listen to it anymore. My mum’s coworker Julia is talking to me but I just can’t focus on what she is saying. My mind is just going in circles and I shut my eyes and filter out all the noise. It is like it is just me in an empty room. I look over to the clock and it is 11:02. I’ve been sitting here for an hour. It feels like five, but it’s only been one. I realized how long this day is going to be. I cut Julia off to excuse myself and go and get some water. I feel like everyone has their eyes on me. Why can’t they just leave me be? I grab a glass of water and go sit in another corner. Maybe people will leave me alone.          

The clock ticks and ticks and after what seems like forever, it is 3:30 pm. The visitation was finally over and it is time for the burial. Everyone slowly left the funeral parlor while my aunt and I stayed back. It was time to close the caskets. If you ever had to do this before, you know how hard it is. This is the last time I will ever be able to see them. I walk over to my dad’s casket and tell him I love him and he will always be in my heart. I can’t help but cry. I walk over to mum and tell her I love her and she will always be in my heart as well. I backup crying and I nod to the funeral director. He walks over to my father’s casket and takes off his wedding band. He then moves to my mother and takes her wedding band as well. But he also takes her locket necklace and walks towards me.          

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He quietly says as he hands her the wedding bands and necklace.          

“Thank you,” I say as I weep.          

I take my mum’s and father’s wedding bands and string them through the necklace. I hold on tight for a moment and squeeze before I put them on the necklace. I place it around my neck. That way, I will always have a piece of both of them close to my heart. I back away sobbing and my aunt put her arm around me and tells me everything is going to be ok. I know she is trying to be strong for me, but I could tell she was having a hard time too. I nod and the funeral director puts the cloth over their faces and closes their caskets one at a time. I just stand there and listen as my aunt begins to cry as well. The funeral director hands us a box of tissues and his assistants come to load the caskets into the car.          

The car ride to the burial site was a short ride filled with terrible emotions, emotions that I shouldn’t have to feel at this age. All the sadness, angst and nostalgia are overwhelming me. It is a silent ride and I have to prepare myself to make a speech. I have to be strong and try and be able to do this. I vowed I wouldn’t cry until after the speech. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I knew it would just come to me. It always does.          

We arrived and I got out the car and walked towards the crowd. The priest motioned me to come stand beside him. As the priest said the prayers, I looked around at everyone’s faces. All my parents’ friends and coworkers were here. So many people dressed in black, the color of mourning, filled with sorrow. All their faces were the same- blank.          

The priest said his final words and it was my chance to say a few as well.          

“My parents are among us right now, smiling. They would be so happy to know that so many people came, and would be happy to see how many people loved them. I believe that God has accepted them into his arms with grace. They weren’t bad people, quite the contrary. They did all the good they could and were always helping others…That is why I believe it wasn’t a punishment from God but rather a part of his big plan. It was their time to go, and maybe I don’t understand why, but one day, I will. I’m only 17, too young for my parents to be gone but they will always be in my heart where they belong and nothing will ever change that.” I paused as I could feel the tears in my eyes but I had to be strong, for my parents. I swallowed back the tears and quivered as I continued on. “My parent’s will be missed by everyone. Mum, dad, I love you both very much and I will always miss you. Thank you all for coming. It means a lot to me.”          

The priest nodded and the coffins were being lowered to the ground. As they were, I whispered two words and two words only, “Good bye”. They already knew how much I loved them. I collapsed to my knees and a sob escaped my throat. I took a single red rose and brought it to my heart. I held it there for a few moments and then tossed it into the hole. This single red rose was a gesture of my love. With that, I slowly stood up and walked away. And with a single look behind my shoulder, I carried on.