Gone

I sat on the bank of a river, my face sullen and pale as I gazed into the depths of the ever-flowing current. I had just come from the funeral mass, I couldn't hold it together for her burial. Just the thought of her cold, lifeless body lying in a closed coffin being piled high with dirt sent my stomach tumbling. I felt queasy. Some day I would regret not going but today I was grateful for the brief lapse of mourning. The past week had been exceptionally terrible. Everyone had continuously reminded me of my "tragic loss". Their words seemed like the water current, they were always there but never really helped when you were immersed in them.

I held back my tears, squeezing my eyes shut for a brief moment. I could hear her voice in my ear, chiding me; "Big boys don't cry" the voice said. I remember when she had said those words. It was when I split my lip but, despite her words, I continued to cry. Eventually I had been coaxed out of my cocoon by the promise of ice-cream and a fizzy drink. Later, I found out that I was misled. I was given fat-free ice-cream and sparkling water. Back then I had cried, but now I laughed quietly to myself.

For fear of sinking back into the dark pits of depression, I urged my mind to target another memory. She was nagging me to do the dishes and do my homework but I wanted to go out with my friends. It was soon after dad's death and I forgot I was supposed to help out. I was glad I stayed. The smile she gave me when I was done brightened my day and I was rewarded with pizza for dinner.

She had been the only family I had left and now I was alone. Fate was cruel. She had abandoned me and left me to battle through life on my own, without her. I felt the pressure of melancholy pushing down on my heart as I picked up a flat stone and felt its smooth texture under my thumb. I threw the stone in a fashion that would allow it to skim the water. I forced myself back into my head to recall more times of a childish innocence which had passed far too quickly.

I considered the time when I broke my first bone; she spent all night with me. I remembered the time I had to get glasses for school; she said I looked intelligent and sophisticated when the other boys made fun of them.

For some, the job of taking care of my would have seemed like a chore, but she always smiled and gave me the impression that she thoroughly enjoyed it. When I gave her that mug, I truly though she was the best.

I swiftly picked up another stone and violently flung it into the water. I had reached the anger stage in this cycle of depression. Why was she taken from me? Why had that gang targetted her? Why was the world so cruel? Was there really an omnipresent old sage that controlled everything? These questions burned themselves into my head, making new memories bubble to the surface. They [caused] me agony and anguish. I was mentally writhing on the grass.

I hand grasped my shoulder and my head swivelled to inspect the owner. It belonged to Molly, my only friend. She put on a reassuring smile and sat down beside me. "What are you thinking about?" she said in that soothing voice of hers. Her hand still rested on my shoulder, like a bridge connecting us. When she got no response she rephrased her question. "How do you feel?" She asked. She started rubbing my shoulder and I looked into her eyes, uttering one word. "Lonely". I took in a deep breath. "My mom's dead". I croaked in a cracked voice and leaned my upon her shoulder. One more magical memory.