This is an idea for a story I have in mind. Enjoy! Let me know what you think. ?
Do you ever think when someone dies you make yourself love them? That to cope and to not regret never doing things your mind makes you more miserable than you should be? Because being sad over loosing someone who you have memories with is better than being sad because you lost the chance with someone. I think that's what's happening to my parents.
As I sit here staring at the never ending forest scenery we pass by, I listen to my mom's sobs that rack her body in the back seat; and my dad trying to hold himself together. His knuckles were turning white because of the iron tight grip he had on the steering wheel.
All of this was a facade. My mom, my dad, the sudden move because the memories were too "unbearable". They never cared about him. At least not until he was gone.
We started to come across a sorry excuse for civilization, La Push, home of the nothing but wildlife. The entry ways to the paths of each house marked with numbers. Still, none of us talked. It's been this way for about 3 weeks. In those 3 weeks my dad was business as usual. He had acted as if nothing has happened and continued his life style returning to work the day after the funeral. My mom was a wreck though, she hardly came out of her bedroom and when she did, it was to eat a single cracker then go back to bed.
The thoughts in my head had me off in a land so when the car jerked to a stop I jumped slightly. Here we are, house 1727, our new home. The thing is though, is that nothing and no where will be home without the one thing that brought us together.
My brother, James.