Their House
Grief rushed over me. They were gone, my only tie to life. My only string to reality was gone. The only people that loved me, my parents, were gone. I brushed that thought to the back of my mind and stepped up to the doorstep. The house had not changed since they died, years ago. The door was still painted that pale shade of blue, a depressing color. The floors were covered in a thick layer of dust that flew up as I scoffed my feet. I felt like a little girl that had just lost her favorite toy, I wanted to just break down in sobs. I had to carry on, I reminded myself, it was my job.
Choking back tears, I fumbled around the corner into the living room. The dusty leather couch that my father read the paper on every day sat un-used and coated in a blanket of dust. The rocking chair that was daily to my mother was empty, filled with dust bunnies of all sizes. I turned to the kitchen, and the terra cotta pots that lined the windows. The counter tops that were all sparkly clean, now full of dust. I looked at the conditions now, dirty and unused and it made me want to collapse again.
I walked to the front door. I wanted to break down again at the thought of me, a sixteen year old girl, unable to revisit sad memories. I looked at the sunset, now a crimson orange color, and the sun, how it painted a picture in the sky. After a hard moment, I took a rushed deep breath and faced the stairs, like the impossible enemy.
Slowly climbing up I looked at the pictures on the wall. A pit settled in my stomach. I wrenched the door open to my parent's room. The bed was still perfectly made, the dressers still aligned in order. I walked over to the bed and sat down, waves of lost hope flooded over me. They were everything that I had, every aspect of my life. After a long moment, I forced myself to get up and leave, I would come back tomorrow. I needed to lift the vail that covered my whole body as I worked in this house, the vail of sorrow. I needed to connect and get over the truth, move on, though I had no idea how I could do that.
As I woke up from a needed rest the sun started to rise over the hills. I could see the outline of the downtown area, where my parent's Victorian house was buried. The events from yesterday flooded my mind, and I almost did not control myself. Misery flooded over me, I had lost my sister, who ran away from home at an early age, and my parent's life seemed not worth living. I dragged myself out of bed, and into my car. My misery had to be faced, it had to be done.
My car rumbled along the empty streets, until I reached the block of Victorian houses that I was doomed to face. It seemed that I was faced with an impossible task. As I pulled up at the door the sun had just reached midmorning height, and it reflected off of the sign on the door. Many different memories flooded into my brain, when my father came home from graduation of law school, when my mother sent my sister off and let her run away, the last time I saw her. When my mother and father came home that last evening that they were alive, and they both fought, the whole last night of their life.
I pushed those thoughts aside and stepped inside. It was as gloomy and dark as ever, but it was still comforting, to know that I was at my real home, not at some foster home. I moved silently straight up stairs. I found my sister's bedroom, still untouched from the day that she left. There still was the sign on the door, Chasity. Her room was full of the posters of her favorite bands. My eyes scanned the room, anything worth saving, just in case I found her somewhere. Like it was supposed to pop out at me, a charm bracelet found my eyes, one that Chasity made herself, one for me and one for her. I reached for it, the one that she made for me still on my wrist.
I touched it, and a small light flickered at the end of the tunnel. I could feel the sisterly love that I never had, never old enough to appreciate. I scanned her room one more time and left, heading to my mother's jewelry room.
The door swung open and I stepped in, filled with the smell of the perfumes that lined the shelves, many untouched. I went through the drawers. All filled with my mother's favorite gems and necklaces. In the last drawer I found a watch. My heart thumbed down in my chest. My mind zoned out, and willed me to pick up the watch. My hand crept forward. My fingers slid around the clasp. Then I heard the knock on the door.
The watch almost fell out of my hand. I turned and slowly, blindly crept to the stairs. Someone was at the door. Slowly I walked down the creaky stairs. A large girl was at the door. I did not recognize her at first. I opened the door and tugged open the screen.
"Good afternoon, what a fine day today," The girl paused, "I was looking for the residence of this home, possibly a young girl named Esther." The girl spoke. She reminded her of someone that I knew, on the tip of my tongue. My heart was like the never silencing drum. I looked around, looking for someone named Esther. For some reason I could not remember that I was the Esther that she was looking for. I was the residence of this house, the new owners.
"This, this is she." I croaked. Then it hit me, she was Chasity, she was my sister, my only sister. She was the one that left home several years after I was born. We all thought that she died. The only thing that I had ever remembered from her was the clay bracelet that we had, each a matching bracelet.
"Esther, is this really you?" She gasped. Her solemn face broke out into a smile, wanting me to forget my troubles and smile to. She ran forward and grasped me hard, I wanted to cry from happiness. Tears actually flooded my face, as we embraced for the first time in years.
"I wanted to apologize to you ever since mother, let me run away, but then the news came to me, and I," she faltered, "I did not have the strength. I finally needed to come by, and I saw a light on upstairs." She told me. Her face was brightly lit up. All of the time that she had been regretting her choices, I had never known. I had never known that I had a sister that loved me.
As the day slipped by quickly, I was in less grief. We worked together to clean up the rooms. I seemed to find new hope in seeing her again, as if she brought out a different side of me. This time together was the way sister time should be, we were able to talk about our life. I shared my experience with my foster family, the way I had just left them. The house suddenly felt filled, it was not gloomy, and it was not scary or sad.
As we worked together the house became a real home. The sun came out behind the clouds. The dust was wiped away, just like the scratches on our hearts. The memories were shared, and the emotion was no longer bottled up inside. As we made our way upstairs the truth started to settle in. It had passed, the event was over. Our parents had really passed. But the difference this time, the second day at the house, was that we were able to share it. Our emotions were not corked in our souls. We could share and be able to live through it. It was the difference between sadness and happiness.
The sun finally set. The house seemed to regain life, loose the eerie feeling. It was now not the impossible emotional barrier, it was the friendly place that we grew up in. The vail had been lifted from my head. I was fully able to live a life, I had passed an event that will scar my heart, but I learned and grew. I watched the sun set behind the clouds. The rewarding feeling of completing something and passing an emotional barrier settled in. Chasity stood next to me embracing me in the hug that never came when I was young. Emotion started to weld up again, I did not want to accept the truth, and I did not want to go back to my life. I was able to get a glimpse, a glimpse of the way it was supposed to be, not the depressing life I had, not the foster home life, the life I am living.
As I pulled away, leaving Chasity, grief came again, I wanted to break down. And if there was any lesson that I could take away from the trauma, take away from losing my parents, it was that you can cry, uncork the emotion. So that is what I did.