Death is the great equalizer. It's practically the only thing that every human being have in common. It is the most natural thing in this world, if you don't succumb to death, you're doomed- that's what wise men would say.

I think it's the most painful thing anyone will have to go through; not their own death, but the loss of a loved one. I don't know how people carry on like nothing happened, as if the person they lost never lived. I once told myself that if someone close to me dies, I would never cry and I would never feel bad. I have come to accept, that death comes to everyone, and I believe that dying would give satisfaction to a person's life- not because they lost someone, but because their loved one's life has taken its course and lived the life they were destined to fulfill.

But I'm throwing that belief down the dump today.

I hardly slept for the past 4 days since Mom died, I've been contemplating, asking the universe, and searching inside my head, reasons why my Mom would leave us too soon. being 40 is not even old enough for death- I'm not saying I would feel less of a remorse if she dies at an older age, but I kind of wish we were able to spend more time with her. I would love her to see me graduate, I want her to meet my future family, I want her to feel proud of me. I'm 16 and all I've done was win an art competition, and have my parents spend money enough to feed the homeless for a year in boarding school, just to keep me off trouble, if I can call that an achievement.

Of all the troubles I've been involved, my mom was the only one who understood me, and defended me from all who judged me, she was my savior, and my inspiration. I wanted to be better, not for myself, but for my Mom. It's kind of unthinkable to even wish that she and Dad would divorce, because for the record, we can live better off without him. He's cheated on Mom for years, spent more of his time at the casinos, than have dinner with her, he'd spend more money on his vices that he would on our electric bill. Yes, he's got the money to waste, but along with that, my Mom fell ill to his cold shoulder.

As the chauffer parked my car behind my dad's, at the cemetery, I felt a lump on my throat that hurt like a knife twisting my flesh.. I want to throw up, cry and run away. I've grown used to seeing my Mom inside a coffin, but sending her 6 feet under this earth is just too much for me.

I can't do it.

I closed my eyes and clenched my hands together, I prayed- prayed real hard to a God unknown to me, to bring everything back.. I'm not ready for it, I'm just not going to give up my Mom. Never.

"Tegan, let's go." I jerked in surprise as my Dad open my door. I looked up at him, our faces wet in tears and our eyes swollen from crying- I never really looked at my Dad since Mom died- it was a sight to see him feel this sad. It was almost satisfying to know that he too, is suffering.

I nodded and wiped my face dry with my bare hands; and left the car with a heavy heart. I let out a sigh before I close my door as my Dad grab my hands. I almost jerked to pull it away, but I felt his sincerity- I felt how sorry he was for himself, and I just now, began to understand that he is feeling regret.

We walked towards Mom's grave, where everyone was waiting to start the funeral service; I irked to the sight of her coffin on top of the lever that will bring her towards the pit, I also felt Dad hold on tighter to my hand. We weren't talking- we didn't talk since he told me what happened to mom. I'm not ready to blame him just yet- we're both grieving, and I know lashing out will not help shed the pain.

We sat in front of the visitors, right in the middle of the service. Everyone looked sad, and everyone gave a crooked smile in greeting, and recognition that the widowed family is there. I have never felt this much apathy in my life- I almost felt bad that people have to be sad around us like this. It's fucking sick though, to see how those people who used to gossip about my family was there, sending their condolences. Of all the scandals we've been through, I never thought people are still at least, paying respect to my Mom. Well, I would understand cause my Mom never really did anything, and these people have pitied her, for being a wife who just couldn't handle her husband's womanizing, and drug and alcohol consumption.

As I wait out for the pastor to speak, I can feel a weight of eyes staring me down; I looked behind me and only saw everyone wearing their sunglasses on; I scoffed and shook my head as I turn my head back front- as if these people were even grieving. We the family, for one, aren't even covering our grief, but these people who barely know my Mom's real name are acting as if they've cried their eyes out for days- it's pretentious, and I think it's just ridiculous.

After we buried Mom, people almost lined up to give us their condolences; but I didn't know how to respond. I don't know if I should thank them, or if I should give them a smile in appreciation that they're asses are sorry for us, more than they already are. Dad noticed I wasn't feeling a little too good, from all the people bombarding us- so he excused us. He grabbed me by the shoulder and walked me out of the small crowd.

"you don't have to talk to all these people, dear. You can run along if you want, unwind uh.. maybe go home first. I still need to arrange something with the funeral service" he said in a low tone.

I just nodded, and looked up at him; Dad smiled, but his eyes filled up with tears in seconds and he just covered his face. I didn't know what to say- I didn't want to speak, so I just went ahead and embraced him for the first time.

"I want to stay, Dad." I said while I rest my head on his chest, as he wrap his arms around me too. Those were the first words that came out of my mouth, for the past 4 days. But those words were more than enough to break my Father down into tears.

"I'm sorry Tegan.." He said, sobbing real hard.

"it's okay Dad, I wanted to be here for Mom, for the last time." I said, embracing my Dad tighter.

"I'm so sorry for everything." he said. I felt Dad's weight getting heavy on me, and I'm starting to feel as if I'm going to fall down.

"hey Dad, come on.. we're falling down.." I said, but just as I was about to pull away from him, my Dad passed out.

"James! help!" I called on our chauffer. People ran over to us upon seeing what happened and one of his friends who happen to be a physician was luckily, there with us.

"what happened?" he asked as he kneel down with me to check my Dad's pulse.

he obviously passed out, moron

"he hasn't had any sleep for days, he's obviously exhausted." I said, trying to resist my sarcasm to take over.

"Jesus Christ.. Robert, what are you doing to yourself.. call an ambulance. I have an oxygen can on my car, I'll just go get it." he said before he ran towards his car.

Aunt Jenny quickly looked over Dad as I immediately called 911.

This is just too much for a day, and I feel like I'm about to pass out, myself.