I stepped out of my car on a warm September day. The sky was a bright blue with white clouds and all seemed calm and well. To anyone, this would just be a normal day. And to them I suppose it was. But as I exhaled a shaky breath and walked into what I've been avoiding for years, I had no idea the memories I was going to make inside a building I already decided was going to be my personal hell for the duration of my senior year. Or the people I would meet that would stay with me for the rest of my life. Nothing could've prepared me.
During the summer, I spent my time in a state of shock. I knew I wasn't going to be able to stay under my covers forever, but under my covers I could do nothing but listen to my steady heart beat. This is something I've done as long as I can remember, but now it just seemed hopeless. No matter how strong a heartbeat is, it can suddenly just...stop. I couldn't pull myself out of this absolute numbness. I knew this wasn't me, I was the child that had always known better, I was aware and above staying under my covers all day. The loss of my amazing father took everything I've learned and turned me into everything I swore I'd never be.
I knew my mother was just as heartbroken as me. However, she had the strength I didn't have, and every morning and night she was there, trying to coax me out of bed with gentle words and singing in her sweet voice. After about a month or so, I slowly got on my feet again. I started to walk around my house singing songs under my breath. My mother of course was ecstatic to see me up and about, and smiled at me with misty and genuine eyes.
Around mid-July, I snuck downstairs in the morning before my Mom woke up to surprise her with breakfast in bed, a small payback for all she's done for me recently. I quietly padded into the kitchen to see her on her tip toes dramatically sneaking around the kitchen making breakfast. I smiled to myself. Suddenly the toaster popped up and Mom jumped a foot in the air. All was forgotten for a few moments and I began to laugh genuinely. At first it was just quiet chuckles, but when Mom whipped around and looked utterly offended, the quiet chuckles turned into deep belly laughs. She laughed just as hard as me, until we remembered we weren't supposed to be laughing. Still, from that point on, there was a spark of hope amongst all the sadness.
Every morning for the rest of the summer, it was a contest to see who could get up earliest to make breakfast. I know Mom let me win most of the time, but her face when she learned that she lost still was the funniest thing. We began to go outside more. We took walks around all the beautiful parks when no one was there. Being in a park alone is much different and has a serene beauty to it, which kept drawing us one of the rare mornings Mom had made breakfast for me, she had a plan. After breakfast, (which for us is around 6 a.m.) we headed out to our town's greenhouse. Of course everyone knew and loved each other in a town like this, but seeing all the kind and familiar faces still made me fill with a sort of happiness I hadn't felt since..before. It was a good feeling.
My Mom filled up my arms with beautiful bright flowers and small plants that made up for their lack of bright colors in beauty. We went home and planted them all around our house, bringing a definite element of hope and life.
We started having talks at through the night. We talked about my father. What a great man he was, how caring and gentle he was. It was nice to talk about my Father like he wasn't gone. But when we started talking about his death, instead of feeling depressed and trapped, it felt amazing to get all these feelings that I've been burying off my chest. Mother, being much wiser than me had been in the process of doing this for weeks. I told her I felt bad for unburdening her and not talking to her about anything.
"Don't feel bad about that! If there's anything I've learned it's that we all heal differently." she said to me. I hadn't realized until then that I was healing, and I started to panic a little bit.
"I-I don't want to heal Mom. Healing means moving on and moving on means forgetting." I said shakily, trying to fight off the rising panic inside of me.
"No it doesn't, Kurt my love. Healing is finding peace with pain. Being content with contention." Mom said passionately, and I knew she was right. And as July slipped into August, the numbness was less constant. I knew this was the beginnings of healing, and I tried to be okay with that, and more and more everyday I was. Until one night my Mom sat me down.
I could tell by her face that this was serious. My heart dropped. I knew my mom, nothing affected her. She rolled with the punches with a smile on her face.
"Kurt." My mother began. "I can't stand doing this to you, because you've just started to smile again. Will you promise me you won't leave me again after I tell you this?" I immediately felt a pang of guilt. Did I leave her? I quickly realized that yes, yes I had, but now was not the time to ponder upon it.
"I promise, Mom." I said as sturdily as I could muster.
"Okay. Well, the numbers just haven't been adding up. With your father gone, we've got no money coming in. We've just been staying alive from the savings your father had, but that's almost gone." I knew where this was going and I feeling of remorse spread throughout me. But it wasn't until next week sorting through my possessions and sorting them into two boxes: Throw Away and Lima did it sink in. I was leaving everything I everything I had known and love to some hick town in Ohio just because there was family there. With lead in my heart and vacant eyes, I slipped back into numbness.