Their mother died in the spring.
It was as though winter never left; Stretching its icy hands out and ripping the heat from the house, leaving them all cold. Shivering despite the thawing ground outside.
Their mother died in the spring.
Claimed by cancer that had crept up and strangled the life from her. They had seen it coming. They had tried to stop it's growth. But in the end, it had won.
Their mother died in the spring.
Family and friends had swarmed their house, offering platitudes and condolences that none of them were quite sure they could accept. It wasn't as though those words would bring their mother back. It wasn't like those words could do anything. But people did bring over meals which they had all been thankful for. Even when not everyone could eat them.
The wake was on a Friday. Dozens of people showed up to pay their respects and swap memories. Always seeming to focus on the little quirks their mother had had. The repeated stories over and over again: How she had run away from home to live in the woods when she was nine, trying to live off of Ho-Ho's and the bottle of milk she'd brought, only to return home that evening. Or the time she had tried to use bubblegum as an eye patch. Or that time her siblings and her and cut their cat's fur for Mother's Day thinking that that was somehow something their mother wanted.
Losing her was difficult.
Perhaps that was why no one was particularly surprised when Frisk had run out of that church. Frisk was a child, only eleven. Death is never really easy to deal with, and Frisk had already seen too much of it. Everyone had understood that they needed time to cope.
Their siblings had run out after them, but Frisk was already out of eyesight, and the wake called most of them back. They could look for their youngest after.
Two stayed out to look for Frisk, checking the park, the stoops, the shops. But Frisk was nowhere to be found, and they gave up. Frisk would find their way back.
They had headed home after that, perhaps that was where Frisk had run off to. But Frisk was not there; they were probably with a friend. Frisk would probably be home soon. This wasn't the first time Frisk had run off. They would be back in a few hours, and siblings would huddle together on the couch, drinking cocoa in somber silence as they watched It's a Wonderful Life.
But Frisk had not returned home that night. Surely they would be home in the morning.
But when morning came, Frisk still was no where to be found. So the siblings had called all of Frisk's friends. None of them had seen Frisk, so the siblings called the police and the true search began.
Missing child posters on every corner. Pictures on the back of milk cartons. Frisk's face on the daily news.
But life pulled so many of them back. Nathan was the first to leave; he had a job and a family that needed him. Then Jeremiel, summoned back by the Navy. Then Ariel, across the country…. And Esther who had her own family to raise. Until finally only one remained in that empty, old house.
And then Summer came.
The search had been relentless. Too many days off from work, too many days of missed classes, too many days of coming up with nothing.
Summer came and so did despair and despondence; Failure and termination.
May melted into June, and June into July. The days became long, and the heat oppressive.
August arrived. Frisk still had not come home.
