-1Sad because I don't hear your voice

Glad because you're in peace

Hopeful because I know I'll see you again

Dedicated to anyone who has ever lost someone you'll understand.

I own nothing.

Wade Hamilton was his father's son in color but his spirit was his mother's. He did not fall down to the ground sobbing his heart out as he watched his stepfather breakdown, but that did not mean he felt the loss of his mother any less. He simply reasoned that breaking down would be of no use. It would not bring her back, and it would not make the pain go away. It would only open the flood gates and but the emptiness would remain.

He knew people were trying to help by being sympatric but how they understand the awful twisting pain that he was under he thought. How could anyone ever truly understand? In the last couple of days, he had thought more about his father than he had in most of life. Sure he had given some thought to him over the years and on his father's birthday had accompanied his aunt to his grave, but this was differ. As cold as is sounded he hardly noticed his father absence and while he would have liked to meet his father he rationalized that one could only miss what he had he had never had to a certain extent.

His mother was different, very different. Her passing had completely shaken his life. Life had taught him a very cruel lesson at a very young age. For most of his life had held an utter admiration and respect for his mother. Thought his life she has always been there never once giving in or letting any keep her down. And while She had never paid any extra attention to him she had always made sure that he had everything he needed.

Perhaps he rationed if their relationship had remained distant It would hurt as much. He doubt it.

Over the course of his stepfather's absence she had changed, while she was far from the dotting cookie cutting mother she had actually started spending time with him. They decorated his new room, taken walks and actually talked. She had even taken him to the store and let him help her with the books. He had been truly and utterly happy because although he had always know it She had told him she loved him and that she was proud of him. Yes, he thought for once in his life he had been completely sure he was loved, and then it was cruelly yanked away.

He recalled how in the hours prior to her passing while his aunt was telling him to pray for her soul and resignation he had wanted to yell no! He didn't want to pray for resignation he just wanted his Mother to be alright. He didn't want to hear talk of Heaven or God he simply wanted to stomp and yell and cry because Life was not fair. And he didn't want to be strong for his sisters and stepfather he just wanted to cry and scream and wake up from the awful nightmare. But what he wanted most of all was the answer to the oldest questions in time. WHY? Why her and why now?

Now the only thing he felt was the all too consuming rage that threaten to over take his calm demeanor. Yes, he felt rage. He felt rage at anyone and anything at this moment because rage was so much easier to handle than the loss. The rage made his forget the empty void even if it was only for a short time. He wanted to hurt because he was hurt and his dreams were broken, and no matter what they said no span of time would ever make the loss go away it would remain with him for all his life of that he was completely sure.