D/C: I don't own Digimon.
Here goes another Digimon one-shot of mine. I like writing one-shots because you only have to write this one chappie, and then you won't be bothered by the story at all. Ok, now, this fic is pretty sad, so if you get emotional quite easily; don't read it. (But then again, I'm just exaggerating!) Oh, and the whole thing is from ten-year-old Ken's point of view.
BIRTHDAYS AND DEATHDAYS
The second of July.
This day was and will always be Sam's birthday, even if Sam exists no more.
When Sam was alive, his birthday was a cause of celebration…there would be cake, balloons, party hats, horns and masks, not to mention the fabulous snacks and decorations mom would whip up; she made sure Sam's birthday party was perfect every year.
Sam used to tell me it is my birthday too; he'd let me blow the candles with him…and sometimes he even shared his presents with me. I remember the toy car he once gave me, and the jigsaw puzzle, and…so many other stuff.
I stand and look at the calendar. Before, there would be a little birthday cake drawn next to the square which held the number 2; the second day of July. But now, there was none. Usually, mom would be up and about making pastries and cookies and cake, and decorating the house and blowing balloons…but now, mom would just sit in her room and cry her heart out…sometimes she even goes and has a look at some of the left-over decorations. Usually, dad would take the day off work and stay at home to join the celebrations, but today, he had left to work even before we woke up.
And usually…there would be a boy with glasses trotting around the house with that extremely happy expression on the face. He would walk towards mom and dad, asking them each of the presents they'd brought for him. He'd go and taste the cookies and the other stuff mom was preparing, and would even help with the decorations, and he'd still have time to sit and play with me…
But…that boy wasn't around here anymore. He was gone. He was hit by a motorcycle and he died. Sam was dead.
I still have a difficult time believing that Sam had died, even though four years had already passed since he died. But then, we'd go and visit his grave…we'd wish him a happy birthday and I would place a bouquet on his grave, all the while with mom crying into dad's shoulder.
-
The third of August.
This is the day Sam died. I can still remember it pretty clearly, and how can I forgot when I was standing there and watching it happen before my eyes? I dream about it.
I was there at the funeral. I saw them lower Sam's coffin into the ground, and I saw them dump freshly dug earth on the shiny wooden lid of the coffin. I was clutching his picture, and mom was crying loudly while dad tried to restrain her. people kept walking up to us and offering us words of sympathy and solace, telling us they understood what we were going through…I don't think they understand; they didn't know Sam, he wasn't their brother or son…it wasn't them who lost him; it was us.
We'd visit his grave every third of August as well, we bring him flowers and we stand by him for nearly two hours…as if standing next to him is ever going to bring him back.
It's not better back at home either. Mom would again go lock herself up in her room, and stay away from food till the next day and maybe even more. Dad would take the day off, and he would sit in the den and flip through the TV channels, although I'm pretty sure he doesn't watch it, but does it just to pass time.
Next to the box which contained the number 3, mom would pin a black ribbon, to remind us all that on this day…we lost Sam.
-
The forth of November.
Today is my birthday. Although it's a celebration, it's never quite happy.
Why?
Because my brother is not there to share it with me.
Sure, there all these happy people, and mom and dad would be cheerful, and all these decorations and balloons would be swarming the place…but it still wasn't all right.
As I stand to blow my candles, I feel my eyes watering. Sam and I had always blown out candles together…on his birthday, on my birthday…we did it together. But now, no Sam was around to blow the candles with me.
The people are cheering me on, and urging me to blow my candles and make a wish, and I do it. I blow the candles and make the wish I make every year, on each birthday, on each shooting star…
I wish for Sam to come back.
I know it's stupid and pointless, for Sam will never come back. But I still do it. I know for one that he'd have done the same thing if it were him.
Mom sees my teary eyes, and she hugs me, and whispers in my ear that everything's going to be okay. But I know nothing's gonna be okay…nothing will be okay with Sam dead.
-
The ? of ?
I don't know when I'm going to die. No one does. I might die today…tomorrow…this hour…this minute…no one really knows.
But I'd like to think of what would happen if I die. Would mom and dad be as upset and sad about my death as Sam's death? Would mom sit and cry on my birthday, and would they come visit me and give me flowers? Would they care? Would they pin a black ribbon next to my death day? Would they feel sorry that I left?
I like to think I'm important to them but I can never be sure.
And most importantly…if I die…would I see Sam again?
I really hope I do.
-
A/N: (sniff!) So sad, isn't it? But also kinda sweet, no? Well, I hope you enjoyed it because I want reviews from you people, so press that little purple button and send me one!
-ZEN.