~First off, I'd like to dedicate this to my friend, who is living through this sitch right now... May she have strength, wisdom and compassion in her life from now on. This is based on her story but obviously I have taken some artistic lisence. Hope you like it, and feel free to leave me some input. I plan on revising it!~
What the Living Do
there is the staircase.
there is the sun.
there is the kicthen,
the plate of toast and strawberry jam.
your subterfuge
your ordinary mirage

You stand red handed
you want to wash yourself
in earth, in rocks and grass

What are you supposed to do
with all this loss?
-Margaret Atwood, “Down”

“Wait, say that again?”
“Mel is moving in, Jess... she's pregnant.”
In my mind's eye I could see my mother, gasping silently as she took her last breaths. Her frail body lay out on a hospital bed, and I gently took her bony hand in mine. I tried to ignore the IV strung up to her arm but the tubes seemed to glare at me... asking me why I was here, why I needed to see my mother before she died. I felt like ripping them out, picking her tenuous frame up, and running to the spot where we always used to sit and talk. We'd lie there, gazing up into the pure April night from that golden field, and there she would be able to rest in peace. But instead, here I was, feeling my mothers last rush of blood echo throughout her body... feeling life drain away in my shaking fingers, hopeless with the knowledge my life was to change forever.
“Dad, I thought you cared about mom!!” My voice split as it came out, surprising even myself at how vulnerable it sounded.
Apparently it sounded juvenile to my father. He started talking to me like I was 5 again.
“Now sweetie... we have to move on with our lives...”
“But its been only 6 months!!” I cried out. I could feel the heat boiling up from the inside, pounding against my ribs, anxious to get out.
My father stared at me blankly. For a moment, I saw something flash through his eyes, something like defeat. But in a second it passed, and the stranger peered through his eyes again.
“Mom would have wanted this... you need a maternal figure in the house.”
“you only wish dad... you've seen me, I can take care of myself.”
“All the better. You can help Mel with her pregnancy.”
“Dad... no...” I felt a choking feeling arise in my throat. I couldn't stand to watch the image of my dad fade away before my eyes. Once he had been so full of life, so imaginative and supportive. Now I saw no trace of that man I once knew. All I saw was a silent, easily shattered enigma within my father's body. There was a stranger there... a stranger who never brought flowers to my mother's bedside, or went to my cross country meets, or held me close as I cried the night my mother left this world to join the Lord. He had become so irresponsible, so...fake.
I turned away sharply.
“Jess?”
“ I can't do it dad. Not now... don't ask me to push mom away.” I could hear the choking feeling leaking its way into my voice. I had to get out of there, had to get away from this nightmare.
A million shattered dreams rushed through my head as I ran to my room and grabbed a bag. Every object I owned held a memory I wanted to forget. Looking across my room, I plucked up a few clothes and a book to read, along with all the money I had in my wallet. As I dashed out of my room, something silvery caught my eye. It was a ring... my mother's wedding ring. She had given it to me, on my 15th birthday, the week before she died. I had looked into her face, with the deep brown eyes that matched mine and the auburn hair I loved to brush those nights when she was strong enough to sit up. I saw the look on her face as she held it out to me. It wasn't one of distress or fortitude; rather it was one of pure determination. Later on I would realize she was trying not to collapse and wail out as she gave her last possession of any value, besides her life, away. “This doesn't look like much, but it means the world to me... please Jessica, remember I'm here, with you, no matter what you may think... if you ever need to talk to me, just whisper and I'll be there.” Her pale, delicate fingers trembled as she held the hoop out for my acceptance.
I scooped the ring up and snatched a necklace my father had given me. My fingers fumbled to unclasp the ends, but I managed to do it and slip the ring on the thin silver chain. Quickly clasping it around my neck, my eyes widened as I could hear my father lumbering down the stairs, calling out for a treaty or some form of tolerance. My heart was pounding, rushing my life into my body and whispering what I should do. I slipped out the back, throwing the pack over my shoulder, and silently ran down the darkened street, away from all that I had ever known.
Only then did I realize I was scared. The trees seemed morbidly large and the moon was shadowed by a stream of clouds. I shivered slightly when a bitter wind circled around my waist. I had a few more blocks till the bus station, and a few more after that to Ria's house. Although a warm, quiet house or an all night bus ride sounded appealing (escape was first and formost in my mind), I knew where I had to go.
As I entered that vacant lot, something soothed my aching feet. I kneeled, but then toppled over onto the grass. I was exhausted, frustrated, and betrayed. Everything familiar was gone, with nothing but a bagful of clothes and a few inconsistent aspirations to replace it. I wanted my life to be as serene and unadulterated as this meadow, filled with only soft, rolling amber grasses.
I ran my hands over the shimmering golden grass, watching it sift through my fingers. I don't know how long I lay there, staring into the sky and remembering all the pain all over again. All the missed exams in school, all the unfriendly faces in the waiting room. The searing lonliness as I placed my mother's favorite summer dress into a drab, unworthy cardboard box. I wanted nothing more than to watch my mother make hot cocoa as she hummed along to the radio on a cold winter's night. Ordinary things seems so simple until they are torn away. I fingered my mother's ring. Love must be like that, it has to be like that. Why else would I still hear my mother's voice in the rushing water of a creek, why else would my father look to another for support and comfort?
But as I lay there, I began to whisper into the wind.
“Mom, I know you're here, since you said you'd be... you promised me you'd never leave me. Please, help me now... please let me know there is hope in sorrow. Nothing's the same without you mom... I want to see your face again...” I whimpered as I felt the tears stream gently over my cheeks.
I fell asleep in that field, lulled to sleep by the cooing of morning doves as the sun broke through the fog that settled on the dry grasses. All I know is that I slept soundly for a few hours, before awakening, to find five night-blue daisies resting by my head, arranged in a circle. I gathered them up and got to my feet, my eyes sweeping over the field of daises that had appeared in the distance. Then I walked away, reverently and quietly, from the place my mother came finally to rest.