by Allie L., 16
There were two figures in the distance. Locked in an embrace. They were so close together that their shapes started to melt into one another until they became one. The outline of this new, united shape glowed in the fading light, as the sun fell from the sky to make way for the darkness of night.
I slammed the book shut. No. Why do we always find love right before it has to be taken away? This small little book only fueled my bitterness further. It revived the hurt that I felt last summer when the thing that mattered the most in my life got taken away. I hate this. I hate the world. I didn’t deserve this. In my anger, I didn’t realize how hard I was clenching my fists, for when I loosened my hands, I could see the tiny red crescents that formed as a result of my fingernails. My breath faltered and my heart stopped as I saw those crescents and it reminded me of her. The most beautiful and angelic creature in the world, and I thought of what she would say. She would take me in her arms and rock me like she had done when I was younger. She would sit me down and tell me that she loved me so much and smile so big that it made me want to do the same. I tried to forget about it, and so I opened the book back up again.
Yet as night rose, it enveloped the two figures in the darkness. They did not know the darkness from the other, and so they separated. They were plucked apart and tossed away in different directions. Far, far away from each other. Their separation grew and grew and the darkness intensified.
My sweaty palms clamped onto the page, causing wrinkles in the fine paper. I don’t understand. Why do things have to be this way? Why was she taken away from me? Why won’t she come back? Why can’t I go to her? I tried to calm myself down, but I couldn’t. I drew in sharp and uneven breaths as I tried to prevent the horrendous thoughts from plaguing my mind. The hot tears flowed down my cheeks. They tasted salty, but I couldn’t tell if that was from them or from the sour blood that came from biting my lips too hard to prevent the tears. So there I lay, in a pool of my own tears, as I did every night since that one fatal night …
Five years. 7 months. 19 days. 6 hours. 8 minutes. 23 seconds. That was when it happened. They had told me that she was sick before. But I didn’t believe them. My mother was invincible. She had conquered and could conquer so much that I didn’t believe anything could ever happen to her. She was my superhero. She was the one who picked me up when I was down. Who tickled me for no reason just to make me smile. Who made warm food that filled my heart and soul and body with joy. Who read me books and poetry that came from her favorite dusty pages. Who laughed and smiled and sang all the time. Who danced with me in our living room to silly songs just because. Who took me everywhere and did everything with me because I was her best friend, her little angel, her sweet daughter, her little sunshine, her everything, as she was mine.
She told me not to worry when they had to put her in the hospital. She said that it would be temporary, just for a couple of weeks, and then she would be good to go. Those were the worst days. They were gray and dark and filled with the dank smell of the hospital chemicals. And those were the days when I had to watch her fade away. Her once full and glowing cheeks had become hollowed out and pale. Her once long and luscious hair had become dry and it was all falling out. Her smile had become thinner and tired. Her eyes had become dull, like all the life had been sucked out of them by some other, more powerful source. Those were the worst weeks of my life. I sat there and read to her, played her favorite songs, made her favorite foods. I had to watch the person I once knew fade away, like her soul flew out of her body, leaving only an empty shell.
Why did You have to take her away? Couldn’t You have left her with me so that we could dance more and sing more and read more and play more and laugh more and smile more? Why did You take her? Why?
Westlake Village, California
Bridge Ink 