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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Short Story About The Loss Of My Mother.

Submitted: June 10, 2013

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Submitted: June 10, 2013



Woken from a subtle, straightforward dream. My Brother shouts my name, ''Mark, Mark, there is something wrong with Mum'' I look at him, with my eyes glazed in worry, I get up from the couch and I follow him through the hallway and up the stairs. We make it to the room, my heart jumping like a hurdler, my mind thinking doom.

I walk in, my bare feet are caressed by the soft carpet. I move forward into the vincinity of my Mother, I slowly move my hand into the direction of her face, her complexion like a sheet of ice, her eyes closed and her mind pulled down like a shop shutter. She lies there not brushing against the smugness of pain anymore, her heart has bowed out, the last beat has been played.

I look on in despair, ''Is she dead'' my Brother says as he shakes, ''Yes, I'm sorry'' I say back with no potency in my voice. My Brother begins to fall into a fit of tears and rage, he doesn't know where to place his young, tarnished, broken mind. He quickly runs out of the room, down the stairs and out of the back door, into the blistering sunlight, the weather doesn't fit the anquish we both feel.

I was left to try and wipe away the tears, but I did'nt blame my Brother from leaving, he had enough despair inside him due to the loss of my Father a mere six months before. As I look on, I can see a smile on my Mother's face, it must be a smile of relief; she went through a torrid time of depression and self-destruction. She lived a life in a out of capsules of misery, she lived half her life in hospital, trying to kill the devious demons in her head.

I look on for another minute or so, I can hear the birds chirping outside. I feel that these small flying creatures should not be making a sound, they should not be chirping a melody when my Mother is lying there, I scorn them.

As I walk down the stairs, into the hallway, I pick up the phone and try to dial my Grandparents number, every number I touch feels like thumping shockwave going through my body, I try to relax but my shaking hands fail me.

The ringing tone goes on for a while, I finally recieve a voice, its my Gran that anwers ''Hello'' ''Hi Gran'' I say with no expression occupying my face ''What is it son'' ''It's Mum, she's gone'' ''What do you mean she's gone'' ''She's dead'' ''What, Oh no'' My begins Gran to fall into a fit of screams, her voice begins shudder the whole conversation, I begin to cry with her.

After the swift phone call, I place the phone back onto its resting place. I then walk through to the kitchen, and into the small dine net, I sit down and I scratch away at my skin. I start to think about the times when my Mother was well, when the demons were gone, when her mind was diluted with nothing but happiness and prosperous thoughts.

As I scratch away, I look out the window and I see my Auntie Ann's car, she leaves it to be masked in the summer shine. She then quickly fires down the pathway like a lighting bolt, her blonde locks brushing against her face. She opens the red door briskly and then runs through the hallway like a marathon runner, up the stairs and into bedroom where my Mother lies.

I make it back there, I witness CPR for the first time, Ann's lungs strained, her lips upon my Mother's, her eyes bulging, her desperation unparallelled. She was here to save her little sister, she was here to blow a gust of oxygen into my Mother's tar engrained lungs. But, there was no hope, my Mother, it seemed, was gone for hours, the angels lifted her soul when I was dreaming a dream.

The tears that came from Ann's eyes could have filled a fountain, she knew her baby sister was gone, and there was nothing left to do but phone and ambulance to take her away from the dysfunctional home. I look on, my head filled with a great deal of anquish. Ann leaves the room, tearful and cracked, I leave with her, behind her I walk like a wounded animal.

When we reach the kitchen, the back door opens again, its my Sister standing there, like a lost soul trying to find some hope, Ann tells her the news, she breaks down and cries a tune of profound despair and agony. She has lost her Mother too.

My sister and I sit on the couch as the paramedics and doctor talk over the cause of death, the sound of their voices pass me by, I become stuck in my own world, my face expressionless, my mind juiced of all its thoughts, I'm like a statue with no tourist appeal.

As they take my Mother away, I look at the bright red cover draped over her face, it looked like she was just sleeping, subtlely. We both rise from the couch and move into the kitchen, we look into the distance as and witness our Mother being placed into an coroner van, this is it, it has finally sunk in.

The van disappears, the hollowness begins to show, my eyes red from the relentless crying, my heart might need a rag to keep it tied together. ''You're going to Grans, it will be ok, we will be ok, trust me'' my Sister tries to soften the blows, I try to agree with her, but I see no way out of the pain have been embedded into, I feel like I've been locked into a submission, in the arms of a strong man, crushed to a pulp.

I walk away from the house, I look back, I knew in my heart that it would be the last time I would see the building as a living space, the cycle had stopped, it was time to dettach from a dysfunctional setup.

I step out of a car, I shut the door softly, and I look at the my Gran's house. I lived there most of my life, but this time it was different. I knew that this house before me would be my home for a while. I stroll up the driveway, and I open up the red gate, my Sister follows me in.

I walk into the house, the smell of fresh baking fills my nostrils, but I'm far from hungry, far from normaility. I walk through the hallway into the living room, I can hear the old clock ticking, the silence niggles at me like a cold sore on a pair of chapped lips. There is small man standing there, staring at the flowery wall paper, he begins to turn around slowly. Before me is my papa, his skin looks grey, his hands shake, tears stroll down his cheeks, emotion has overwhelmed him.

That moment was the first time I ever saw my Papa cry, it was the first time in years that he burst the banks. His Daughter's death was too much, he could'nt hold back. As he cried, I walked up to him and I tried to hug some warmth into his cold bones. He was my hero, and instituion of a man, one with a collective spirit.

''So she's gone then'' my Papa says in a groggy tone. ''Yeah'' I reply. ''Now its time for you to make her proud'' I nod my head, and then I look back, I witness my Gran bawling her eyes out, her eyes nearly closing due to the amount of tears shed. It was a bleak time for all of us, I was steeped in emotion, trying to claw my way out of my own self-pity.

A week has passed, the pain still burning like a lighter paired with a cigarette. We are all scurrying around trying to function, it's the day of laying the foundations, it's the day of my Mother's funeral. I try to make myself look respectable, I try my best not to get tears down my white shirt.

I try to put on my tie, it's my first time wearing one. I could'nt seem to connect it correctly, my sister witnesses me struggling, she comes over and joins it perfectly. ''Your are going to be fine son, our hearts are all broken'' my sister keeps her mascara from running, she seems strong enough to lead the flock of mourners, the parade of young and old.

I walk slowly to the large window pane, I look out and see the long car, there is wreth embroided with the word ''Mum'' in the middle behind a large plate of glass. I then look in the large mirror, I see a chubby kid on the edge, my red face blotted in spots, my hair long and my eyes red from the crying episodes. I am a wreck, I feel like I'm living on a landmine if I move I'll explode into a thousand little pieces.

''It's time to go, Mark and Jamie'' I walk out my Grans room and I walk down the staircase into the hallway, I see a colossal amount of people draped in black. Their ties like indentical twins, their hearts all remembering one person. ''You and Jamie will sit in the long car with your sisters'' my Auntie Ann says with authority.

We all get into our means of transport. I sit beside my Brother, his eyes keeping the tears at bay. The car begins to move, I put my seatbelt on and I take a deep breath, it's only five minutes to the Chapel, the place where God will sit and observe an angel being laid to rest.

The car halts, we are there. The stone temple is before me, a chapel hundreds of years old, built by the hands of faith. I lift myself out of the car, the smell of cut grass fills the air, it is May, and the sun is shining. I don't feel like May, I feel like december, cold and grey.

We all walk down the pathway and into the chapel, our hearts marbled with a sense of sadness. The place reeks of history, the window panes beautifully engraved in vibrancy, the wooden seats polished. The coffin lies at the top, there is plaque on it, that reads ''Linda Venables RIP'' I look at it and I take a moment to reflect.

I sit on the seat, and I look forward. The preist starts to talk, he honors my Mother and her life. We then stand and we sing, we sing hymns that were written hundreds of years ago, I cry tears of pain as I bellow, my heart sinking with every word. As the singing stops, I can hear the cries belting out.

The funeral comes to an end. The hearts heavy, the tears mounting up, I can hear a melody in my head, ringing, I can hear my Mother's voice. I can picture her smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee, I can see her sitting on her beloved seat that was directed to the window. She loved to look at the birds flying, she loved to watch the darkness flood the light.

Everyone rises from their seats. It's time to walk the line, my sister takes my hand and we walk out the Chapel, the sun hits us in the face, I look back and I see the coffin moving towards us, six of the strongest men carry it like it's their duty.

The graveyard is brightly lit as the sun marches through. We all stand and we look on, the coffin is lowered into the ground, tears break out yet again. I look up at the sky, it's purely blue, no clouds to be seen, I then close my eyes and I picture my Mum's smile in my head, she had a infectious smile. A light turns on, she stands there in a white robe, she then waves as she walks into the distance. I lower my head like a lever, as the preist reads out the tributes and last rights, my spine quivers and my arms surrender to the goosebumps, she's gone, and I must carry myself on.












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