Memories

The Christmas tree shines brightly from the corner of the room, illuminating everyone faces. Colours seem to bring hope in such a dark time. He only has so long. Same with her. We all know that each second that passes puts them in a worse position, but trying to ignore that, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. I pet my dog and stare around the room, seeing the smiles on their faces as they pull at the wrapping paper. My attention is quickly brought to the other side of the room where I hear laughter. A grin slides across my face, seeing two relatives play tug of war with a box of chocolates. They never seize to amaze. 1

Soon after the joking stops and the chocolates are passed around, I hear my name being called. I run up the stairs, as happiness fills everyone faces. This tradition was mostly to remind me I'm important, but I love it none the less. Everyone waits for me downstairs as i grab the bell carefully from my aunts hands. I wait a few minutes to build up the anticipation, and then ring it will all my might. The family files up the stairs and thanks me for letting them know that dinner was ready to eat. I would usually feel stupid doing something like that, but it was my family, my best friends; Around them, I only feel loved.2

Everyone takes a seat around the table, holding hands. I can even feel a certain pet laying on my feet. We say thanks to god for such a wonderful meal and then silently pray to ourselves that we will be together for at least one more day. When I look up from my plate, my eyes lock with my grandmothers. She was the one who let me sleep over last night, and wake me up early so we could walk to see the sunset before we arrived home to eat the hard boiled eggs my grandfather made me. No matter what my parents say, I think she will always know who I am. She loves me just as much, if not more, than everyone else in my family.3

Snapping out of my day dream, i look up from my cell phone. I just got a text from my latest Ex. It said something like, "I was praying with someone for about three hours, probably more... It was really cool! I know, I know, chruch stuff.... But still, she has major, major issues. They would probably be around equal to your life issues.. maybe. Alot to do with family, but she knows everything is in Gods hands, so she knows it's going to work out!!" or at least thats what was seen in my eyes.4

I hate memories. I hate them because they remind me where I am now. And he just made me remember. I want to scream, but my best friends sitting next to me. I suck it up and do the one thing I know how to do. "Thanks asshole! I really needed to be told I had major life issues. That made my whole fuckin night! and don't ever talk to me about god. EVER." I click 'send' and walk upstairs. I stand at the sink alone, picking up a dish and dipping it in the soapy water. I start to scrub like a maniac, closing my eyes and trying to hold back the tears that seem to be unleashing. 5

My uncle wraps his arms around me, laughing. His pills are kicking in and hes falling asleep, but he tries to hide it by tickling me. I'm squirming all over the place and finally get free of his arms. I run across the room with a smile on my face, before i turn around and see hes fallen onto his side on the couch. I scream and my aunt comes running, checking if hes okay first, she turns to me and tells me hes just sleeping. 'Will he just be sleeping next time?,' I wonder to myself.6

Opening my eyes, I blink the tears away and stare out the window above the sink. A month after that night, God took them all away. My grandma, my uncle, my dog. Rinsing the dish and putting them it the dish drying rack, I only want these memories to go away. I step away from the sink and go to my room. Lying in bed, I throw my face into the pillow and try to compose myself,closing my eyes once again.7

My Dad says my mom only drinks to forget the funeral. I cry in front of him, hoping he will hold me and say he's here for me, but he looks at me like i'm contagious. It could be because my mom and I left bruises on eachother; We should never have fought like that, but she hit me first... like always. My tears pick up their speed in front of my dad once i start thinking I've discouraged him from ever talking to me again. He stares for a minute and then walks away, as if he thinks crying is for babies. Maybe thats all I am to him; a baby. I can't move, because i seem to be stuck to the floor. Looking up to the ceiling, I pray to God for only two things; to keep my lost loved ones safe and to help me greive, help me to feel better about myself and my life because thats all I really needed.8

I sit up from my bed wiping more tears away. As the sadness turns to anger, I pound my fist against the desk. I can still remember to this day, that the next 6 months of my life we're the loneliest and most depressing time of my life. My family shattered more and more each day after that. I had 2 more funerals after the initional ones. I was foolish to believe in God. He didn't help at all. All my friends stopped talking to me. Rumors had started about stuff I didn't do. My mom drank herself drunk each day, my dad couldn't stand to give me the time of day and my aunt and grandfather we're too heart broken for me to be around. Adding to that, my brother became abusive too; I still haven't lost the memory of the day he pushed me onto the ground and kicked me in the stomache again and again. I was alone. Completely and utterly, alone.9

I go downstairs to where my friend is and pretend nothing ever happened. No tears could be seen. I grabbed my dads laptop and did the one thing i needed to do before I cried myself to sleep once again; wrote a story about how my family first started to fall apart and why that killed my faith.