Prologue

It was a hazy Sunday in August and as the sun hung in the sky like a fiery gemstone rarely spotted in these parts. I gazed out of my bedroom window across the emerald fields that darkened with every passing cloud. For once, I wished for rain. Rain that would leave its trail writhing down the glass pane, dripping off the sill. Greying clouds that would descend onto the expanse of green that lay before me, covering the hilltops.

I loved the summertime. I loved the feeling of that soft warmth on your face, the smell of your skin after being out in the sunshine. Walking through the cool streams, skimming pebbles and stopping under a tree to eat a feast of sandwiches, fruit and chocolate biscuits providing they hadn't melted or been eaten secretly by our sheepdog, Bethie. But not this day. That day I didn't want the sun to shine, I didn't want to know that there were people out there enjoying it, dangling their toes into the river and laughing over sausage rolls.

Maybe it seemed selfish of me, wishing everyone was as miserable as I was. That they were all sat indoors in over-sized jumpers, smudged mascara around their eyes, biting their lips so ferociously that they were starting to bleed. I always bite my lip to try and fight back tears. It very rarely works. This day was no exception. As I bit down and tasted blood, my eyes became hot and tears fell before I could stop them. It was hard to believe this was all real. I knew it was going to happen but I had never imagined what it would really be like when it actually did.

I wasn't alone in this, not for a second. I had plenty of people around me. It's strange how lonely you can feel even when your life is filled with people, however. And besides, I didn't want to speak to anyone, I didn't want anyone to see me cry. I would only ever cry in secret. I couldn't deal with the inevitable questions about how I was feeling or if I needed to chat. I had had twelve missed calls on my phone off my best friend, Alistair but I had no desire to return them. He had left voicemails but I didn't want to hear his voice at that moment in time. Every couple of hours or so, one of my three elder brothers would take it in turns to quietly knock at my bedroom door but would leave soon after when they received no reply from me.

I was lost. I wish I had prepared myself more for this. It wasn't just a bad dream anymore. It was happening. It had happened. I didn't know how to feel, what to say. I hadn't spoken a word since the previous evening, not even to myself. My throat felt like it was swollen, nothing would come out anyway. So I just sat there at my window, tears running silently down my face, watching the shapes in the clouds and trying to pretend that none of this was real.

But it was very real. That was the day that my mother died.

Reviews

[zainul]

Very realistic feeling of a daughter whose mother was dead.
There is no replacement of the vacant space in the heart of any person who lost her/his dear ones like parents.
Thank you Becki for sharing the sad write.