Life..

This one's a personal piece for me about my life I've recently updated it so please excuse any spelling or punctuation errors.

 

Life. Such a small word, yet why is it that it seems to be one of the hardest ones to hold onto? Why can't we just be happy that we're here, that someone out there, be it God or the powers that be, decided to give us the gift of living, of breathing, and feeling, of words, emotions and everything else that we take for granted. Sometimes I really don't think we understand it, this wonderful thing that we have, that we'll never be happy no matter what. You could be the richest person in the world, have a huge house a nice car and everything materialistic that you could ever want and still be unhappy. Or you could live in a regular house somewhere between the boarders of not being wealthy yet having enough money to get by and have a bit of fun in life. Have a Mum, Dad, a Brother, a pet dog and a cat, Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles. It could be the happiest point in your life, yet you'll take it for granted you'll argue with your family, you'll run away from home to make a point, you'll scream and yell and destroy your room, without thinking that maybe, just maybe you may never get the chance to be so happy again, that you might spend the rest of your life with that niggling empty feeling in the back of your mind.

That one day your family will be that much smaller. That four will become three. Someone that kissed you goodnight, that loved you unconditionally will never be back. And you cry, you pray, you beg and plead and last of all you wish. And then you realise that you took it for granted. You had it all you had the one thing that everyone wants, love. And love is life. And life leaves you with a choice. You can spend the rest of your time sad and empty full of regret and hoping, or you learn from it. You can take another look at the gift of life and hold onto it with all of your might, and refuse to give in, because you've seen what it's like when someone fights for their life and looses the battle. You know just how fragile and precious it really is.

 

But just say you could look fifteen years down the track and see what you've done with that option, see if you chose the right path or not. See if that one life altering experience or the many that occurred was enough to make you a better person, would you really want to? What if you hadn't and the pain that you were feeling then still lingered with you? Sure you could change, bottle it up and hide it from the world, but would it still be there? Sometimes I wish I could go back to that one day fifteen years ago when everything started going wrong. I wish I could do something, anything to keep it all from falling apart. But then would I be the person I am today? Would I want to be the person that I am today?

 

I'll never forget the look on my Dads' face when he got the news, my Mum held him close and he held her back like his life depended on that moment. I was never very close to my Dad's Mother, my Grandmother. My Mum and Dad had spent their lives trying to protect me and my brother from the world that they had grown up in, they wanted something better for us. I was only six at the time, and my brother was eight, the thought that someone could actually die came as such a shock to me. I knew about life and death, but I never thought that it would happen to my family. I remember bursting into tears, and feeling so sad, I think it was the shock more then anything else, when I look back on it know it really was so sad. My grandmother died alone, she didn't have anyone to hold her close and tell her she'd be ok, that everything would turn out for the best, no-one to say they loved her.

 

I vaguely remember being told years later that she bled to death, and for a while there it was a murder investigation or something along those lines. But she was just a frail old lady that died alone. My brother and I stayed in the waiting room on the day of the funeral. My parents didn't want us to be exposed to something so sad at our age. So we did what any young kids our age would do, we drew and coloured in pictures, we escaped to the fantasy land inside our minds we're everything was okay and life really does go on. I vaguely remember my cousins sitting out there with us too. I don't know how my Dad's brother reacted when he got the news. Yet even then that day passed on, and not for a second did I think things could or would get worse, that I would loose someone I loved so much.

 

I think it was about two weeks after my Grandmas funeral that it happened. I've wished so many times that I could go back to that day and say something, anything to let him know how much I loved him. He knew, even though I didn't say it to him on that day, his last day, he knew. It took me twelve years to figure that one out. I was sitting in class when the teacher came and got me. They told me that my grandparents where there to pick my brother and me up, at first I was excited, I even remember someone saying as I left to tell them what happened. My Grandparents looked solemn. But I didn't see it at the time. They told us that our Mum was in the hospital but that the rest would be explained when we got there. It was one of the shortest trips I've ever taken and sometimes I wish it had gone on forever so that I would never have to feel that empty. We drove from Gawler to a hospital somewhere near Elizabeth, one that I now look at with dread and hatred. Our Grandparents walked us in and a Doctor led us into a small room, I can't remember exact details, what his office looked like or even how he told us, but those four words were enough to shake the foundations of everything that I believed in.

 

Your Father has died.

 

You will never know how deeply it hurts to loose someone until you do. You get a pain deep in the bottom of your heart and it drags upwards until you feel it tear you in two. My Dad was driving to his Mothers house to help his brother fix it up to sell it. He didn't want to go Mum asked him not to. He didn't care about the money from the house. He was such a selfless man he gave everything he had to his family, and spent his working days caring for others as a nurse. He went because his brother asked him to. To this day I still can't look at his brother without feeling strong waves of hatred. I know it's wrong to hate but I blame him he knew dad didn't want to go but he was selfish. It still amazes me how different their personalities were my Dad, Paul and his brother John were twins in every way except when it came to their priorites. Dad's was his family, my uncles was money. Maybe I've misunderstood him not given him a fair go, but I have to blame someone it's the only way I can deal with it.

 

It was one of those days that you should stay of the road in, the wind blew hard and the rain fell even harder, and somewhere deep down inside you, you know something bad's going to come of it. I've lost two people in a car crash my Dad and my year seven teacher. But the pain never goes away. Sure with time it gets a little bit lighter and sometimes you feel like you can breath again. But it's still there clawing away in the back of your mind.

 

From the moment the Doctor told us the news everything changed. People treated you differently, like you would break in two at any moment. You became a different person, you would never go back to being the same as you had been, and maybe it might be a physical change, something that everyone could see. But more then likely it would be an emotional one. One that you held deep down inside were no-one could see it for what it was and mock you, or tell you that nothing was different. But it was.

 

I always thought that I would have remembered that day in more detail. I know I was only six and no-one would expect that off me, but I'd just always imagined that it would bury its sharp talons of fear and pain inside me so that I would always remember. But I don't. I couldn't tell you when the funeral was or even when it happened. But I do remember my Dad's face that day, and that's an image I'll never be able to forget. Even though I knew he was gone, that there was no return. Somewhere deep down I was hoping that if I looked at him for long enough, then maybe, just maybe everything would go back too normal. But he was gone, replaced by and empty shell that had once been his body, there was no smile or glint in his eyes. He was pale and cold. No matter how much I willed myself to, I just couldn't kiss him goodbye, I wish I had. But I was afraid, afraid of the dead and my final goodbye. So I just walked out, my face streaked with tears that I though would never stop. It was a big funeral, there were a lot of people there, most of them I'd never seen before, and it was hard, so hard to sit there and stare at a box that contained all that was left of my Dad. I remember my Godfather picking me up and taking me to the back of the church, he held me closely as I cried. I don't think I'd ever been as close to him as I had been on that day. I don't even see him anymore; they just vanished from my life like everything else seemed too.

 

I sat in the back of a black limo, holding a red rose. As I watched his coffin sink lower into the ground I knew that it really was forever, and there would never be a return. And that was it, those were the last memories of that day I have. So for me that's were it came to an end. Yet surprisingly life went on.

 

It does that doesn't it, just when you think it's going to tear you in two, it makes you go through the motions and keep on living. And somehow you get through it, not as easy as you'd like to, there's always going to be a lot of bumps along the way. Like I said earlier, several years later my year seven teacher died in a car crash. This time I was told the news by the library teacher, definitely not one of my favourite people, and quite frankly there were numerous times I would have liked to give her a swift kick up the bum, but of course I was too meek for that. I was really happy that day too, I'd just gotten to school and things seemed to be going okay for a change. I wasn't thinking about the bullying that know doubt would occur during the day. That use to get too me a lot, I was never very outgoing, I kept to myself, and was one of those little nerdy kids that did their homework every night, yet still managed to get on the teachers bad side because I wasn't as smart as they wanted me too be, but for some reason that thought wasn't on my mind for a change. I was walking across the quadrangle when I came across the librarian. I think the principal may have even been with her and a few other teachers. She came up to me and said

 

'I'm afraid I have some bad news. Last night your teacher died in a car crash'

 

I was devastated. My mouth hung open and I felt my face drain of colour. She could have stopped there, given me some comforting words. But like I said before she was one of those people I really disliked, and I never dislike a person if I have no reason too. I think she may have leaned in a bit closer at that point as though to emphasise her next few words.

 

'You know what it's like though, you've been through this before, so you can be strong and be there for everyone else.'

 

This woman expected me too be okay and just deal with it. That because I'd lost someone in similar circumstances this wouldn't hurt just as badly. I'm not going to get into details about the days that followed; I think I've already discussed death enough in this for you to understand exactly what happens. But let me assure you of this, no matter how many times you loose someone, no matter if they were part of your family or a distant friend, it will always hurt. And it will never stop hurting, it will ease with time but the pain will remain there, deep in your heart as a reminder of those people that you held so deep.

 

And that was the end of my primary school years, they were over and gone and I would never look back on them and wish to return. I was so relieved to leave I'm not going to pretend I was ever happy there, because I wasn't. I was a social outcast and would never fit in. At times I would have liked nothing better then to fit in. But when I look back over it know I'm so, so glad I didn't. Because if I had, I would've changed into someone else, someone I didn't want too be.

 

High school came swiftly, and with it followed routine. It wasn't exactly what I'd been hoping for, but it was what I'd expected. I was still a social outcast; people still knew exactly what buttons to push to make you feel two inches tall. But I had friends, more then I'd ever had. And somewhere deep down it felt as though the gap that had been left gaping since I'd been six years old had filled up a little. As the years past I became filled up with good memories and even some more bad memories.

 

Sometimes it really felt like the bad memories would overwhelm me, and hold me in a tighter grasp then the good ones. My family argued with each other a lot and my Grandparents eventually stopped living together. That was a pretty sad time for them. But I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I feel any empathy for my Grandma. There are only two people in my life that I despise my Grandma and my uncle John As horrible as it sounds. A lot of the dramas in our life occurred because of her. I know I need to learn to forgive and forget I just can't seem to let go of all the pain they've caused. I tried to like her, but when you get to seventeen and your Grandma still makes you cry then enough becomes enough, and I drew the line. You may still think me a horrible person for hating my flesh and blood, and I may be. But if you knew that women like I do I imagine your feelings would be quite similar. Our family has been ripped in so many different directions because of her lies and deciet. 

 

And then one day things got better for us. It had been about ten years since my Dad died. It was one of those days when you couldn't be sad, because someone you loved was finally getting a bit of happiness in their life that they deserved, and you looked at them and felt that gap in your heart fill up even more. My Mum got re-married. I know I could have been angry about it, the whole someone replacing my Dad. But it wasn't like that. No-one would ever replace my Dad. But this guy could be a part of our family, especially when he made my mum so happy. That was all my Brother and I had ever wanted her happiness. And she had it.

Sure not every day will be a holiday, there will still always be arguments, tears and pain. But when you realize that you have the gift of life and know that someone you loved didn't get the full chance they deserved you learn to look at the good days a bit longer then the bad ones, because the good days are the ones that really count.

 

Life… 

 

Author's Note

This is mostly written for my Dad I miss him everyday but I'll never forget him.

Reviews

[Jmartins]

This is a really good story.. I really like it.. i mostly don't rad long storys mostly poems but this one i couldn't stop reading it... you did a really nice job. Keep up the good work...