Taken Too Soon

• Teanna James, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2009

Life is cruel, life is a heartless dictator. It fills us up with happiness only to rip the rug right out from underneath our feet. It hangs us up by our ankles causing us to see the world in a different way. It makes us suffer until we are left with nothing and no one besides another in the same situation.
"My wife, Amber, was a bright and happy person. She could always see the happier side of life even when she herself was in the gloom of everything. She could make people smile with just a word."
But if I thought I was angry at the world and filled with grief, then just looking at my father tore me up inside.
He was a broken man, an empty soul. The only emotions that crossed his face anymore were agony and sadness. This world was dead to him, but one thing remained in his that was worth living for. Me.
He stepped down and took his seat back next to me, the tears were freely streaming down his cheeks. This meant one thing- my turn to speak.
I stepped up and looked down at all the people who had gathered here today to bid my mother goodbye. I looked at my father surprised to see his steel-blue eyes were locked on mine.
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Trying again I managed to find my voice.
"My mother was the one person I knew I could always go to for help, no matter what the problem, I knew I could speak to her without it ever being awkward. I was luck enough to have spent my whole life with her watching over me. And I know that even though I can't hug her anymore, that I can't cry on her shoulder anymore or listen to her read to me; I know she will continue to watch over me and all the people she loved." I choked out a sob and was unable to continue.
Holding my hand to my mouth I rushed back to my father. The second I was seated he wrapped his arm around me and let me cry my tears on his shoulder.

It was later, when the night sky mixed with the day.
My eyes were red and dry from my continuous stream of tears. I hugged my legs close to my body as the fire crackled beside me.
I kept imagining my mother coming up behind me, trying to scare me like she did countless times...before it happened.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I wanted her to come back, but she couldn't.
That's when I heard his prayers. My father was next door in his room praying. Even though the fire was crackling, I could still hear him over it.
He was praying for us. He was praying for our safety, our health and for my mother to find her way to the Lord. That he would keep her safe because my dad couldn't anymore.
But above all else, he prayed for me.
For the first time since the accident, I smiled- but I didn't know why.