And I saw my world crumble around me. Bricks placed carefully by ears of security, cracked and bruised, tumbled down and kicked dust down my throat.
She died.
Tense emotions in my legs rushed to my eyes, not wiping the tears until my face was a mask of salt. My neck was wet and sticky, stretched out as I gasped. I felt my arm in my sister's lap, meant to bring comfort but receiving instead.
Traveling to the door as a woman clutched my arm. Sniffling as I guided broken legs to a house empty to bursting point. Through dark hallway and dirty kitchen, we walked, leading her to a wife sobbing on her husband. She asked one too many times what? before a mouth reached her ears with a word commonplace but so unexpected.
Death.
Fingers gripped my skin, and I pressed my lips together, look away. Accusations clipped my ear, first at men and then at God. Tears rimmed my eyes, rivuleting down. An eternity passed in a moment, then two, before she finally let go, sitting on a leather couch. I went to the kitchen and looked at last night’s dinner, gave my mom a hug, then start cleaning. Dishes went in cabinets and trash in cans, distraction and helping rolled into one. More people showed up, relatives of all kinds, most oblivious to the horror that had occurred.
Sister came in, brother followed. Pulled from school and then from work. Confused, they sit on the couch, seeing crying faces all around them. When the words fell on their ears, I froze.
They screamed.
Hours merged as friends and almost-family were called. With all the cleaning done, I sat and listened to them cry. Family helped keep thinking straight as preparations were made. Lists written and checked, phones called and texted, volunteering for anything possible. A rush and a whirlwind. Somehow slow and still, blank as I wandered. We left with a brother, too tired to cook, broke down at Chik-Fil-A. Be sure to ask for Brandon—he gave us free food. Unable to stand up upon a stage and pray, we canceled church.
Day two rolled by, and it was overwhelming; flashbacks rolled past my eyes and emotions clawed their way up the hole they dug themselves. Sat with two near-orphans and dug through photos of their mother, listening to a grandma call for her baby. My mind kept telling me she was not really dead, with no explanation but stubborn refusal to believe. Driving home, the words car and accident sunk through the murk of my brain as we sat at a red light. Cars flashed by the dashboard, too fast, too bright, and I thought:
Everyone could die.
Hyperventilating, stare to the side. It was too much. Everything, everything, empath, too much. I got home and fled to my room, curl up around a ’mellow and sobbed into its green coat, two deaths and two years cascading down my face. One sentence I clung to, This was part of the plan.
Day three came ‘round and slowly, slowly, truth chipped away at my skin. Snippets of memories hit me at night, drum sets and Facebook and a younger us. Tears slowly trickled as I finally realized that she is gone, and that I missed her.
For days afterward, busy and exhausted. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally. Unable to sleep, then wake up tired and sore. Cannot think of what to pray until after five sunsets. Sang my heart out, left it in the lyrics. Louder than I had ever been, better than I had ever been. Through nature and melody put hope and trust in God. I plow on. Plow on.
These days will haunt me.
Word Count: 621
My cousin, Lily, died on August 18 in a terrible car accident. She was only 20 years old, and she had two babies under the age of two. I... could really use your prayer. My whole family could. Thanks.
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