It was a nice tradition. We would go to the park on Saturdays and play, then we would go to lunch and have ice cream.
I remember thinking, I never wanted this to end. But it did end, all of it and soon, it was nothing, but a fading memory lost within the changing wind.
All my tears had dried. Lillian should be here, but she was not here. Flipping through memories in my head, I felt as if I were drifting within a cosmic graveyard of sorrow.
It was pointless, hopeless. Reminiscing would not bring her back. I could still imagine her body, lifeless and pale.
I felt shivers run through my spine. Is she here? Could she see me? Was she proud?
Grief was an odd thing; one moment a quiet whisper, the next a deafening roar. A numbness washed over me, my mind a chaotic jumble of everything but my sister’s death, the chirping of crickets, the smell of rain, the distant sound of traffic.
The pain was so debilitating on some days that I questioned whether I had the strength to continue. Sometimes, the thought of joining Lillian seemed tempting; we could be angels together, free from the chains of sorrow.
Would I ever escape these chains?
I must stay strong. I had to muster courage; Lillian would want me to thrive, not to cry. Yet, when the lights dimmed, all that remained was a desolate bleakness, silence swarming around me like an unwanted shroud.
Her smile haunted my dreams. I sometimes thought I saw her outside my window, a fleeting glimpse of the sister I had lost.
With a sigh, I moved toward my closet,pulling out my graduation attire. I slipped into a simple knee-length white dress and a pair of heels, then draped my robe over my shoulders, hesitating to place the cap atop my head.
It all felt surreal. Despite everything I had endured in the past few years, I had made it. I had done this on my own, without my mother’s support. She had chosen her drugs over me, sinking into the depths of a restless loch from which I could not rescue her.
There were moments I wanted to give up. But I didn’t. I had survived, and I was damn proud of that.
Yet I still yearned for Lillian. I needed my big sister, but she was long gone.
As I approached her door, I peeked inside once more. She lay on her bed, eyes closed, lost in sleep. I snorted derisively. Typical. She would rather catch up on rest than witness her daughter graduate.
Turning away, the dejection hung heavily in the air. A growing sadness clawed at me. I wanted my mom back, to see her cheer and clap as I received my diploma.
But that moment was lost to me. This only happened once, yet there was no support to be found.
This would likely be one of the last times I would see Caiden, and strangely, that thought brought me a glimmer of happiness.
I was tired of living in fear and grief; it was an exhausting existence. When I finally left, I would leave all my memories behind. A fresh start, devoid of anguish, worries, and visions of death.
I paced back and forth outside my mother’s room, glancing inside Lillian’s once more. The room, stripped bare and covered in sheets, felt like a ghost town. Dust collected in the corners, and a shiver crawled down my spine.
Home no longer felt like home. It felt like a graveyard, a mausoleum for my lost loved ones.
In the moments leading up to my departure, I wrestled with my emotions, caught between wanting her to be there and knowing I lacked the words to express it.
Eventually, I surrendered to the moment and left.
The school parking lot brimmed with families, laughter and excited chatter swirling around me. My heart sank a little, a bitter tang of jealousy rising like a dark shadow within me.
I imagined my sister crawling from the grave, running toward me with open arms, or my mother arriving to mend my shattered heart.
But they were mere daydreams, and the reality deepened my pain. I craved belonging, familiarity, love.
Yet, with every breath I took, that hope withered.
After shoving my way through the crowd, scowling at mothers and daughters who seemed so blissfully unaware, I finally reached the designated area.
As the moment arrived for us to line up toward our seats, cameras flashed, and names were called out. Various speeches filled the air, some inspired me, while others left me bored.
Finally, they began calling names. It felt like an eternity under the sun, its rays beating down on us mercilessly.
