The sun came up like a rose. Anticipating a cold gray January morning where the day opens in pain.

The morning air carried a chill but no frost. So there I was. Just me and my grandfather. Well, his body anyway. I was so shocked that I really couldn't be in the moment. Maybe that was for the best. I somehow managed to make a very crucial decision despite how I was feeling. Now we lay you down to sleep, we pray the lord your soul to keep Compassion, love, desire for you, our feelings remain always and true so as your lay in your peaceful rest, your a true grandfather one of the be stand after you pass and leave this cruel place, and when the tears have all fallen from my face Ill keep you in mind and live for you, because i know you'd do it for me too Ill tell your jokes, they'll bust out in laughter i'll love you forever, even life after so as i speak these words with pain, my love wont be lost only more to gain and as you spend your last hours with me, Ill tell you "I love you" and let you be free The stone steps are wet and slippery in the morning rain. My black hat, mom insisted I wear, tilts forward covering my eyes. I take careful steps not wanting to trip in my black heels,mom also insisted. People came to greeted me as soon as i stepped off the stairs and onto the muddy well-kept grass. I did my part in the ordeal. I smiled and nodded and thanked people for coming and paying their respects. All I wished to do was see my brother before he left us. Through the cluster of people around I saw two people. When I laid my eyes on them my heart jumped and I quickly walked toward them. When I reached the two teenagers I, smiled a warm bright one.I said sounding relieved. "Eddie, and Emmie."I stood there calm and quiet after that. Emmie looked up at me. She tried to smile but just could not reach her goal. I put a soft gentle hand on her arm and nodded in understanding. Emmie turned her gaze toward me. She was short for her age so she need not look up nor down. She sighed and smoothly said. "Melissa, I am unsure how you are feeling but I know it's worse than me and he was my boyfriend,"She stopped and we took a step toward each other embracing in a warm hug.She continued,her head on my shoulder"I loved him so much.He had so much ahead of him."I patted her back soothingly. I wanted so badly to whisper comforting words but could not bring myself to it.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. I look up at Eddie and give a weak smile. I see him mouth the words,I love you, i mouth them back and smile. Emmie looks up and nods a small thanks to me.I smile back and hear my mom calling everyone. Here comes the grief. Every one gathers in a circle of warmth and sadness. Starting the procession my mother speaks, "Eric, was a wonderful teenager. He was everything Marty,my husband, and I had wished for. Then came along Melissa and it was the dream family. There was nothing to wish for. Eric had perfect grades, a wonderful girlfriend, a brilliant sister and a best friend. All his life he wanted to be a cop,he was against drunk driving and now I hope others follow in his path on stopping drunk driving accidents!"My mother struggled to continue.She sobbed and sobbed. I quickly stepped up and thanked every one for coming and led my mom away. Ounce we were safely out of hearing range i looked at the mess that is my mother. You'd think at age fourteen I wouldn't be comforting my mom, she'd be soothing me. I look into her sea foam colored eyes and think how different she is from my dad, brother and I. I shrug it off and give her a warm,yet cold, hug. I sigh deeply in sadness and grief. My mother creeps her head up to look at me. Self conciously I take my hand and brush my dirty blonde bangs behind my ear. The understanding look in her eyes show a hint of fear. I can't help but give her a regretful glare. Pain and hate fill in her eyes. She leaves my arms and walks back to the group, standing tall and confident. As I watch her go i roll my eyes. I stand by the old oak tree. I lean my weight against the hard cold bark. I sigh in dissapointment. I watch my mother solemnly. She acts so strong, I think. I lift slam my fist against the tree bark shaking my head to myself. I take my hat and spike it in anger. As I walk around the tree it looks like i'm leaving a hole where I was. I lean on the backside of the oak where i'm not visible.I slide down the hard surface falling to the wet, muddy grass. My head thumps back despairingly against the tree. I let out a sniffle. I let out a deep breath. I hear some leafs crunch nearby. I close my eyes and look up not bothering to see who's standing near.

"You don't look very happy."Says Elijah. I answer in a scoff.His untanned arms held up defensively. I turn my head, still on the tree and say"Well what do you expect? My brother and your best friend just died!" Not waiting for his answer I getup and storm off.Being fourteen it's difficult to get around places. In the pouring rain I decide to walk home. I quickly tiptoe down the staits and onto a road leading through backstreets. Not having a coat has it's downsides. I have lived in Oregon all my life, so I am pretty cool with rain, except in a dress. I hold my hands up to my arms and rub them back and forth, feeling the raised goosebumps forming fast and eager on my arms. I shiver slightly and pick up my pace. I turn a corner and start jogging. The mixture of me and having anything to do with fast walking, it'll always turn into a run. So I sprint, all the way home, my heels giving me no trouble at all. I HAD TO WATCH HER SUFFER. I had to witness her burn, her flesh melting away from her face, forever locked in a terrified expression, jaw open, screaming even in death. You may think that this would cause a lot of trauma for me, as I am just a high school senior, on the brink of graduating. But I had no reason to complain about anything. What was coming was worse than watching her death. And little did I know that I would see her in exactly seven days from the hour her body went limp, the second her screams faded down to the flicker of the fire. The world went silent. It seemed to shrink around her. The message played over and over again in her head: The message ended in a crescendo of shouts before a deafening, low sound crackled over the line. Then all went silent. "End of messages." Her hands shook. She wanted to know what had happened, but she was afraid of what the answer might be. She was sure of the result, even without the letter in her hands to confirm it. A wife just knew. It was the gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of her stomach and the heavy feeling in her heart. It was the feeling of absolute grief and uncertainty - the feeling of 'what if' and 'what now'. The knot in her throat ached and her lips quivered, but still she was unable to scream or to cry. To break down would be to admit that it was true. It couldn't be true. She couldn't let it be true I am weightless in this water. It consumes me like I dont exist; it takes me as its own. I become the ocean, drifting here a nd there between shattered bits of memory. I wore my best dress for this occasion. My blue surroundings tug at the white material, setting it around me in a way that transforms me into a coryphe. I gaze down at my feet, drifting over a beautiful vast nothingness. The salt water stings my eyes and scalds like acid in my throat, but something about it only adds to the faultlessness of this moment. I stare down at the sopping strip of paper between my fingers, barely able to make out the headlines anymore. Apparitions appear in the water, veiling my vision but bringing a soft smile to my lips. Theyre close now. I can feel it. I float patiently, my face now breaking the surface. I only take a small breath of air I dont feel the greed to fill my lungs completely. I am slowly inching into my fate into my decision. Who is there to rush me? A day later but not any calmer, I feel a dreadful happiness that she is no longer in pain. She is with her mother, brothers and parents now. She must be laughing in glee with her long black hair (showing no streaks of white). She must be the God she believed in her entire lifetime. She must be able to speak again. She must be watching over me. However, any and every good memory of her hurts more and more. I feel tormented by what I could have changed. I regret not kissing her swollen cheeks or hugging her the last time I saw her. My eyes sting from unshed tears. My throat is sore from all my silent screaming. My chest is left with a gaping hole that will never be filled. Maybe time will heal wounds, or maybe this will forever be a scar; but I long for the day that I recall joyful memories of her and smile instead of hiding alone and crying. Birth and death have some similarities. They both are monumental occurrences that change your life forever