We All Have Reasons

I floated through the house which I once dwelled in, once full of life and spirit seems darker.
I do not know why. I drifted up to the attic hoping to see Jo, as I ascend the steps I can hear
the tapping of Jo writing on her typewriter. This was Jo’s haven, whenever she had a spark of
inspiration, she would rush up the stairs to type it out. I used to come just to watch her
write, gets so enveloped in her craft that it’s all she can focus on. She is finally in my eye line,
and I’m shocked at the sight that greets me. Jo is crumpled over her typewriter, silent tears
stream down her face. Jo never cries. ‘Boys don’t cry’ she used to tell me.

“Oh Jo, why do you weep in my absence? I am not gone; I have not left. I am simply just in
the next room waiting for you to join me. Do not say my name with grief, you will see me
soon.” I state as if she can hear me except, she can’t and that is what hits the hardest. I
cannot comfort her; I can only watch her mourn. I continue watching her sob before she
starts to speak.
“Oh Bethy, why did you leave me? Who allowed you to leave me? My passion for life is
missing, my hope for happiness is lost and you, Bethy, are gone.” Jo cries out slamming her
fist against the table that she was laying on.