Another inspired by a writing prompt. I think losing a family member is one of the worst things that can happen - someone you've known your whole life (or most of it), who has been there with you through /everything/ only for you to walk into a room where they /should/ be and they aren't? I pray for peace for all of you who have to go through that. I'm so so sorry, and I'm here for you. —————————————————— Draft: 2 Writing time: 1 hr. Tone: Melancholic, wistful, nostalgic Inspiration: writing prompt .......................................................... I almost throw the diary away. I don’t even know why I opened it —why I let myself dig through the box in the back of my closet, the one covered in dust, the one I told myself I didn’t need anymore. I was just looking for my old tassel from kindergarten graduation, a stupid tradition Mom and I used to do. But then I saw it—my old, beat-up diary, pink with little silver hearts, the lock long since broken. There I was, cross-legged on my old bedroom floor, reading the words of a girl who still believed in promises. "Dad promised he’ll never miss my graduation!" I wish I could tell little-me that coffins don’t get invitations. The handwriting is messy, smudged with the rushed excitement as I scribbled it out. I could see it, me squealing and dancing around in my pajamas. “Will you watch me when I graduate?” I could hear his laugh, ruffling my hair and squeezing my shoulder. “Of course, kiddo,” He had said. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Wild horses. That’s what I’m thinking about as I sit beside Mom, who’s stiff as she’s been for the months since he was gone. As if she was too cold to move, as if he took all the warmth with him. Sometimes, I think he did. Mom doesn’t look at me, and I don’t look at her. I know what she’s thinking about. I always do. Moving on wasn’t something we did. We didn’t dwell but we didn’t stop thinking about it. Wondering. The whole auditorium is a blur— cheering parents, camera flashes, flowers clutched in proud hands. It’s strange, how loud everything can be when there’s nothing left inside of you. I hear names being called, footsteps crossing the stage. My heart is beating in my ears and my fists clench around my gown, nails biting my palms. I don’t want to walk up there. I don’t want to hear my name. I don’t want to take the diploma. Because the moment I do, it’s real. The moment I do, I’ll have graduated. Dad will have missed it. And wild horses didn’t even have to try. …………………………………. Later that night, I sit in the driveway, back to the garage. Mom is in the house behind me, sleeping on a bed that still feels too large. I flip back to the page in the diary. I run my fingers over the words, like I’m trying to memorize them with my fingers. And then, in the same tiny space beneath my credulous childhood handwriting, I press my pen to the paper, bleeding it black. “You promised.”
“ you’re on your own, kid. yeah, you can face this. " - taylor swift
