Numb

I plop into the heavily cushioned chair in my living room and start to go into deep thought. I look at everyone’s emotions and how they are dealing with the news. They are quiet, fiddling with their fingers; it just seems like they had already mourned over it, and that they didn’t care. “Did it not dawn on you guys that he’s actually dead? How are ya’ll not a wreck like I am right now? How are ya’ll not a fireball emotions destroying everything in your path,” I question. Burying my face into the pillow resting on the chair, I start to cry, letting out tears, punching the cushion, yelling and screaming. I feel like I’m the only one who thinks that there should be some type of sadness or grieving that should be going on right now. But no, nothing. No one but me sheds tear. I throw myself back onto the chair and make eye contact with my mom. Suddenly I realize what is taking place… They knew, they knew this was coming. They kept it a secret, hoping that I wouldn’t find out, trying to save me some heartache. Crushed, I start to look around the room trying to meet everyone’s eyes. “How could you guys keep this from me?” They see it in my eyes that I’ve found out, and look down, trying to avoid the guilt I am pouring out onto them. I slide down onto the floor, put my head into my chest and start to cry again. Once I get my emotions back under control, I manage to force out my question through my multiple sobs, “How’d he die?” There is a long silence, so I decide to break it, “Really you can’t even tell me that,” my eyes drill into my mom’s, “I deserve to know that don’t I?” Finally she speaks up, “I’m sorry Carter, we just couldn’t tell you! It would’ve killed you; you would’ve been depressed for months. You would’ve been a wreck. I couldn’t have lived with you being like that. Sad, wor-.” “Tell me what happened,” I try to say calmly, but it comes out as a yell. “Cancer son. Cancer did it to Pop.” I run upstairs to my room, and see the picture frame  on my dresser which shows a photo of Pop holding me in his arms. I remember that picture, he said that that hug would never leave, and that he’d be be there forever. Both of us have a smile ear to ear, it was his favorite picture of us. My little ten year old heart can’t take it. I grab the picture and kiss it, then I put it face down and jump into my bed. I wrap the warm wool covers he made for me around me, and imagine it is Pop’s hug. I quietly cry myself to sleep, and pretend he’s still here; here to hold me forever, like he said he would. I promise myself that I will always keep Pop’s presence with me, and pray to God everyday to check in on him. I promise myself all of this just to keep him with me wherever I go. His death becomes numb.