Six Feet Under The Stars

The wake was little more than I expected it to be. People mourned the loss of my mother while eating finger food from the buffet and sipping champagne. It was supposed to be a celebration of her life my father had said; it was what she wanted. My mother never wanted people to cry at her funeral and I when I looked over to the huge table of flowers I sighed deeply remembering what my mother had once said, ‘flowers are for the living.’

“You okay?” I turned to look at my brother with a grimace.

“I really wish people would stop asking me that,” he smiled weakly at me before putting his arm across my shoulders. “I’m hardly going to tell them the truth am I now?”

“And what exactly would be the truth?”

I shrugged stiffly once and glanced down at our father. He looked so calm, so relaxed and almost happy. I knew he wasn’t happy but the facade he had on was convincing even to his own daughter; my father knew how to put on a brave face he had been doing so for 10 years.

My brother shook my shoulders lightly and I sighed turning back to face him, “Honestly I feel like a part of me is missing and not just some silly part that I don’t need to survive, I’m talking vital organs here.” Letting out a shaky breath I gently fingered the framed picture in my hands, “I just miss her so much.”

I was pulled into a tight hug the picture of our mother digging into my stomach slightly as we embraced. I sniffed to rid myself of any tears before pulling away and smiling at him.

“You’ll be fine; we’ll both be fine it’ll just take a little time that’s all,” he said before standing up and beginning to descend the stairs.

“Colby,” I called quietly catching his attention before he could get too far. “Thank you.”

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Motor Neurone Disease or MND as it is abbreviated is a progressive neurological disorder that destroys motor neurones, which are the cells that control muscle activity such as speaking, walking, eating and even breathing. It is progressive and gets worse over the years before it finally claims your life; just like it did my mothers.

She had been ill for a long time and we knew that her passing was inevitable but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to lose her. I was very close to my mother; at least a lot closer to her than I was my father. I could tell her anything and know that she wouldn’t judge me, I knew that she would always give me the best advice she could and that she would always love me no matter what; just like a mother should.

I’m not saying that my father wouldn’t do all those things but I couldn’t help thinking that he’d begin resenting me because I looked exactly like my mother.

“Bracken would you please eat something,” my father mumbled softly from the head of the table as I messed about with the food on my plate. I wasn’t hungry, I hadn’t been hungry in over a week and I was sure that I wouldn’t be hungry anytime soon.

I had completely lost my appetite.

“I’m not hungry dad, sorry.”

I wasn’t sure why I had apologised but it felt like I should. I guess it was something to do with the way my father had looked at me; just like he thought I was going to waste away within weeks. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t eaten anything I just hadn’t had anything substantial and had been living off water more than anything else. I knew I couldn’t stomach much else.

Colby had been handling his eating habits a lot better than I and had already scoffed down two helpings of dad’s pasta.

I stopped playing with my food, excused myself from the table and retreated to my room. I flipped the light switch and turned on my computer before walking over to my window and closing my curtains.

My room hadn’t changed much since I was seven. I still had pink wallpaper adorned with glittery fairies and my lightshade still matched it along with my bin and washing basket. I also still had the same white wardrobe and dressing table and my carpet was still the off white it always had been. The only thing any different about it really was the pine computer desk that now saw in the corner and my shelves that were filled with CD’s.

I knew I needed a change but that was so much hassle.

When my computer had finally started up I took a seat at the desk and logged into my emails. Bombarded with condolences I deleted all the messages that weren’t from my friends before starting to read them, oldest first.

Hey Bee, I’m sorry to hear the news.
Take care and if you need someone to talk to you know where I am.
Ly x KEN.

I smiled at Kendra’s email before opening the next one. They all had the same content and I thanked my lucky stars that my friends seemed to know me better than I had first thought. I didn’t bother to email them back knowing that they wouldn’t have been expecting it and logged out again before closing the machine down.

It wasn’t late, far too early for me to consider going to bed but there was nothing for me to do anymore. I had always been the one who would look after mother in the evening, I would feed her and keep her company, I would put her to bed and watch her sleep before going to bed myself. I couldn’t do that now because she didn’t need looking after anymore, she was gone, gone forever.

I didn’t think that death meant the end of life entirely. I didn’t believe in the afterlife but I did believe that on some level my mother would still be around to watch over me and make sure that I was safe throughout my own life. I was sure that death didn’t spell the end for anyone completely.

“We have that test tomorrow; you should set your alarm for about seven,” Colby suggested poking his head around my door frame and smiling at me carefully. I nodded and moved over to my bed to grab my alarm clock. “Are you nervous?” he asked me.

I didn’t really know if I was nervous or just simply anxious to get the test and it’s results over with. I think I would have been more nervous if my mother hadn’t prepared me for the worst when I was nine.

“Not nervous, I mean I’m not happy about it or looking forward to it but I just want it to be over and done with,” I explained and he nodded letting out a sigh. “I’d rather not know though to be honest; I mean who wants to know they’re going to die like that?”

My question was rhetorical but Colby had a response anyway, “Bracken, I don’t think anyone wants to know they’re going to die period.”