The Serrated Edges of My Heart

Why is it that the sunniest days always come at the worst imaginable times?

Why couldn't the weather match my mood?

A down pour of rain, thunder loud enough to hear across the country and lightning to come down and kill me.

So badly now I wanted to die.

To be with him again.

I prayed, Please, God or Allah or that guy with the huge stomach, please, bring the lightning down on me.

Nothing.

Mom put her arm around me and I looked up at her.

She was crying silent tears that fell down on the black lapel of her suit jacket.

No rain.

Just the bright sun, the sweltering heat that mixed the sweat with the tears, the congregation of people, and the closed casket being lowered into the ground.

No one listened to me when I said that he wanted to be creamated and have his ashes scattered along the English Channel, if he died before he had ever gotten the chance to swim it.

Not that there was much left to be creamated anyway.

Not after what they did to him.

I shuddered at the thought and buried my face into my mom's shoulder, trying to erase the painful images I'd been surpressing for the past few weeks.

So much blood...

A heavy flow of tears cascaded onto my mom's jacket.

So much fucking blood.