Pieces of Me

The next day all three of us began packing our things. Everything except for the beds, a few pieces of furniture were put away. It seemed that we were packing away memories. As much as I wanted to leave I also wanted to stay. My uncle had hired movers to help us. As we packed our clothes into our suitcase a few tears dropped from each of our eyes.

We knew we had each other's phone numbers and e-mails and we would see each other at Gerard's wedding, but we wouldn't be living with each other any more.

"It seems like we just started un-packing our things," George said sitting on my bed looking around.

"I wish this year could have gone by slower," Sophie sighed packing a jean skirt into her suitcase.

"We'll see each other," I smiled, sitting on my own suitcase

"But it won't be the same," Sophie said.

"We can ave sleep overs," George said smiling.

"I bet we can fit all of us in my little bed back home!" he said beginning to laugh.

"Oh god, we tried fitting all of us into one of these beds and that didn't work out to well, remember?" I asked.

"Cry baby," George said sticking out his tongue.

"Fine, one of you get to be my personal masseuses afterwords," I smiled.
***
I smiled as I went through my memories. Now I sit here on this bus on my way to a small town called San Jose. I don't know why they buried my father here, we lived up in San Diego. I guess it's because his mom, my grandma, was buried in the same cemetery.

If I had known Dad was buried here I would come visit him every chance I got. I must look stupid sitting here by myself in a black dress, a bouquet of flowers in my hands and smiling to myself. I went through my memories with my dad and a few with my mom. There were more good than bad thank God but don't get me wrong we did fight.

I always had a problem with talking back which I never really saw as a problem.

"I don't care if it's not fair!" he would yell.

"You never care!" I would challenge back.

"Yes, I'm a horrible father!" he would tease in a yelling tone.

'It's one D!"I said.

"And it brought down your whole G.P.A!" he yelled.

"I can get it up!" I yelled.

"You will. Go to your room, and don't bother making plans with your friends!" he said.

I reluctantly stomped up the stairs, muttering every curse would I could think of.

"No wonder mom left," I would say very often.

Looking back on it I knew it stung him when I said that. I would regret it later on but it was always my black card. But I knew I shouldn't say it. He spent so many nights crying in his room crying about my mom. She left when I was around eight, and it was strange seeing my dad cry. I always pictured him as this strong man who could do anything.

I heard the bus screech to a stop just outside the cemetery gates. This was my stop. I carefully got up, trying not to trip over anyone as I got out. I had to pick up my dress a little to get down the stairs. As I heard the bus drive off after I got out I made my way to the gates. A feeling of disappointment swept through me as I saw that they were closed and locked. A green sheet that had a lawn mowing and gardening schedule hung from them. Today was Sunday and they were closed.

That wasn't going to stop me, hell I took a two hour bus ride here and my ass hurts like hell! I'm going to see my dad today damn it! I realized that the stone walls surrounding the cemetery were only a few inches above my chest. Carefully I put the bouquet on the wall and began to pull myself onto the wall.

As I began to climb I heard something rip. I couldn't check now, I would fall if I did.

"Shit," I said to myself as I pulled myself onto the wall, now my hands were all red.

I sat on the wall and could see a huge hole in my white stalkings.

"Damn it," I whined.

I had scraped the ski to and it was slowly starting to bleed. I wiped off a few tiny rocks that had stuck to my skin then grabbed the flowers and jumped down from the wall. My uncle had visited the cemetery's website and had found my dad's grave. It was in the "Beautiful Garden" section.

All the sections of the cemetery had cheerful names. But I'm sure that's far from how anyone feels when they come here.

The "Beautiful Garden" was quite a walk from the gates but I didn't mind, it was actually very pretty here. The sun made it very warm but the flowers around the grave seemed to make it okay.

I finally came to the right section. The gates were only closed and not locked. It would open at first to I had to kick it open. I looked around to make sure that no one heard the huge noise that it had made when I kicked it. I closed the gate behind me so that no one would notice if they passed this section by.

This 'section' was pretty big, but now I would have to read pretty much every grave stone until I found my dad's. There really wasn't a reason that people were buried in certain 'sections' I guess it was only a 'space' thing. 'Where ever they had room' kind of thing.

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