Hopelessly devoted to you
Guess mine is not the first heart broken
Heart failure sucks.
I know, it's pretty common, but you'd never think it'd happen to someone you know.
Specifically one of your folks.
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket...
Two days ago, Dad was singing that while making breakfast. It seems like a couple hundred decades ago. His funeral's tomorrow.
So now at school, I'm not The Gay Boy. I'm The Boy Whose Father Just Died.
Never let it fade away...
After school, I come home and open the door. I hesitate. It's dead silent in our home.
Two days ago, Mom and Dad were dancing to the songs on the radio. They did that every day, from morning to night, between chores.
But now it's just... Quiet.
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket...
I call for my mom.
"Hello?" I say. "Mom? Are you home?"
As I come closer to my mom [strike]and dad[/strike]'s room, I realize it's not silent. My mom is sprawled out on her bed. Soft music is playing. The songs that Mom and Dad used to dance together to.
Is she breathing?
I o over and check her pulse. Yep, she's alive.
In one fluid motion, she grabs my wrist, sits up, and shouts off into nowhere, "Alan?"
Then she realizes nobody's there but me.
A tear falls down her cheek, then one falls down mine. Just seeing her torn up like that absolutely kills me. In the figurative sense.
Save it for a rainy day...
She sighs, turns to me, and says, "I'm sorry. I thought you..." The rest of her sentence hangs in the air. Were your father. She sighs again.
"Can you bring me some ibuprofen? My head hurts so badly..."
"Of course, Mom."
"And a couple Kleenexes?"
"Sure."
I return with three Kleenexes, two ibuprofen, and one glass of water. I'm just glad she didn't have me bring something else, 'cause I'd have brought four of that. I'm like, minor OCD here.
My mom doesn't realize I have problems.
Actually, she does, she just doesn't choose to believe it. She always tries to make me something else. For instance, instead of wearing what I like to wear to school, Mom had me wear the stuff she always buys for me. Today it was a green and white striped A&F polo over a white undershirt, and Hollister jeans and Pumas. (She likes the prep style.)
Fortunately, my boyfriend Maximillian (you can call him Max, but only if you feel like dying) is the same size as me and wears what I like. (Skinny jeans and band tees.) I also have a spare pair of Converse in my locker, one of his old pairs that he grew out of. They're a little tight but it's OK. Yeah, I'm a total emo kid. Well, I suppose I'm more like scene, because I don't cut myself. And won't- it's just disgusting. I just like the clothes and the music.
But today at school, some random chick (I think she said her name was Elspeth or something, and she was a freshman) saw what I was wearing, Maximillian's clothes- she's a total emo kid like me, except she cuts herself- told me that she feels sorry for me about my dad and would I go out with her? I just smiled, and in the most polite way possible, completely blew her off. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her I was gay and with Maximillian. I don't even think she knew my name; I think she just knew me because of my dad. I had never seen her before in my life.
The phone rings. I see the caller ID before I pick it up. It's Maximillian. Mom knows we're together, it's just another one of those things she doesn't want to believe so she can tell herself I'm a normal teenager.
I answer it and shake my hair out of my face. "Hey." Maximillian returns my greeting. I pull my chapstick out of my pocket and apply it. Hmm. Almost gone. I'll have to buy more soon.
"Hello, Earth to Zack. I just asked you something. Are you using your chapstick again?" Maximillian questions suspiciously.
I sigh. "Yes." I always space out whenever I'm putting on chapstick. Who knows why.
"Okay, put your chapstick away. I'm gonna ask you this one more time. Where's your dad's funeral at?"
"Pedersen-Grismo. Right here in town."
"I know where that is, okay. That's 4PM then?"
"Yeah."
"Good. My parents are thinking about taking you and Kay" (that's my mom's name) "out to dinner after the service."
"I have to respectfully decline your invitation, seeing as my mom's probably not going to be in any shape to go out. Just you and me?"
"Sounds good. I'll check with my folks. But I gotta go. Love ya."
"Love you too. Bye."
We hang up.
I know, it's pretty common, but you'd never think it'd happen to someone you know.
Specifically one of your folks.
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket...
Two days ago, Dad was singing that while making breakfast. It seems like a couple hundred decades ago. His funeral's tomorrow.
So now at school, I'm not The Gay Boy. I'm The Boy Whose Father Just Died.
Never let it fade away...
After school, I come home and open the door. I hesitate. It's dead silent in our home.
Two days ago, Mom and Dad were dancing to the songs on the radio. They did that every day, from morning to night, between chores.
But now it's just... Quiet.
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket...
I call for my mom.
"Hello?" I say. "Mom? Are you home?"
As I come closer to my mom [strike]and dad[/strike]'s room, I realize it's not silent. My mom is sprawled out on her bed. Soft music is playing. The songs that Mom and Dad used to dance together to.
Is she breathing?
I o over and check her pulse. Yep, she's alive.
In one fluid motion, she grabs my wrist, sits up, and shouts off into nowhere, "Alan?"
Then she realizes nobody's there but me.
A tear falls down her cheek, then one falls down mine. Just seeing her torn up like that absolutely kills me. In the figurative sense.
Save it for a rainy day...
She sighs, turns to me, and says, "I'm sorry. I thought you..." The rest of her sentence hangs in the air. Were your father. She sighs again.
"Can you bring me some ibuprofen? My head hurts so badly..."
"Of course, Mom."
"And a couple Kleenexes?"
"Sure."
I return with three Kleenexes, two ibuprofen, and one glass of water. I'm just glad she didn't have me bring something else, 'cause I'd have brought four of that. I'm like, minor OCD here.
My mom doesn't realize I have problems.
Actually, she does, she just doesn't choose to believe it. She always tries to make me something else. For instance, instead of wearing what I like to wear to school, Mom had me wear the stuff she always buys for me. Today it was a green and white striped A&F polo over a white undershirt, and Hollister jeans and Pumas. (She likes the prep style.)
Fortunately, my boyfriend Maximillian (you can call him Max, but only if you feel like dying) is the same size as me and wears what I like. (Skinny jeans and band tees.) I also have a spare pair of Converse in my locker, one of his old pairs that he grew out of. They're a little tight but it's OK. Yeah, I'm a total emo kid. Well, I suppose I'm more like scene, because I don't cut myself. And won't- it's just disgusting. I just like the clothes and the music.
But today at school, some random chick (I think she said her name was Elspeth or something, and she was a freshman) saw what I was wearing, Maximillian's clothes- she's a total emo kid like me, except she cuts herself- told me that she feels sorry for me about my dad and would I go out with her? I just smiled, and in the most polite way possible, completely blew her off. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her I was gay and with Maximillian. I don't even think she knew my name; I think she just knew me because of my dad. I had never seen her before in my life.
The phone rings. I see the caller ID before I pick it up. It's Maximillian. Mom knows we're together, it's just another one of those things she doesn't want to believe so she can tell herself I'm a normal teenager.
I answer it and shake my hair out of my face. "Hey." Maximillian returns my greeting. I pull my chapstick out of my pocket and apply it. Hmm. Almost gone. I'll have to buy more soon.
"Hello, Earth to Zack. I just asked you something. Are you using your chapstick again?" Maximillian questions suspiciously.
I sigh. "Yes." I always space out whenever I'm putting on chapstick. Who knows why.
"Okay, put your chapstick away. I'm gonna ask you this one more time. Where's your dad's funeral at?"
"Pedersen-Grismo. Right here in town."
"I know where that is, okay. That's 4PM then?"
"Yeah."
"Good. My parents are thinking about taking you and Kay" (that's my mom's name) "out to dinner after the service."
"I have to respectfully decline your invitation, seeing as my mom's probably not going to be in any shape to go out. Just you and me?"
"Sounds good. I'll check with my folks. But I gotta go. Love ya."
"Love you too. Bye."
We hang up.
♠ ♠ ♠
It's sad.But I had to start a story, I just HAD to.
And Pedersen-Grismo is a slight name variation of where my oldest brother's funeral service was held.