Goodbyes Last An Eternity

- Goodbyes Last An Eternity -






By, Jassmine Nicole
Grade 10, 3/6/15
Final Edits Made, 5/18/15






Life is cruel, though I suppose it's life's job to be harsh and realistic. Like how summers exuberant life fades and withers, as harsh snow falls and kills gentle flowers. It's unfortunate and sad, but nothing can be done to sway the ways of the universe. This man before me was successful in life, but he let that slip like water through his fingers. He let his family become buried in the ruins of what he had done, what he hadn't done, and what he had promised to do; and he will resent himself for it.
Sitting in his truck, late in the night, you'd think he'd change his mind as most people do. He took one last look in the mirror and cursed his tired reflection, hating what he had let himself become; weak, pathetic, miserable and angry. The rifle sat in his lap, a venomous reassurance of a way to escape his troubles. He had planned this for months, and there was no point in prolonging it now. The high was starting to fade and he couldn't take the sobriety that began to creep into his veins, the hard truth of his life and his faults. Downing his last beer, he threw the can to the floor of the truck and took a deep breath. He shakily lifted the rifle to the level of his face, and stared down the barrel. Can you imagine that as the last thing you would ever see? His hammering heart and bloodshot eyes couldn't persuade him this time. His eyes widened, and then closed quickly. He steadily put pressure on the trigger, as a life time seemed to pass. Then, with a final, shuddering inhale, he pulled it once and for all.
The sound of a gunshot ringing through the neighborhood went unheard as the denizens slept, though it was a harsh, resonating sound. It echoed off of every wall and bounced off every roof, starling the nesting birds and putting a ripple in the absolute stillness of the night. Late in the lessening darkness, stars shown defiantly twinkling in the sky, fighting to stay visible to the world, to stay alive in a metaphorical way. Despite the beauty and calm of the warm night, people would soon awake to a tragic scene. The body of a middle aged man sat slumped in the drivers seat of a truck, blood splattered on the windows and leather seats. What was left of his face showed his age progression due to substance abuse and sleepless nights from stalking demons. The left half of his face was obliterated by the shot, the bullet was lodged in the back of his skull. He lived his life, and tarnished it. I shook my head in disgust, not from the carnage but from the thoughts behind the action itself. I contemplated how I should approach this situation, irritated by ones such as this. It was the same story every time: someone becomes depressed, they think life isn't worth living and that's it. A body hanging from a closet, some empty pill bottles on a bedroom floor, or something more gruesome. A naked body in bloody water, the sound of the blade hitting the ground shakes your core. Then there are times like this, when someone gets the gall to shoot themselves, which I never understood. It's messy and loud, but I do suppose it's far more painless than most ways.
It is far too complex, the thoughts in someone's mind when they have the audacity take their own life. They can't truly describe how useless and ugly they feel. How they feel the sun doesn't shine for a reason anymore, how death is more comforting that the thought of breathing, and how they feel the world has forgotten them completely and whole heartedly. Suddenly, in mid thought, I turn and see the mans soul gazing through the driver's side window. He looked right at me, our eyes met and it seemed that seeing his own dead body wasn't enough to faze him in the slightest, so my irritation fumed as I approached him.
"....what happens now?" He asked wearily. He looked me up then down, and he seemed confused. I wasn't wearing a cloak, because I am not in fact a skeleton with eroding flesh or fire in my eye sockets. I seem to be an average man, a stranger in the street amongst a crowd, I blend in . The only thing unusual about me is my large scythe against my back.
" ...is this a dream?" He questioned in a daze, slightly concerned.
" No sir, this is all too real. Walk with me would you?" He shrugged and followed me at my side. What did he have to lose? He was dead.
We walked in silence, neither of us really thinking conversation was necessary. He was dead and I was doing my job, and that was all. We saw police cars and ambulances rush past us, lights flashing, sirens blaring and he looked away with a sudden twinge of remorse. His mother had probably called them by now. The sun had by this time begun to show, peeping from the horizon like a mischievous child and though we had never caught wind of it, a scream had woken the neighbors and they had made the call.
" How do you think she feels? Your mother I mean. Having to call and report the death of her...second child? Your sister died in a car crash, yes? I wonder if she blames herself, out living both of her children, not just the one. I wonder if sh--"
" Enough....that's...please...I've heard enough." He interrupted me quietly, running his hands through his hair in agitation and rubbing his face. He looked so pathetic that I felt awful for him for a moment. Sympathizing with how he couldn't see he'd had a wonderful life and incredible opportunities, but he threw it all away, and for what? I said nothing and I obliged his request, we then continued on our journey in silence.
We arrived at a rather unpleasant apartment complex and he stopped abruptly. He cringed, he knew what he was going to see. We traveled up the three flights of stairs that led to our destination, the dank halls reeking of unknown and filthy, grimy smells. Arriving at a door marked with a thirty three, we entered the room. Unbeknownst to the cluster of people in the living area, we saw and heard everything. On the couch sat a little girl, about nine or ten years old. She was still but a child and she seemed scared and confused. Probably because she didn't know what was going on, though she knew it was something scary. The ride home was full of panic and anxiety, her mother frantic and the little one's insistently repetitive question of
' mommy, what's wrong?'
Her grandparents sat on the couch across from her, silent and forlorn. The grandfather seeming distant as usual, and the grandmother was watching the girl with a nervous, maternal angst. A few silent moments passed, and the door then slowly creaked open. The mother of the little girl walked through, pale as a ghost seeming tired and absolutely crushed. She sat down next to her daughter. The mother calmed the girl and tried to cease her panicked questions as she continually asked, ' what's the matter mommy?' The mother finally hushed her, sighing as she held her daughters hand with a gentle grasp only a devoted mother could have. She avoided her daughters eyes, for is she looked into those pools of innocence, she couldn't be strong. Then she spoke with a fragile voice, on the brink of tears.
" Sweetie, Daddy...well, he's...dead." Her voice shakes steadily as she tried to be brave and recover her composure. "He died today... because..he...he shot himself. I'm so, so sorry."  She continued, here her voice gives out in a choked, hushed whimper and silent tears fall from her eyes.  
At first, the little girl gave her mother a quizzical look. After she let the information sink in, she sat quietly. The world seemed to stop altogether in her heartbreaking moment of silence, uncharacteristic of this most small and hyper child. She was smart, but still very confused. She was old enough to understand what death was and that it was permanent, her pony had died when she was littler. Yet, she was not wise enough to know that it had taken someone she had loved. Her chest began to hurt like a caving wall was crushing her small heart, and her lips trembled as a sudden rush of devastating tears streamed down her round face. She shook her head, pleading with herself that it was a trick, a lie, payback for all the mean things she had said about her father since he and her mother had been fighting. She had hated him, and her last thoughts of him were how she never wanted to see him again and that she despised him. Now, she'd give her very breath to see his face one last time, to prove to her that this was an illusion, to punish her for hating the only person who had treated her as his own. With this monumentally heavy anchor in her heart, she collapsed on the floor and sobbed and sobbed until she couldn't take it anymore. The family soothed her as she whimpered in her mothers shaking arms.
The man with me, the girl's step father, remained stoic and silent. Eyes sharp, I sighed and dragged him outside by his collar. I was furious, and I couldn't comprehend her admiration for this pitiful man. He wasn't what she thought he was anymore, he was no hero and certainly no superman, and that further angered me. A wise man once said " A child's life is like a piece of paper, on which every person leaves a mark." This girl was more like a newly built wall, strong, and ready for all the beautiful marks of the world. So far, as of now, it was graffitied by the harshest of experiences. I was ready to berate him, tell him he's a terrible father and person and shake into him that he just destroyed his family's lives. But I didn't, because there he stood. From the shadows into the sun light, I could see him. Tears flowing from his eyes and he trembled. He looked right at me, with his eyes pleading desperately.
" Will she...do they both...hate me? I..I'm sorry." He moaned, crying even heavier than before. Crying with the might of a wounded creature, he grieved. He collapsed onto the ground, rocking with his knees drawn to his chest. Frustrated, I sighed heavily and sat next to him.
" Of course she's going to hate you, and sorry won't fix this. Honestly, I hate you right now and I have dealt with more despicable men than you." He looked stunned, but seemed to understand my bluntness.
"But you know something? This will make that girl so much stronger. She will hate you, miss you, love you and curse your name all at once, for years."
" This is a shitty pep talk..." He pouted, holding my cold stare. I held up my hand to interrupt him, my face hard with anger.
"But," I added. " she will know how lost and awful you felt, she'll feel the same at times. She'll become depressed, anxious, a bit paranoid perhaps...thinking that it was her fault. That everyone will leave her, just like you did."
" This isn't any better." He interrupted me with angry eyes, his voice rose slightly. I still remained harsh. He looked furious, good.
" And she'll probably hurt, the way you did, closing herself off and detaching from her feelings.  Then she'll pray to you, that is, if she still has any ounce of faith after this. And if not, can you truly blame her? She'll be begging for you to save her from herself.. and the mother... how awful she'll feel that she can't understand how to heal her own child...she'll feel so helpless and she'll cry...they'll both cry together, for each other and somehow, for reasons I will never be able to fathom, they'll cry for you..."
" JUST SHUT UP. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND." He screamed. Infuriated and only slightly sympathetic, I snarled in his ear.
" Oh, I understand plenty. All because you were weak and you gave up. You caved, and left them, to suffer and mourn. You didn't get help when you could have, you had many chances to make things right. You could've saved yourself, but you were too proud. Worse, you let them all down and can't take it back. It's. Too. Late." I said coldly, shoving him forward harshly. He froze, falling to his knees, devastated. It was a despondent sight
" You took more lives than your own today, and I want you to spend the rest of your pitiful existence remembering that."
As he began to argue, he vanished. As with all people after death, he will remain in purgatory until his true fate is decided. I figured I had one more thing to do, as a civic duty and to appease my mind as I went back into the building.
***
The child woke up the next morning, groggy and miserable. Remembering that her daddy had died, she tiredly dragged herself to the living room, but what was the point? Daddy was gone, and she would never see him again. She had cried herself to sleep, the dark circles under her young eyes made her look much older than she was. She glanced up at the clock and noticed something weird. The hands hadn't moved since yesterday, they had frozen at 5:47 pm. The time she had found out about her father last night.
" Is that you daddy? I miss you." She began to tear up and sniffle. " I read lots of ghost books, is that really you? Why didn't you just...y'know...posses teddy instead of the clock?" She smiled weakly, trying to be funny in a cynical sort of way, her new found process of coping.
" Will you come back? I'm sad, and mommy is too...why'd you leave me? I know you and mommy fought, but...we love you. I didn't mean anything I said...I.. I was just mad." She suddenly cried softly with her hands held against her face to catch her tears. I approached behind her, putting a hand on her shaking shoulder.
" He can't come back, but remember he loved you, very much. It was just a mistake. Adults mess up much more than they like to admit." I said. She looked up at me and smiled feebly. This kind of exposure is against my jurisdiction, Angels of Death don't show themselves, it's risky for our reputations and how people view death itself. So I broke the rules, what would they do, kill me? I doubt it, because I'm the only reaper. She just needed to know that everything would be okay. Kids always have a hard time understanding that you can't have a rainbow if you don't wait out the storm, they're just too young. Her father scarred her, so she has already begun to build walls around herself. To hide herself from the world, to barricade herself from pain. I just want to try and break those walls for her a bit, shed some light for her in this darkest of times. Though it will be a rigorous process, I'll do it. Even if it takes me an eternity.