Take Two

13║Acceptance

T H I R T E E N;

Acceptance.

I’ve always had a hard time trying to grasp this concept.

After I broke up with my first boyfriend I had cried for a week straight, binging on ice cream and silly love movies. Granted, I was only thirteen and I know that I shouldn’t have taken it that hard- especially when I still had a life filled with pointless relationships and awkward kisses to look forward to; but for some reason in that moment that one break up felt like the end of the world.

When I finally crawled out from under my blankets it took me a while to realize that I no longer had a boyfriend; no one to kiss or send silly text messages too.

It was absolutely brutal to watch all of my friends walk through the hallways with their boyfriends, holding hands and looking so happy- although I would bet money that all the couples that I was so envious of have probably broken up now.

Once I finally did come to terms with the fact that I was the single friend, I had a whole other things to learn to accept- my ex-boyfriend dating someone else. That took another two weeks of tears and more than a few tubs of ice cream before I was ready to face him again.

I was still learning to accept the fact that I was an only child now. It was hard to go from, ‘Oh, you’re Mark’s sister’ when people learned my name to ‘I heard about your brother, I’m so sorry for your loss’. It was even harder to walk by his bedroom door, knowing that it would be eternally shut.

And sometimes, for the first few seconds after I wake up, I can almost pretend that Mark is still alive. That he is fast asleep in his bed, late to wake up for school as always. It wouldn’t take long for the realization to set in that my brother was not going to wake up- that he wasn’t asleep in his bed and then the reality of my life would hit me like a slap to my face.

Needless to say I wasn’t good with acceptance. I still hadn’t accepted the fact the fact that my brother was dead- sometimes I closed my eyes when I heard the doorbell ring and wish for a few seconds that it was my brother standing behind the door telling me that his death, his funeral, everything was all a prank. Only it was never hi.

Even if I wasn’t ready to accept the fact that Mark wasn’t coming back, life went ahead and hit me with a brand new thing that I had to learn to come to terms with- the harsh reality that my parent’s relationship was done.

I realize now that they probably weren’t going to get back together, but that still doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. Mostly because with my parent’s being separated it made Mark’s death so much more real.

It reminded me that my life wasn’t the same- that my perfect family wasn’t, well, perfect.

Yet I still couldn’t help but sit on my mother’s bed- watching as she tried on different dresses to get ready for her first date with a man that wasn’t my dad.

Mum twirled around in front of her floor length mirror in a red sundress, she slipped on a pair of black flats and turned around for my opinion- her hands on her hips as she waited.

“Too casual.” I murmured, cocking my head towards her closet- this was my signal for ‘next one’ which had been created after the first five dresses that she had put on.

Our little routine carried on for another thirty minutes before the doorbell rang and my mother stood in front of me wearing nothing more than a very shocked expression.

“I wasn’t expecting him for another twenty minutes.” She choked out, looking around her room at the mess of clothes on her door. “Oh my God Zoe, what am I going to do?”