She was only trying to get through her last year of school with her two best friends.
But, he came back...
Now everything is turning upside down and she's trying her hardest to stay strong, but she's drowning.
Will someone save Raine?
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The sunlight wasn't what woke me on Saturday.
The notion of it feeling like it was time to wake up was what had me slowly opening my eyes and looking over to my curtains. It was still closed, but only at the bottom. I had strategically fix my curtain to only be open at the top and not at the bottom.
The sky was gloomy. The clouds grey and the sun refusing to take a peak. I wondered if it knew what today was for us. That its presence wouldn't have enlightened us.
I rolled over in my bed. I felt my eyes burned to release the tears when I remember what we had to do today, but I pushed it back and proceeded to get ready.
Mom and I basically pulled our thick black manes back into a low ponytail- mines a bit frizzier than hers as Justus took a bit longer showering. We didn't really plan it but we wore black. I guess it was because all of us were feeling sad and wanted to show it somehow to the world.
That even though we looked fine, we were missing a huge piece of us that still grips us by the hearts daily.
Mom left the radio off as we drove to the destination. The radio didn't understand how we felt. We couldn't find a song to relate to.
We trekked through the grass, avoiding others resting as we made it to his.
My mother clasps her hands in front of her with her head tilted down as Justus rest the wreath that we got on his plot. I held the roses in my hand tighter.
Today wasn't my dad's death anniversary per se. We had three more days before it, but it fell on a weekday and mom would be leaving for a work trip that day.
Saturday would be the best option.
I wasn't ready for it no matter what day it landed on.
It has been 4 years since he died now and I wondered exactly when the pain of him going would fade away because right now it still sucks.
Yeah, I no longer cry just by the mention of his name or dad, but if you give me a little time to run with my mind and dwell on his memories I wouldn't be able to pull myself together.
My dad passed away when I was 12. He was shot.
It wasn't because of some drug bust gone wrong or some crime that he had committed.
It was quite the opposite, to be exact.
My dad was a businessman. He worked for every dime that he got and he made sure that he was the family man that his father wasn't.
His bad luck was that he wasn't the same skin color as the officer who shot him. He was black and fit the description of someone that they were looking for.
They pulled him over, thinking the car that he was driving just couldn't have been his. That he had to have stolen it. They asked for his license and registration, but when he went to retrieve it they shot him. They claimed he was reaching for a weapon. That he was hostile.
