One Last Prayer

Part 2

I open the door and walk into the empty house. I catch a glimpse of myself in the oversized mirror in the entryway and stop to look closely. Have I changed? I look the same. Maybe a little less color, and circles a little darker than usual under my eyes. I contemplate how much make up could help the lack of life on my face, but that's something I've never put effort into doing. The internal change must be a lot more than what I'm seeing on the surface. When will God make me feel whole again?

I walk into the kitchen and see a vision of my mom standing at the counter. She's leaning with one foot over the other smiling, like she's been waiting for me. I remember how she always had lunch ready for me when I came home from service on Sundays. The dark starts closing in and I can see her blank stare as her lifeless body lays across the steering wheel.

Father, be my shield.

The neighbor's dog snaps me out of my prayer before it has even started with his aggressive barking and I rub my eyes. I walk to the fridge grabbing some butter and cheese, deciding on a grilled cheese sandwich.

I sit at the counter eating silently. Any second, my dad will walk through the door. That used to mean it would be time for some one on one bible study, but things are different now. My mother never forced the bible on me the way my dad did. She didn't believe in organized religion, she just knew it was important to support my father in his beliefs. Ever since she left, though, I see less and less of my father, and I hear less and less of his attempts to keep me on the path he always tried to have me on.

"You don't need to try to be perfect for God to love you." My mom had told me as she brushed through my hair. "You just need to try to be a good person, and love everyone and respect them as much as you can." I turned to look at her, knowing only what I had grown up learning during church. "But if that's the case, wouldn't all the people in the world go around doing whatever they want? Loving whoever they want? Lying and cheating and stealing?" She smiled and shook her head at me as she set the brush on my night stand. "No. Because you can't say you believe in God but not do everything you can to make the world a better place. I just don't think that one specific religion is all the way correct. But you are allowed to believe whatever you want. And I don't believe it's wrong for someone to love whoever they want." She raised an eyebrow and pulled the blanket up over my legs, leaving me to think on my own.

I'm snapped out of my day-dreaming when my dad comes through the door. He smiles  at me, looking exhausted. As he walks to the bar stool to take the seat next to me I stand and grab my plate walking it over to the sink.

"How was your first day back?" I ask not looking back at him.

I hear a small sigh escape his lips before he responds. "It was nice. How are you feeling?"

I turn back around and shrug, honestly not knowing how I feel about being back in church. I thought I would feel comforted, or like it was all I needed in my healing process, but instead I feel just as empty as before. He looks down at his folded hands and I walk past him, patting his shoulder on my way out of the kitchen.

It makes me upset to think I'm letting my dad down, but with my mom's death I've been feeling extremely withdrawn and unmotivated to surround myself with others to talk about God, when he's letting me continue my days in pain, even with all the prayers I've been sending up to him for healing.

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The next morning is particularly difficult. Though Jasey graduated last year, she is over to help hype me up for my first day of senior year. She pulls out a white top with lace at the bottom and I scrunch my nose. She rolls her eyes and shoves it back into the oversized closet. She pulls out a floral dress and I stare at it for a minute.