Poetry and small stories

Flowers

I hate flowers, and mother knows. So why is she bringing me flowers? I ask her, she ignores me. Why? I follow her, talking, and being ignored with a head shake from mother. What was with this woman today? Then the door bell rings, my mother jumps slightly, caught off guard.

I watch her walk past me, not looking at me, and open the door. Sister walked in. She moved to another state, so why is she here? I watch her hug mother, and telling her it will be okay. Confusion creeps up on my face. What is going on? Mother starts crying. I watch worried, I never saw mother sob like this...so...broken. Mother still held a bouquet of red roses in her hand...Sister suggest to get going, but where? They ignore me, no matter how much I ask them what was going on. As I walk with them, I recognized the rout. It was the rout to the cemetery...Did father die...? 

Horror shows in my face, as I see my name graved into stone. It wasn't father who died, It was me.