The Beginning of the End

Chapter 1

<Chapter 1>

It was a surprisingly sunny Sunday in November, when I was sitting in my little room, making faces in the mirror. My brown hair had a tinge of red in it and was thrown into a messy bun. My green eyes were scrunched up in concentration as I inspected the gigantic pimple on my forehead. I had washed my face before bed yesterday and that had definitely not been there yesterday. It baffled me that something so big and ugly could appear overnight! My oversized, navy blue sweatshirt hung off my thin frame and made me look like a homeless street monger, at least, according to my mother. I loved it though, in all its fluffy glory.

I prodded, pinched and pat but the pimple adamantly refused to disappear. When I accepted that my actions were an exercise in futility, I gave up and chose instead to seat myself on my window seat. I could see the street from where I sat, where children were riding their bikes, couples were taking a stroll and people were enjoying the rare sunny day.

I could see my mother in the lawn, sitting beside her precious lilies and peonies, drinking tea with her friend. She looked stunning accompanied by the panoramic view and the sunlight shining down on her.

She was a woman of only thirty-eight, with luscious brown hair and warm sapphire eyes. She was beautiful and the epitome of elegance. My mother, Andrea, was a pastry chef and an excellent one at that. Thanks to her, we were quite well off. She worked very hard as a professional pastry chef at the best hotel in town. She catered cakes for all sorts of events and parties. Besides being great at her job, she was an amazing mother to my brother and I. Despite being generally happy in her life, I knew she was lonely having lost her husband and my father.

 I lost my father when I was only eleven and my brother, thirteen. He was in the army, deployed in Afghanistan. We left him at the airport where he kissed each of us and promised us he would be home soon. He was wearing his camouflage clothes, hat and all. He was smiling but I could see the pain in his eyes. He hugged us all and told my brother to take care of me and just like that, he was gone. A week later, when my brother and I were fighting over the remote, the doorbell rang. My mother came out of the kitchen, wearing her stained apron and laughed at our silliness. She opened the door but she never expected who would be behind it. It was an army official who looked extremely solemn. He took of his hat and apologized to my mother who let out a strangled cry. My brother and I came rushing to the door, afraid of what was happening. I remember looking at the man at the door and immediately realizing what had happened. Tears streamed down my face as my mother hugged me fiercely. My brother stood there wordlessly, his face crestfallen. We had lost the idol, the star in our lives, our dad.

People came and told us that they were sorry for our loss but the words were meaningless to me. There was a ceremony and a funeral where everyone cried, even my brother. There were white flowers everyone, and words being said. Everything was a blur to me. I was only sad, for I had lost my dad. People told my mom to be strong and that eventually the pain would fade, but they were only fools who were making things worse for her.

Every night for a year, my mother made hot chocolate for the three of us and we cuddled into bed together, trying to make the sadness bearable.

The biggest thing I got out of my father’s death was my mother’s love for us. Things were hard for a while since my mother didn’t have a steady job then. But she never made things seem bad. She worked tirelessly till she got her current job and things became comfortable for us. She was always there for my brother and I even though her sadness, was equal to ours. She put her children before herself and catered to our every need. She tried to make our lives as normal as possible, celebrating birthdays and Christmases like nothing was wrong. She took my brother to all of his football games and attended all of my recitals. All in all, she was the perfect mom and I loved her to death.