That Christmas

This is dedicated to my cousin Mak for being there for me. She helps me through so much and I can talk to her about anything. So yeah. Love you Mak. <3

I'm doing this at the beginning because it would make the end kind of, I don't know what word to use. You might get it once you've read this. I think I should mention that the things that happen in this story have NEVER happened to me, so I'm sorry if it sounds weird. I'm going with stuff that people have told me and things I've seen in movies. I was listening to Lamentations Of The Heart by Philip Wesley when this came to me. I don't listen to that genre of music usually, but it started playing on Pandora when I listened to Lady Gaga and I fell in love with it. <3 LISTEN TO IT.

I couldn't find the actual song on YouTube, so I'll put the MySpace link in the external link area.

The YouTube video is Where'd You Go by Fort Minor. It has nothing to do with the story, but I love the song. And here I am rambling... Sorry.

So, I hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think of my writing maybe?

This isn't my best work, just so you know. -___-

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I was only fourteen when it happened. It’s something I wouldn’t wish upon even my worst enemy. My father, my rock, my favorite man in the world gone before my eyes; and my mother, the sweet, caring woman who was everyone’s second mom, dying in my lap.

You’re probably wondering what I’m going on about and to tell you the truth, it was the worst day of my life… But it led to one of the best things in my life. Maybe I should start from the beginning, since you’re probably confused.

It was a snowy day in December. December 20th to be exact, also the first day of Christmas break. My father was driving and my mother was in the passenger seat with me in between them in my father’s pickup truck. We were driving across town for our annual family sledding trip at Morgan Hill. Every year my father, mother, and I would go to Morgan Hill sledding for hours in our snow gear, enjoying family time, and drinking hot chocolate that mom had brought for us.

We were singing along with the radio to Christmas songs I had heard numerous amounts of times in my fourteen years. My mom had a beautiful smile plastered on her face and I noticed how every time my dad looked at her, his smile grew wider, which seemed impossible. My parents were probably the happiest couple in our small town of Noelle; population: 700 people. They were loved by everyone in town and known for volunteering anywhere and everywhere. Father was a firefighter and my mother was the only vet in Noelle.

I looked back at my mom; her beautiful, wavy, blonde hair shining in the sun’s light, her green eyes radiating love and happiness, her perfect smile brightening everyone’s day, and her perfect face that was admired by many. Then there was my father with his brown hair that reached just above his bright blue eyes that showed joy and hope, and his perfect smile that was contagious. My parents were both good looking people with slightly tanned skin and healthy bodies. I looked like my mom, but with my dad’s eyes and smile.

I had a close relationship with my parents unlike most children my age. Never could I take them for granted. That’s why this had such an effect on me. I remember it clearly, the last words my father spoke to me, my mother’s bruised and battered face, and how peaceful they looked in their caskets at the funeral. It still hurts to think about and I miss them like crazy, always will. I’ve learned to accept the fact that they aren’t coming back so it isn’t as hard. Not one day has gone by where I haven’t thought of them and the good times we had together.

“Jingle Bells” came on the radio and we were singing it at the top of our lungs when everything went wrong. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, just like in the movies. Our pickup truck was going through a four-way. A green van was speeding and didn’t stop at the stop sign. It was headed right for the front of our truck and the last thing I remember was my mother grabbing my right hand, my father grabbing my left, and them holding hands across my lap.