The First Awakening

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She was an Angel, she looked like an Angel. She had beautiful porcelain skin. She had a few brown freckles that went from one cheek over her nose and to the other cheek, which she always tried to hide, but I liked them. Her eyes were my favorite memory of her; they were an earth green but changed to blue green and sometimes hazel. Her hair was long. It touched the middle of her back and was a thick brown with hints of blonde. I remember she would let me brush it as she sang me ryhmes, some she knew and some she made herself. I didn't comprehend what love was then but I knew she was my mom and I did love her.

She was watching me that day when were on vacation, but dad was working in his study. We were at the family cabin. It had been built four generations ago and our families have met there every winter ever since. My mom's sister and her family were supposed to come too but she had been diagnosed with stage four cancer and had died a month after the trip was planned.

My mom took it really hard. She would stay in her room all day. At times I wouldn't hear a peep and other times I'd hear her sobbing. So my dad decided we should go on the trip instead of cancel and mom agreed willingly. The snow was so beautiful that winter.

I remember it as if it were yesterday. I had brought my favorite red, toy fire truck into the living room to play by the warm fire as I watched the snow fall on the lake that was at a distance. That was my favorite room because the one wall that looked out on everything was complete glass that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, it looked like you were outside without being outside. That's when I looked up. Her eyes caught mine through the thick glass as she smiled at me.

She looked like an Angel. She kept walking without shoes, without a coat yet she didn't look cold. All she had on was her white, long, silky night gown that had sheer sleeves. I kept watching as she kept walking out towards the lake. She looked so peaceful, so beautifully hand crafted as she stood at the edge of the lake. I didn't understand it then.

I turned my head sharply as I heard my dad scream out "NO!" He darted out of the house with no coat and no shoes either. I sat there crying while the wind swept the snow into the door my dad left open. I came out crying and wanting my mom to hold because I was frightened. With tear filled eyes I watched as my mom sank into the lake and my dad too late to save her dropped to his knees as though he had became paralyzed.

His head dropped into his hands. He heard me whimper, "Mommy?" With big eyes he looked back startled and started crying even harder. I think that's the only time I've seen him cry. He picked me up and hurried inside. He sat me by the fire, ran into another room, grabbed a warm blanket and wrapped it around me. He told me later on that I was as blue as a blueberry. After that it was a blur. The police coming, the funeral, everything just kind of flew by as dad raised me by himself. He loved her like I've never seen anyone love another.

We enjoyed our lives together, my father and I. We would still take trips up to that cabin keeping our traditions. We stopped going once he became sick with alzheimer's disease. It hurt to watch him fade away, to watch the disease consume his body like a plague covering the land. I became the owner of that cabin, and I continue to take trips down at the same time every year.

When I'm really down or I feel like I need to get away, I go back to the same cabin. I stand at the edge of the lake with the cold winds embrace on my face. Something about the smell of cold pine mixed with crackling wood is serene. I stand there and close my eyes and just listen, it's a loud silence at first but grows more quiet the longer I stand there. I know they aren't here but I feel closer to both my mom and my dad when I come to this place.

"Daddy?" A little girl with big blue eyes tugs on my coat. "Mommy said dinnah is weady."

"Okay Angel" I say as I picked her up. "Let's get you inside to get you warm. You want some hot chocolate?"

"Yes! With marsmewos!" She said excited, with the cutest little voice.
My family has been my strength and I will love them as much as my family loved me and more. Pain made me stronger by accepting it and letting it go. This tradition will go on forever, love will be forever.

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