Dear Kayden,

Chapter 4

Maverick

The doorbell rings for the second time today and I sigh, knowing I will have to be the one to answer it. Ever since Kayden's funeral, people have been stopping by around the clock to bring my mom and I meals and desserts and whatever else people have deemed appropriate to bring to the homes of those that have experienced a death. I put on a smile as I open the door, and to no surprise it is Mrs. Matthews from down the block who greets me with a pan of casserole in her hands. She's been our most frequent visitor.

"Hey, Maverick, how are you and your mom doing?" she asks, extending her arms to offer me the casserole. I take it and set it on the entrance table.

"We're alright. As good as we can be under the circumstances," I lie, knowing it is the only way to get her to leave quicker. If there is one question you shouldn't ask a person who has just experienced a loss such as the one my mom and I have, it's the infamous "how are you doing?"

"Well I just wanted to check in on you guys. Give your mom my best," Mrs. Matthews says, her eyes shining as she smiles. She's always been sweet to my family, and I do appreciate her trying to help, but in some situations it is better to just be left unbothered.

"Thank you, Mrs. Matthews," I tell her, offering the best smile I can and closing the door as she turns to walk away. I grab the casserole off of the entrance table and bring it into the kitchen, opening the fridge and trying my best to fit it among the many other meals that have been brought to us by various neighbors.

"Who was that?" I hear my mom ask from the living room, her voice tired. I walk in there to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs in her bathrobe, her hair a tangled mess and her arms wrapped tightly around her small frame. Her cheeks are colorless, her eyes dull, and the dark circles around them very evident. My mom, once such a beautiful woman, now looks so drained of life. She hasn't left the house since he died, except to go to the funeral. She mostly sulks around, but she's trying her best to maintain her status as a good mom with me. She'll occasionally try to cook a meal or watch a movie with me, but it isn't long until she loses the motivation. I usually end up telling her to go lay down, we have plenty of food from the neighbors and she needs to rest more than she needs to spend time with me, but she tries her best to be present.

I understand her pain, so I don't take any of it personally and I work my hardest to take care of things around the house so she doesn't have to. I don't usually live at home, but I've temporarily moved back in for the purpose of taking care of her. I was only a couple years older than Kayden so I hadn't been away from home too long before this. I can't help but feeling like maybe I could have helped him out or noticed the signs if I had been around more. I feel like it's my responsibility to take care of mom now that he's gone.

"It was just Mrs. Matthews dropping off a casserole," I explain to her. She nods her head in response, looking down at her feet. I expect her to go back upstairs, but she stays there looking at the ground and gnawing nervously on her fingernails.

"What's up, mom?" I ask her, taking a step closer. When she finally looks up again, her eyes are brimmed with tears. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but when she can't find the words she wraps her arms around me instead. I feel her body shake with sobs as I hold her, and it's all that I can do to keep from crying myself. No mother should ever have to go through the pain of losing a child, especially in the way that we lost Kayden. "I'm so sorry, mom," I whisper to her, but her tears don't stop long enough for her to respond.