They awoke, the floors creaking under them as they rose from what seemed like a minute's worth of sleep. The exasperating sun shining into the house, shining too bright. This was the day. They day they would finally put her to rest-- well not as much put her to rest, this funeral, memorial, whatever this was that they were having was just as much for them as it was for her. She had been gone for months but this was the first time they felt well enough to say a final goodbye. They had not spoken a single word of her since-- well you know. They just never knew what to say. The days got so routine. Wake, walk and walk, eat what little they had, and sleep. They simply never had enough energy to discuss such a heavy thing.
The boy had thought about her constantly since. Would he end up like her? Give up like her? No. He had answered it for himself, he wouldn't allow himself to stop. He had to keep trying until he had no more will left. He didn't want to live but he was too scared to die. His papa on the other hand, seemed to lose hope more and more every miserable day. The boy would catch his papa looking at his frail body with the most saddened eyes he had ever seen. His papa hated seeing him like this, knowing that he would never have a normal life as a child, instead a tiresome attempt at surviving for who knows how long until they would finally come to the end.
They got up in silence. They had briefly discussed the idea of a funeral. It was the boy's idea. He had always felt disconnected from his mother in a way he couldn't explain. And when she left, he just felt numb. He didn't cry. He knew it would happen sooner or later.
They made their way to the bunker in the house they had found by miracle. It had more food than he had ever seen. His father was going to teach him how to make some things. He was more excited than he ever remembered himself being. Even being such a small thing excited him. Simply learning how to make things was never something he got to experience.
They got everything they had together, organizing it to resemble a normal funeral. They had few things as decorations, which included some wilted flowers they found, a cross they had put together with some sticks, and a very few other things. Their attempt at making some kind of casket was not very successful but it was the best they could do. They knew they were not actually burying the woman, so instead they chose a few things to bury in her honor. The items included a locket that she wore, a rock with her name engraved into it, and a wrinkly picture which was falling apart that was taken years ago.
They wanted to make her proud. They tried their best with what little they had to work with.
They had made all of the food, and spent their day making make-shift decorations of whatever they could find. They got everything together without so much as a word the entire day.
As the day went on, he felt more emotions and feelings he had never had the energy to think of.
How could she leave them all alone? Was she a bad mother? He had nothing to compare to. He began to wish he had had a normal life, like the one's his father told him of. A normal family with a dad, a mom, some kids, and even maybe a dog.
They looked over the things they had done over the day. So much for a funeral. It wasn't what she deserved. She deserved the world, not this world she ended up in. I didn't deserve it either. Neither did Papa.
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He was paralyzed watching his father bury what should've been his mother. It was like he was burying his pain, but instead of going away it seemed to be coming to the surface.
If I die would you bury me like that?
You won't die.
Yes I will. You keep saying I won't but I will. Everyone dies.
No. You need not to talk that way.
Why? I don't want to live. I wish she would've taken me with her-- taken me to death.
I SAID TO STOP! You will not speak like that. We will be fine. Don't ever speak of that ever again.
He looked at the place where his father had just stomped away from. The casket was buried a few feet under the ground.
Why did people get buried in the ground like that? He didn't know. Just another thing he would never know the answer to.
There it was. His father shutting down again. He wondered if his father wanted to die. He sure did. He didn't know how much longer he could go. He wanted to be with his mother. Why shouldn't he? What was he waiting for? It will end at some point.
He made his decision. He wasn't awaiting the train of death again. This was over. He was going to be with his mother-- in peace.
He picked up the gun from the ground where his father had just left it. It still held one bullet-- one single bullet that his father had kept for months. Maybe this was fate-- one bullet left for him.
His hands shaking furiously, he lifted it. He looked around for his father-- and he was nowhere to be found. As he brought it to his head, he started to imagine his mother in heaven. That would be him, he would finally be with her again.
This was it. He was done. He couldn't do it anymore- this-this merry-go-round with death. He had no more will left to do so.
This funeral had lifted so much weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. But with it left a huge feeling of emptiness in its place. WIshing- no longing to be with his mother once again.
This was his calling. He was calling him to her.
Goodbye, he silently said to himself as he pulled the heavy trigger.
He chose death before death could choose him.
