Dear Diary

Chapter 62

"My mom apologized for saying what she did and I forgave her, but it didn't change the fact that I knew I was the reason he died. I fell into a horrible stage of depression that lasted two years," I went on to say as Cole sat silently in front of me. 

I shrugged as I looked down at my hands. "Maybe I would have been better off if my whole family hadn't changed after that. We moved to a different neighbourhood, my dad began working longer hours, my mom became overly paranoid about everything, and because of that my sister got married and moved out the first chance she could and me ... I had a complete personality change."

I rubbed a stray tear away from my cheek. I could feel Cole's questioning gaze on me, but I didn't lift my eyes from the tabletop. "I went from being the overly-confident, brave diva daughter to a girl who could hardly speak in front of her friends," I explained.

"Diva ... daughter?" Cole looked at me dumbfounded.

I sighed. "Yeah, I used to love singing and performing in front of people. I even used to throw a tantrum when I would find out I had to perform with someone else in a play. I was on a very high horse. But ... then when Seth died, I guess a large part of me died with him. I barely spoke to anyone, and because of that I lost all the confidence I had. But the main thing was that I never looked at a motorbike again. I grew so scared of them. Even now after seven years I still refuse to get on one."

"So what made you change away from ... I mean, you seem happy," Cole spoke quietly.

"When my parents realised that I was depressed, they grew very worried. My parents don't believe in psychiatrists and anti-depressants - I was only eleven. Instead they figured I needed to get my mind off of my thoughts and they bought me a little Doberman pup."

"Dobey." Cole said and looked at the dog lying by his feet.

I hummed in response. "Although he helped, I was still extremely depressed. I spent most of my time in my room. Then one day Richard heard of a women's group meeting at the church and suggested I go. I was thirteen at the time. That was what actually helped. In that meeting I let all my feelings out. I hadn't cried in two years before that day. Afterwards, one of the lady's spoke to me, saying how much my words moved her and offered me a chance to help her talk to some orphaned kids, explain to them that everyone feels pain and that it was okay to cry and ask for help. It was then that I realised I wanted to be a missionary."

"So ..." Cole began, "all those months ago, when we were talking about pain-"

I slowly nodded my head. "I've had my fair share of it."

Cole frowned. "But how does asking people for help ... help? They can't bring someone back."

"No, they can't," I agreed. "But they help you see things through a different perspective. You know the saying, 'The Lord works in mysterious ways'? Well, I never understood why he took Seth until two years later when I went to that meeting. Because if I had never become so horribly depressed, I never would have gone to that meeting, and probably never would have found my calling to minister God's word."

Cole frowned. "It seems a bit extreme, though. Don't you think?"

I shrugged. "That's why they say 'mysterious', I guess."

"But I've been to your house. I never saw pictures ..."

"My mom's best way of dealing with something is to ignore it. She grieved for Seth, but when we moved house, the family pictures never went back up. We just sort of went on with our lives ... as though he never existed. I didn't like that, but as the years went by, I found that I also started to think about him less and less," I sighed. "That's why I make a point of going to the cemetery once a year to visit ... because I'm so scared that if I don't I'll-"