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Lost
I'm standing here in the cemetery, right in front of my mother's grave. She's gone now, moved on to the other side. It's been seven long months since she left us. It's a sad feeling, one that never really goes away. Every time I miss her, I find myself drawn to this place. It's like a ritual, a way to feel close to her again. Today is one of those days. The sky is overcast, matching the heaviness in my heart.
A little distance away, there's another group of mourners. They're huddled together, their sorrow palpable even from where I stand. It's a stark reminder of the cycle of life and death. Another soul has departed, leaving behind a void that can never be filled.
Life, I think to myself, is indeed cruel. It gives us moments of joy, of love, of happiness, only to take them away. We, humans, are so temporary, so fleeting. We're here one moment, and gone the next. It's a sobering thought, one that makes me appreciate the moments I had with my mother even more.
I don't know how long I stood there, lost in my thoughts. When I finally looked up, the group of mourners had already left. The sky was dark, heavy with the promise of rain. I knew I should head home before it started pouring. As I walked towards the cemetery gate, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and lilies. It was a smell that was all too familiar, one that was inextricably linked with this place.
Suddenly, a soft sniffle caught my attention. Not far from the freshly turned mound of dirt, a small boy was sitting on a bench. He couldn't have been older than six. He was clutching a worn teddy bear, his little legs dangling over the edge of the seat. Tears were streaming down his dirt-streaked cheeks, each one a silent testament to his grief.
I walked over and took a seat next to the little boy. “Hey there,” I said softly, “is everything okay?” He glanced up, his big eyes filled with surprise, then quickly looked down at his scuffed shoes. He hugged his teddy bear even closer to his chest and shook his head. “I'm waiting for my Momma,” he whispered.
My heart felt heavy, a familiar ache settling in. “That's a very special teddy bear you've got there,” I commented, trying to offer him a gentle smile. He nodded, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand. “Momma gave it to me,” he said, his voice quivering. “She said it would keep me safe.”
I didn't know what to say. The small mound of earth, the lingering scent of flowers - it all painted a picture I understood all too well. My own mother had been laid to rest just like this, not too long ago. It was all too reminiscent of my own loss. “Are you lost?” I finally asked, though I already knew the answer.
The boy nodded, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “Yes,” he murmured, “Momma said if I ever got lost, I should stay right there and she would find me.” My heart squeezed tight at his words. He was too young to grasp the permanence of a farewell, too innocent to understand that some goodbyes were forever. He didn't understand the terrible weight of his words, the finality of 'lost' in this context.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to try a different approach. “What's your name, little buddy?” I asked gently. He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed but holding a flicker of curiosity. “I'm Alex,” he mumbled.
“Alex,” I repeated softly. “That's a great name. Do you know what it means to die?” He pondered my question for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he said.
“Well,” I hesitated, unsure how much to explain, “it's kind of like when your dog isn't there anymore, no matter how much you look for him.”
Alex's eyes widened. “Like Sparky?” he asked, his voice hitching. “One morning, I woke up, and he wasn't there. I looked everywhere for him, but Daddy said he died. He buried him in the backyard. He doesn't come to play anymore.”
I swallowed hard, the familiar ache in my chest intensifying. It was the same ache I felt after losing my own mother. “It's kind of the same with your Momma, Alex,” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. “She's... she's like Sparky now.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “But Momma isn't a dog,” he protested, wiping a fresh tear with his grimy sleeve.
“You're right, Alex,” I agreed gently. “She's not. But sometimes, when people are very, very sick, their bodies get too tired, and they fall asleep forever. They don't wake up again, just like Sparky didn't.”
Alex stared at me, his eyes wide and welling up with new tears. “No,” he whimpered, his voice shaking. “You're lying! Momma can't be gone forever! She promised she'd find me if I ever got lost!”
I reached out a hand, hesitantly placing it on his small shoulder. “I know it's really hard to understand, Alex,” I said softly, as the rain started falling around us. “And it's okay to be sad, and to miss your Momma very much. That just means you loved her a lot.” A flicker of understanding seemed to cross his tear-streaked face. He sniffled again, clutching his teddy bear even tighter. “I did,” he whispered.
“And she loved you a whole lot too,” I reassured him gently. “That love will always be with you, inside your heart. Even though she can't be here with you anymore, that love will never go away.” He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of grief and confusion. “But I want Momma,” he whimpered, his lower lip trembling.
“I know, buddy,” I said, my own voice thick with emotion. “But right now, it's getting late and we need to find your family. They must be worried sick about you.”
The boy shook his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. “No! I want Momma!” he cried. And with that, he bolted past me, his little legs carrying his small figure weaving between the tombstones and disappearing into the maze of headstones.
Panic surged through me as I watched Alex disappear among the tombstones. A young child, alone in a cemetery, was not just worrying; it was dangerous. I couldn't just stand there; I had to find him. With a worried glance at the rapidly darkening sky and the rain that now poured in earnest, I knew I had to act fast.
Before I left, I glanced at the grave. It was a simple mound of earth, freshly turned. A bouquet of flowers lay on top, lilies, their white petals stark against the dark soil. Some candles flickered around it, their flames dancing and fighting against the rain.
And there, propped against the soil, was a teddy bear, with an extinguished candle next to it. A picture of the deceased was attached to it - a little boy holding the same teddy bear. Behind the boy, a banner read 'Happy Birthday, Alex.'
Inspired by Ghost Whisperer S1 E2: The Crossing
#grief #loss #death #innocence #cemetery #childhood #mourn #twist
© Sherlock
A little distance away, there's another group of mourners. They're huddled together, their sorrow palpable even from where I stand. It's a stark reminder of the cycle of life and death. Another soul has departed, leaving behind a void that can never be filled.
Life, I think to myself, is indeed cruel. It gives us moments of joy, of love, of happiness, only to take them away. We, humans, are so temporary, so fleeting. We're here one moment, and gone the next. It's a sobering thought, one that makes me appreciate the moments I had with my mother even more.
I don't know how long I stood there, lost in my thoughts. When I finally looked up, the group of mourners had already left. The sky was dark, heavy with the promise of rain. I knew I should head home before it started pouring. As I walked towards the cemetery gate, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and lilies. It was a smell that was all too familiar, one that was inextricably linked with this place.
Suddenly, a soft sniffle caught my attention. Not far from the freshly turned mound of dirt, a small boy was sitting on a bench. He couldn't have been older than six. He was clutching a worn teddy bear, his little legs dangling over the edge of the seat. Tears were streaming down his dirt-streaked cheeks, each one a silent testament to his grief.
I walked over and took a seat next to the little boy. “Hey there,” I said softly, “is everything okay?” He glanced up, his big eyes filled with surprise, then quickly looked down at his scuffed shoes. He hugged his teddy bear even closer to his chest and shook his head. “I'm waiting for my Momma,” he whispered.
My heart felt heavy, a familiar ache settling in. “That's a very special teddy bear you've got there,” I commented, trying to offer him a gentle smile. He nodded, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand. “Momma gave it to me,” he said, his voice quivering. “She said it would keep me safe.”
I didn't know what to say. The small mound of earth, the lingering scent of flowers - it all painted a picture I understood all too well. My own mother had been laid to rest just like this, not too long ago. It was all too reminiscent of my own loss. “Are you lost?” I finally asked, though I already knew the answer.
The boy nodded, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “Yes,” he murmured, “Momma said if I ever got lost, I should stay right there and she would find me.” My heart squeezed tight at his words. He was too young to grasp the permanence of a farewell, too innocent to understand that some goodbyes were forever. He didn't understand the terrible weight of his words, the finality of 'lost' in this context.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to try a different approach. “What's your name, little buddy?” I asked gently. He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed but holding a flicker of curiosity. “I'm Alex,” he mumbled.
“Alex,” I repeated softly. “That's a great name. Do you know what it means to die?” He pondered my question for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he said.
“Well,” I hesitated, unsure how much to explain, “it's kind of like when your dog isn't there anymore, no matter how much you look for him.”
Alex's eyes widened. “Like Sparky?” he asked, his voice hitching. “One morning, I woke up, and he wasn't there. I looked everywhere for him, but Daddy said he died. He buried him in the backyard. He doesn't come to play anymore.”
I swallowed hard, the familiar ache in my chest intensifying. It was the same ache I felt after losing my own mother. “It's kind of the same with your Momma, Alex,” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. “She's... she's like Sparky now.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “But Momma isn't a dog,” he protested, wiping a fresh tear with his grimy sleeve.
“You're right, Alex,” I agreed gently. “She's not. But sometimes, when people are very, very sick, their bodies get too tired, and they fall asleep forever. They don't wake up again, just like Sparky didn't.”
Alex stared at me, his eyes wide and welling up with new tears. “No,” he whimpered, his voice shaking. “You're lying! Momma can't be gone forever! She promised she'd find me if I ever got lost!”
I reached out a hand, hesitantly placing it on his small shoulder. “I know it's really hard to understand, Alex,” I said softly, as the rain started falling around us. “And it's okay to be sad, and to miss your Momma very much. That just means you loved her a lot.” A flicker of understanding seemed to cross his tear-streaked face. He sniffled again, clutching his teddy bear even tighter. “I did,” he whispered.
“And she loved you a whole lot too,” I reassured him gently. “That love will always be with you, inside your heart. Even though she can't be here with you anymore, that love will never go away.” He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of grief and confusion. “But I want Momma,” he whimpered, his lower lip trembling.
“I know, buddy,” I said, my own voice thick with emotion. “But right now, it's getting late and we need to find your family. They must be worried sick about you.”
The boy shook his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. “No! I want Momma!” he cried. And with that, he bolted past me, his little legs carrying his small figure weaving between the tombstones and disappearing into the maze of headstones.
Panic surged through me as I watched Alex disappear among the tombstones. A young child, alone in a cemetery, was not just worrying; it was dangerous. I couldn't just stand there; I had to find him. With a worried glance at the rapidly darkening sky and the rain that now poured in earnest, I knew I had to act fast.
Before I left, I glanced at the grave. It was a simple mound of earth, freshly turned. A bouquet of flowers lay on top, lilies, their white petals stark against the dark soil. Some candles flickered around it, their flames dancing and fighting against the rain.
And there, propped against the soil, was a teddy bear, with an extinguished candle next to it. A picture of the deceased was attached to it - a little boy holding the same teddy bear. Behind the boy, a banner read 'Happy Birthday, Alex.'
Inspired by Ghost Whisperer S1 E2: The Crossing
#grief #loss #death #innocence #cemetery #childhood #mourn #twist
© Sherlock
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