Enraptured
Chapter 1
There are two coffins sitting side by side - one white and one black. Both are closed. The early October sun is warm and the day is bright, but it's deceiving against the cold dark shadows thriving in my heart.
The graveyard is beautiful. I know the groundskeeper works diligently to maintain it's immaculate appearance. The trees are trimmed - their leaves billow in the gentle breeze. The hedges lining the walkways are sculpted to perfection with not even a twig out of place. There are headstones that appear to have stood for hundreds of years. They are weathered and stained - void of flowers - but I can still read the engraved names of the forgotten. And then there are those whose lives are not so easy to forget. Those headstones are polished and unaffected by weather - their graves adorned with flowers in much the same way a King is embellished with jewels.
I am not crying. I know I should be - but I'm not and I can't. I've run through this day a thousand times in my mind since I was given the news. And still, it doesn't feel real. I feel as though I'm walking in a dream. A horrible dream.
Four days ago there was a knock on my door and when I answered, two grim looking policemen stood with pity in their eyes. Four days ago I identified my parents bodies. They'd been horrifically mutilated in the accident. I would forever live with the image of their death-coated bodies in my memory. That kind of image is not one that can ever be burned out once it's been seared in. Four days ago I lost my parents.
Three days ago I spoke to the lawyer who politely informed me that my parents were living in a financial disaster. Three days ago I was forced to put everything up for sale -including my parents house - the house I'd grown up in. The house had been paid for up until three years ago when my parents re-mortgaged it to pay my way through university - my studio apartment - my car. Three days ago I was forced to give up everything I had of my parents apart from my car, photos and my memories. Nothing could take the memories I had of them - not even death. Memories were forever.
Two days ago I was angry. I was angry with them for leaving me this way. I was angry for the lies they'd told me. They'd said everything was fine and that they could afford my tuition when they obviously couldn't. They'd let me live in a privileged world I should never have walked in rather than trusting me to understand their financial hardships. I was angry because they didn't have life insurance.
Only one day ago I organized the final touches of their funeral.
Today, I am numb.
There are two beautiful coffins - one white and one black. Inside lays my mother and father. Encased in the fine material and glossy finish is my best friend and my protector.
In one day everything changed. Everything I knew was ripped out from under my feet and I was left alone to pick up the shattered pieces of my life. In one week everything I cherished vanished.
I watched as the coffins were lowered into the ground side by side and I wondered how I missed the speeches. I'd opted to say nothing because I didn't think I could. Now I wished I'd listened. I wished I'd heard the beautiful words spoken about my parents from their friends and coworkers. I wished I weren't so alone. I wished I had more family. But I didn't. It was just me. There was no one else. I was now completely and frighteningly alone.
"Ella darling, the roses." My mother's closest friend and coworker Leah spoke in hushed tones against my ear.
My fingertips were frozen in paralysis, holding the roses tight. I didn't want to step forward. I didn't want to drop the roses into their graves. Because when I did - I knew the first shovel of dirt would follow. And then the next and the next until the earth was back in place and my parents were officially gone.
"Honey," Leah spoke again. Her voice was pleading with me to look at her, but I couldn't. I couldn't look away from the coffins deep in the ground. "Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?"
I shook my head in response but I still couldn't find my voice.
"I'm going to touch you, Ella." She informed. "And we'll walk together."
Again I nodded. What else could I do? If I kicked and screamed and kept the roses clutched tightly to my chest - what would it change? Nothing. It would change nothing. Keeping the roses wouldn't bring them back. They were gone and it didn't matter if I dropped the roses or not, because by nightfall the earth would cocoon their coffins.
Leah's hand covered mine and I couldn't help but notice she wasn't much warmer. She raised my arm, holding my hand out over the grave. "Drop the roses, honey."
With shaking fingers, I dropped the roses. As they fell, time seemed to slow down and everything was quiet. There were no more sniffles. There was nothing but the heavy pulsating thrum of my heartbeat in my ear. My knees went weak and I fell to the ground. Leah came with me, her body encompassed mine. She kissed my cheek as she wound her arms around my stomach, holding me in a tight embrace.
There are two coffins sitting side by side - one white and one black. Both are closed. The early October sun is warm and the day is bright, but it's deceiving against the cold dark shadows thriving in my heart.
The graveyard is beautiful. I know the groundskeeper works diligently to maintain it's immaculate appearance. The trees are trimmed - their leaves billow in the gentle breeze. The hedges lining the walkways are sculpted to perfection with not even a twig out of place. There are headstones that appear to have stood for hundreds of years. They are weathered and stained - void of flowers - but I can still read the engraved names of the forgotten. And then there are those whose lives are not so easy to forget. Those headstones are polished and unaffected by weather - their graves adorned with flowers in much the same way a King is embellished with jewels.
I am not crying. I know I should be - but I'm not and I can't. I've run through this day a thousand times in my mind since I was given the news. And still, it doesn't feel real. I feel as though I'm walking in a dream. A horrible dream.
Four days ago there was a knock on my door and when I answered, two grim looking policemen stood with pity in their eyes. Four days ago I identified my parents bodies. They'd been horrifically mutilated in the accident. I would forever live with the image of their death-coated bodies in my memory. That kind of image is not one that can ever be burned out once it's been seared in. Four days ago I lost my parents.
Three days ago I spoke to the lawyer who politely informed me that my parents were living in a financial disaster. Three days ago I was forced to put everything up for sale -including my parents house - the house I'd grown up in. The house had been paid for up until three years ago when my parents re-mortgaged it to pay my way through university - my studio apartment - my car. Three days ago I was forced to give up everything I had of my parents apart from my car, photos and my memories. Nothing could take the memories I had of them - not even death. Memories were forever.
Two days ago I was angry. I was angry with them for leaving me this way. I was angry for the lies they'd told me. They'd said everything was fine and that they could afford my tuition when they obviously couldn't. They'd let me live in a privileged world I should never have walked in rather than trusting me to understand their financial hardships. I was angry because they didn't have life insurance.
Only one day ago I organized the final touches of their funeral.
Today, I am numb.
There are two beautiful coffins - one white and one black. Inside lays my mother and father. Encased in the fine material and glossy finish is my best friend and my protector.
In one day everything changed. Everything I knew was ripped out from under my feet and I was left alone to pick up the shattered pieces of my life. In one week everything I cherished vanished.
I watched as the coffins were lowered into the ground side by side and I wondered how I missed the speeches. I'd opted to say nothing because I didn't think I could. Now I wished I'd listened. I wished I'd heard the beautiful words spoken about my parents from their friends and coworkers. I wished I weren't so alone. I wished I had more family. But I didn't. It was just me. There was no one else. I was now completely and frighteningly alone.
"Ella darling, the roses." My mother's closest friend and coworker Leah spoke in hushed tones against my ear.
My fingertips were frozen in paralysis, holding the roses tight. I didn't want to step forward. I didn't want to drop the roses into their graves. Because when I did - I knew the first shovel of dirt would follow. And then the next and the next until the earth was back in place and my parents were officially gone.
"Honey," Leah spoke again. Her voice was pleading with me to look at her, but I couldn't. I couldn't look away from the coffins deep in the ground. "Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?"
I shook my head in response but I still couldn't find my voice.
"I'm going to touch you, Ella." She informed. "And we'll walk together."
Again I nodded. What else could I do? If I kicked and screamed and kept the roses clutched tightly to my chest - what would it change? Nothing. It would change nothing. Keeping the roses wouldn't bring them back. They were gone and it didn't matter if I dropped the roses or not, because by nightfall the earth would cocoon their coffins.
Leah's hand covered mine and I couldn't help but notice she wasn't much warmer. She raised my arm, holding my hand out over the grave. "Drop the roses, honey."
With shaking fingers, I dropped the roses. As they fell, time seemed to slow down and everything was quiet. There were no more sniffles. There was nothing but the heavy pulsating thrum of my heartbeat in my ear. My knees went weak and I fell to the ground. Leah came with me, her body encompassed mine. She kissed my cheek as she wound her arms around my stomach, holding me in a tight embrace.