f i v e - roses.
The weather was gentle, the wind slightly blowing giving us all a needed cooling off here and sthere. Thousands of soft pink rose petals covered the grass, the service was almost over. I couldn’t do much more than stare at the casket in front of me. I held onto my aunt’s hand. She drove a thousand miles to get here.
“Let’s end in a prayer.’’ The pastor speaks as he folds his hands behind his back and lowers his head. I squeeze my aunt’s hand, a woman I hardly ever get to see anymore, afraid of the truth and the future. ‘’Father, bless over Kristen’s body and her soul. Guide her to the light and lead her to Heaven to be with you, Lord.’’ He pauses with a sigh.
There were many people attending, all of them from our little down. The local people knew my mother well, and they wanted to support this event. A tear trickled down my cheek, falling from my jaw and onto the ground. I peeked my eyes open to stare at the white, shiny casket.
I know it’s wrong to disobey during prayer, but I needed to see what was left of her. ‘’Lay hands on her sweet daughter, help her through the rough times, Father, give her blessings.’’ Pastor continues. Mainly I stop listening, not because I didn’t want to listen, but because I was speaking my own prayer in my head.
Releasing my aunt’s hand, I let out a soft sigh as I take the first step closer to my mother’s body. I took the rest of the distance quicker, finally reaching her side. Looking down at the step stool that was placed personally for me, I bite my lip out of nervousness.
Going up the three steps, I look over into the broad box and see her there. The bruises were covered by cosmetics, the scars hidden by makeup products as well. I reach my hand over the edge, as I done earlier today quite a few times, and I take her hand in mine.
It was cold and dry. Her skin pale, resembling a porcelain doll’s body. I gave it a squeeze, just so she knows I’ll never forget her.
‘’Amen.’’ The congregation said in sync as the preacher ended his praise. My eyes stared at her face. It looked unreal, because I was used to seeing the real surface. No makeup to hide either of our bruises and scars. I didn’t know how they truly covered the bullet wounds, but they did it magically and it seemed as if she just peacefully died – even when she really didn’t. They called it a suicide case, but I know it was murder.
If you sit a candle out in the cold wind, the air will blow it out. If you place a flower in a vase with no water, it will dry up. If you cage an animal up and give it no food, it will slowly die.
In my eyes, my mother was a rose. She was perfect and beautiful, wanted by many and envied by all. But sadly, the wrong person picked her from the sea of flowers and placed her in a dark, empty vase with no light source, an no water to thrive with.
And painfully, slowly, tragically… she died out.
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