Essays on Death and Suicide - Grieving the Loss of My Mother :: Personal Narrative Writing

Grieving the Loss of My Mother I stopped in the middle of the street and drew in a deep breath. "Where am I going?" I asked myself. I glanced at my watch, still walking, and noticed with a shudder that it was already past midnight. "Time flies when you're having fun," I muttered, my voice filled with a surprising sarcasm. I turned the corner of 54th street, and glanced down the block. No one. Part of me wished that someone would have been there, someone who would question me and demand that I go straight home. But I knew that if I went back, I'd be right where I started. And I'd promised myself progress this night. Maybe I wouldn't be able to get away, the odds of that happening were clearly against me, and I was aware of it, but every moment I could be free from the problems was one more I could cling to. Suddenly, a car pulled up next to me, the headlights blinding me momentarily. I glanced inside to see Micha sitting at the wheel. "Get in," she said. I crossed to the passenger side and got in, without objecting, due to the fact that I knew it was too late to be defiant. And I was too tired. I braced myself for what was to come next, but my older sister said nothing. She put her car into gear, and pulled away without a word. We drove in silence, the only noise being her deep breathing and my short, shallow sighs. I realized just how far I had walked, as we drove to my house- at least 5 miles. When we reached our house, I looked at it, as if I was seeing it for the first time in my life- the old fashioned porches, the balcony, the huge, beautiful windows. I stayed in the car, as did Micha, neither of us making an attempt to move as she commented on the grass needing cut, and the mess the neighbors had made in the front yard. I heard her, but I wasn't listening- I was merely staring ahead of me, debating if I should get out and run inside or try to justify my actions. "Micha..." I began, but she cut me off short. "Go get some sleep," she said dryly, "We'll talk in the morning." I got out of the car, leaving her in the car as I briskly ran up the walkway.