A girl dealing with losing her whole family.
I am numb. I sense, but I do not feel. I see, but I do not observe. I hear, but I do not listen. They’re all dead. My family. I am the only survivor. It was a car crash. Terrible accident. A sixteen-wheeler came onto the highway and merged without looking. We were in the way. There was an explosion and bang. Dead. All but me. I’m fourteen. Fourteen. I have no life now. My life is meaningless. Since then I’ve moved in with my aunt and uncle from Virginia. I’m from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Everything is warmer here. They don’t get hardly any snow. I love the snow. Christmas is in two weeks. My first Christmas alone. I’ve transferred schools. I’ve done cyber-schooling all my life. I was at home, working on the computer, every day. Now I go into the high school. I know that it’s no big deal, and that everyone does it, but I can’t love it. I can’t even like it. I can barely tolerate it. I’m ahead in all my classes, and school has dropped into mind-numbing boredom for me. I sit among peers who cannot spell ‘student’ in tenth grade. I hate my life now. I have no future. I’ve gotten lots of support from family and friends, and I know that my aunt and uncle love me, but it’s not the same. I’m living in a dysfunctional household deep in debt and that is supporting three little kids. I feel like a burden, not a gift. I was a gift to my family, my parents always said. I don’t feel love. I feel loved, but not love. It’s different, somehow. I don’t feel alive. I almost want to die, just to not feel so alone. I’m not suicidal, though. Aren’t I already dead? I feel a husk, a dry piece of straw, drifting among blades of green grass. I must be a stable rock, steady and predictable, when I feel like a bird. I fly, I flutter, I flit among the leaves. I twist and turn, tumbling over air currents high in the sky. I fly away from my problems, leave them all behind. I don’t support, I soar. I am the air. I am life. But I am not. I felt a bird before, when my family was. I am not Myself anymore. I am someone else. I died in that car crash. I died the moment the car crumpled, crushing my mother who was in the passenger seat. My sister was next, oh my sister. She was my best friend. I loved her with all my heart. I gave up almost everything for her. I was trying so hard to be her rock. This rock has drifted into the ocean as the waves of grief come up and sweep me away. I get sanded smooth among little pieces of shell and glass. I am no longer the same rock. My only comfort is my music. I have one song left to me. “Great is Thy Faithfulness”. It helps me realize that I am not my own, but belong, body and soul, to my faithful savior Jesus Christ. But I am not anything now. How can I be His? I don’t exist anymore. I am a shell, a front, a facade.
I am here, but I am not.