“They were a loving family and will be missed loads, rest in peace little sister.” My auntie whispered before placing a red rose-my moms favourite- on top of her snow white coffin.
Next to my moms coffin was my fathers and then my brothers. Ah God, I miss them so much. I feel like I haven’t eaten or slept since the accident- although I know I have. My body feels so numb. I guess this is what it feels like to loose the ones you care about most? First you get the numbness, then comes along the depression. When will my life be back to normal.
“Freya sweet? Its time to say your goodbyes.” Genevieve- my auntie whispered to me. Well it sounded like a whisper, but I know she spoke out loud. I just couldn’t hear her, or all the other voices which were saying there goodbyes. The only thing I could hear was the beating of my heart; drumming out all the other noises, making my body feel limp and lifeless. It should be me in that coffin- before I could end that trail of thought everything was silent. I knew my family was waiting for me to speak.
Aunt Genevieve, Granma Amelia, Grandpa Wilson, Freda, Rebecca, Rosalyn, Jessica, Flora, Zak, Janson, they were all here, all paying there respects. There were more faces in the crowd, but faces I didn’t recognise, like fathers work employees, moms friends from our second home in Australia and of course Milo’s friends from college.
I couldn’t look at my family, I couldn’t even bare to stand here, next to the three coffins of people I loved most. I couldn’t take any of it anymore. When I finally looked at Granma Amelia I realised what I needed to do; I needed to say my goodbyes.
“Um, I have wrote a speech.” I spoke, quite quiet but loud enough for everyone to hear. I was afraid my voice will bail on me, or that I’d burst into tears, but to be honest, I don’t think I have any tears left in me.
“Mom always loved to hear it when I played piano,” I paused to bring back tears, which I knew wouldn’t appear. “so, if you don’t mind, I’d like to play this.” The room was so quiet apart from the sound of tears and sniffs that I felt tears fall down my face.
The piano was at the back of the church, so it meant walking through the middle of everyone. This I could handle. I just couldn’t handle the fact that the tears were now streaming down my face. There was sympathy in almost everyone’s faces and I didn’t want it. Why should I? Sympathy isn’t going to bring my family back!
Once I sat down, I immediately started to play. I didn’t need the paper in front of me to know what I was playing. I wrote this song when I was a thirteen. I wrote it especially for my father, when we found out he had cancer, but he didn’t like it as much as mom. I hope he appreciates me playing this now. I need him to understand how lost I am. I need his guidance, I need all their guidance.
Half way through playing, I looked up at the stained glass window. Light was shining in and lay directly above the piano. It reminded me of the time when Milo said he would always look out for me, ‘I will always be that shine of sun in which you need’ he whispered one summer when I was crying about how much I missed him and how I wanted him home from college. Now I can’t have him home at all.
I smiled and came to the end of my song. I realised that the tears were no longer falling, and my body wasn’t lifeless anymore. I had hope. I knew it wasn’t something to go by, but I know that Milo is looking out for me. He’s my angel. He’s the one looking over me. Just like mom always use to say, every night before bed, ‘angels are watching over you’ in her loving and caring voice.
“I did want to say a few words which I wrote down, but something new has came to mind.” I wiped away the tears which stayed and took in a deep breath. “A wise woman once said ‘Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose’ and I believe this. My parents and brother, may have di-” I paused, not because I was lost for words, but because I didn’t want to say the word. “but, God has a reason. Nothing happens purposely or accidentally, but because of fate. I love you Mom, Dad… Milo,” I stopped because tears were now falling again. “and you will be missed. I will be good and I will try to be strong. I-I-I love you!” I had to go and sit back down because the tears were too much for me to handle.
I felt like lying on my side, all lights out, alone and crying. I need to be left to think. I need to know what’s happening. The accident happened a little over a week ago, but I need to get a grip of things. I need to stay strong. I need to. Its important.
“Come darling. Time to go outside.” Grandma whispered down my ear as she hugged me. ‘Time to go outside’. Ha, in other words, ‘time to bury your dead family'.
Without saying a word I walked behind the many men who carried out the three coffins. First out was my father in a white coffin, then next came my mom and then last was Milo. The three coffins are identical and stand out from our clothes. In my mom and fathers joined will, my mother wrote in her own hand, please no black clothes at my funeral. So we decided that my moms friends and her side of the family should were dark purple- which was her favourite colour- and we decided that my dads employees and his side of the family should were blue as this was his favourite colour.
All of my brothers friends wore different colours, all of them were bright. My brother was a happy person, a colourful person. He didn’t have a favourite colour, he just had a favourite song. Well I wouldn’t say it was his favourite, I would just say it’s the song he always said he’d want at his funeral. My heart will go on by Celine Dion so, just like we decided not to wear black, we are playing this song as they are being buried.
I told Aunt Genevieve that I wanted to stay here at the cemetery for a few hours. The sun is about to go down and I’m still kneeling down on the dirt by all three head stones. I should go home soon, but why? I don’t have a home to go to. Gen is only packing all of my valuables and then in four days we will be on a plane to sunny Australia to live. Why would she think I’d want to move away from England? I have memories here. I have my parents and brothers bodies here.
My trail of thought finished when it started to rain.
“Great!” I muttered as I lay on my back, letting the rain wash over me, wash out all my fears and struggles for a while. I guess I fount the place to be calm because I didn’t even realise I fell asleep until I felt Gen nudge me.
“Oh thank God your not hurt. Are you OK? I’ve been worried sick.” She was panicking but I couldn’t seem to focus on her.
“Where are we?” I asked whilst rubbing my eyes.
“On the way home.” She calmly replied. She just brought be home? Why would she do that? I need to say Good bye.
“Stop the car.” I said through clenched teeth, hoping she would follow my order. Unfortunately, she didn’t.
“GEN!” I shouted at her, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Please.” I asked in a voice which sounded almost like a plead. “I need to say bye. I-I cant leave them.”
Genevieve finally pulled into the nearest bus stop - it’s a good job buses don’t run late here. I placed my head on the dashboard and just sobbed and Genevieve let me. She knew it was hard to move on after someone you loved died, she’d experienced this when her husband died four years ago from a heart attack.
I lost track of time. We could have been in the car for minutes, maybe even hours, but here, right now, talking to Genevieve made the pain go away… Until we stopped talking.
We talked about mom and how Genevieve and mom grew up together, their memories. Then Genevieve started talking about when she finally met Dad. I must admit, it was a funny conversation but I wasn’t in the mood for laughter. I did force a smile upon my face, but deep down I am screaming. Finally, the conversation I was waiting for. When Milo was born!
“He was a premature baby; born 5 weeks born expected date.” Gen said. “Your mom nearly died then, giving birth. I remember the day, September 13th 1991. Your father was all nervous and passed out a few times, but you mother and I were fine… Having a good old laugh, just like before she got pregnant…” Genevieve looked out the window and then checked the clock on the dashboard. She was trying to look for words, I knew she didn’t want to tell me everything but she wanted to keep my mind off of the important things.
“After Milo was born things changed. Your mother and father fell deeply in love and wanted everyone of Milo’s dreams to come true. When you were born things got better…”
Aunt Genevieve looked out the window, but this time not to buy time but to cover the tears which were now falling. “I’m sorry, I should have been there. I should of looked after you when your dad and mom couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She cried and gave me a hug.
I was in shock. Was Gen blaming her self for the accident? I felt like crying too, but its all been about me. I didn’t realise that my Aunt was suffering from the loss also.
That night I didn’t sleep much. Once I finally stopped crying and fell asleep, I woke again to the noise of taps on my window. I guess I just wasn’t use to my Auntie’s holiday house. I want to go home. Well its either I go home, or that tree which keeps tapping on my window has to be chopped down.
Just looking out the window made things ten times worse. I needed to leave, needed to go home!
It’s too early to wake Genevieve up, so I guess I should get some sleep. I grab my ipod off the bedside table and turn on one of my favourite Coldplay’s many albums. The volume was only on low, so I could still hear the tapping on the window from the tree on my window. Now I hear the rain, great! Life couldn’t get any better.
Out of annoyance and tiredness, I cranked the volume up so it drained out all over noise, all senses. It was so loud that it made me forget my problems - well for a little while anyway.
Even though I fell back to sleep, I still woke very early in the morning. My first thought was that id be going to Australia tomorrow and my second thought, was wanting to collect my things from home. There was no more numbness or pain about the accident. I may have feeling. I’d be a freak if I didn’t. I lost my family for heavens sake - but why, why no more numbness?
“Oh Good, your awake!” Aunt Gen smiled as she peaked through my door. “How are you feeling?” She asked as she sat on the end of my bed.
“Surprisingly well.” I even smiled a little and it wasn’t forced, like usual.
“That’s great darling.” She kissed my on my forehead and then picked my ipod up off of the floor; It much of fell off of my bed once I fell asleep.
“Can I get some more rest please? I didn’t sleep much last night and we are travelling all day tomorrow.” I lay back down and looked up at the ceiling.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Once Aunt Gen left I just stared at the ceiling. I was really going away, going to Australia. A place over the other side of the world- literally. It’s scary thinking how big the world is.
Do you believe in soul mates? In a way I do. Someone owns my heart, I just haven’t found him yet- my soul mate may even be a girl for all I know. I haven’t had many boyfriends, although I was sort of the ‘it’ girl at my school.
My first ever serious boyfriend was Reiss Connery. He had everything: looks, money and an amazing personality. Unfortunately he had to move away, so that meant we had to split up. My second serious boyfriend was a boy called Zack Thomas. We split up just before the accident. Of course I had other boyfriend, not just these two- but they didn’t last long, maybe a week or two.
I was startled when my iphone vibrated. Oh dear, why am I so jumpy? It’s just a text Freya. Calm down. Breath. I tell mentally tell myself. Whilst panting like I just had a crazy many running at me with a knife, I leant over and grabbed my phone.
F, how u holdin up? Miss u. Ring me be4 u leave. Love Is. I felt like crying again. I’m going to miss Is loads. Is and I have been best friends since we were five. I was getting bullied in our school playground and she came over and helped me. Ever since then I’ve been the one everyone looked up to, and I’ve been Is’ BFF.
Is, goin 2 miss you! I’ll ring when I leave and when there. How family? Spoke to Zack? I feel bad. Going 2 sleep. Love you loads Is, F xx SEND. Why is It so hard to let go? Is was the one who made me, me. Without her in Australia, I will just be a nobody. Maybe that’s a good thing. No attention, then no messing things up. I want to be liked for me; not for my money, or my looks.
Y u feel bad? Speak 2morrow then. Love, Is xx Why did she have to text back? Now I feel obliged to text her back. No Freya, get some sleep. That was weird. It was like there was someone in the room speaking the words to me. Is that even possible? Its only my subconscious. Well I suppose it could be. I’ve learnt a lot in life, and one thing I have learnt it that anything is possible if you put your determine enough to believe it.
When I woke up, the alarm clock read 23:42pm. I was only meant to sleep for a few hours, have a little rest, but instead I slept for near enough twelve hours. I haven’t even eaten a proper meal since the accident. Thinking about it, I am kind of hungry.
I wonder if Gen is awake, probably not considering it is nearly midnight. Being ever so quiet I crept downstairs, turning on all the lights as I went because it was pitch black inside this house at night.
There was hardly anything in the fridge; Gen must of cleared it all out because of us going to Australia. I decided to stick to something plain and simple, like a bowl of Kellogg’s Cornflakes.
“Oh, Freya is awake” I heard Gen say, well it was more of a whisper, almost like she breathed the words. It’s sort of like when my subconscious speaks to me, its there and you know its there but it isn’t there physically. Where is she though? She is nowhere downstairs so perhaps I imagined it. What’s happening? I guess I’m just looking into things, maybe I’m just playing with my mind.
Not thinking anymore of it, I washed up my cereal bowl and went into the living room. What shall I do? I’m not tired any more and I’m bored. If I just sit here thinking of nothing, I will think about the accident. Suppressing a sigh I turn on the television. What to watch? Flicking through the channels, I saw True Blood season 1. Milo and I always use to watch True Blood, mom never let me because its an eighteen but still, Milo loved to break the rules.
The True Blood episode was the one when Maryann Forrester bails Tara out of jail. I hate Maryann, ever since she first showed up, right until Sam kills her in the end of season 2. Milo and I always use to have debates over her, he use to love her, whilst I hated her guts.
Once the last few episodes of Season one were finished I felt a bit tired so I had a little lie down. I feel really nervous about flying. I’m usually ok with planes but being on one for twelve hours is the scary part. I wish mom was here to comfort me.
“Freya, time to wake up.” Genevieve said as she gave me a little wakeup nudge.
“What time is it?” I moaned.
“Well, let me put it this way, you have four hours to get ready.” She was packing her suitcase, this meant that shoes and clothes surrounded her- It was like I woke up in the middle of a jumble sale. At least I didn’t have to pack; Gen and I packed my suitcase just before the funeral- it helped us get our mind off of things, especially the accident.
“Going to get ready then.” I grumbled.
Looking in the mirror made me realise a few things. Firstly, I’m not happy with myself, I don’t like the way I look anymore. Second, my life is changing dramatically; I’m not the “it” girl anymore, I’m more of “the girl who lost her parents”. Another thing I realised was that I liked to see my self like this, all ruined and torn apart. Usually I’d be wearing makeup, hair perfectly done, clothes designer; now it’s just hair tied back, no makeup, puffy eyes, basically I look a mess.
My blonde hair should be straight and perfect- everyone use to envy my hair, well lets face it everyone use to envy me.
“Gen, I’m going to run to the shops, I’ll be back in an hour.” I said once I was ready and decent enough to leave the house. I left before Gen could respond, I was going to the shops whether she liked it or not, I needed change.
At the hairdressers I was frozen, what shall I do now that I’m here? I don’t have a clue why I came in the first place, just that I knew I needed change.
I love my hair, I love this look, but it all reminds me of mom. I never wanted to be popular, it was all moms decision, she brought me the designer clothes, the make up stylist- who done my hair and makeup for a month and taught me how to make perfection out of it, In a short amount of time. I had everything, and that was all because of mom, I don’t want to be me anymore. Mom created my image, mom made me, me. I can’t live a life when my mom’s dead and the look I have is because of her. I can’t live like this, I want to change, I need to change!
When I look up at the hairdresser, I realise she is waiting for me to speak. She was waiting for me to answer a question she asked a few moments ago; what was that question?
“What would you like doing today dear?” I heard the woman say in the same hushed voice as when I heard Genevieve speak last night. Ii knew this woman didn’t say the words aloud because her lips didn’t move and her facial expression showed that she was annoyed because I was taking too long to answer.
“Hair dye and a trim please.” I instructed in a bold voice, the sort of voice I used
to boss people around at school.
“Sorry, appointments only.” she replied in a snobby voice. If I were myself right now I’d use black mail or call for my girls, who would smash her face in. However, I simply couldn’t be bothered.
“Here! £200, this should pay for my hair to be dyed and my hair to be trimmed. I want to be walking out of here in two hours, so be careful but quick.” She was looking at me like I just set fire to some tennis balls and started to juggle. “Why not give yourself a tip out of the remains.” I know I’m paying £90 over the normal price but I need to have my hair changed.
Sitting in the chair, facing the mirror, I realised how scared I was. Would my mom want me to do this? Obviously she doesn’t and im going to respect that, but why shouldn’t I make change? Why should I live a lye, when there is no one I should be lying to?
“Can I please have the darkest brown colour all over please, with a streak of your darkest purple here” I said whilst playing my hand under half of my hair on my left.
“You sure?” The woman asked. She had an expression all over her face which read ‘is she mad? Should I do this? She will kill me if she doesn’t like it’. “It is quite a dramatic change from your lovely blonde hair.”
“I’m paying so just do it please. And don’t mess up! I ordered.
With the look of child who has just been told off the woman got all the dye ready whilst her supervisor put a protective gown over my clothes. Its scary just thinking about it but now I’m doing something I never would of if mom was still alive.
Milo would be here with me right now, trying to talk me out of it. Mom would be at home freaking out and arguing with dad about it- if he was there. Dad wouldn’t care thought, thinking about it, dad would probably be at work- like he always is.
As soon as the hairdresser put the first bit of hair dye on my hair I felt a wave of emotions; I mainly felt destroyed but relieved. No more pretending.
When my head was full of dye, the hairdresser left my hair to set. I didn’t realise I was crying until I looked at myself in the mirror. Tears were streaming down my face, it really hurt- not physically, but mentally. Deep down inside of me I didn’t want to do this, but its time for change.
Whilst having my hair washed, I got over the fact that mom would probably be planning to kill me right now. Instead, I took in the fact that this is the new me. Even as the hairdresser was cutting my hair, I didn’t feel sad, I was actually quite happy.
“Thank you.” I whispered when she finished combing my hair.
“It suites you.” she smiled. Although she was probably telling a lie- probably wanting to get in my good books- I actually really liked it. I hope Genevieve likes it. Thinking about it, I’m meant to be at the house and getting ready. We’re suppose to be at the airport in two hours.
When I walk through the front door Genevieve was there, she didn’t realise it was me though, so she screamed.
“Get out of my house! I will call the police!”
“Aunt Gen its me!” she still didn’t realise it was me, so she screamed again.
“Look! I pushed the sleeve of my arm up and showed her the scar from the acceded.
“Freya? What have you done to your hair?” Genevieve exclaimed.
“I need change. I’ve paid for it myself. Now I need to go and get ready!” I stormed past her and walked up the stairs. I don’t know why I responded like that. I’m just so annoyed that I cant make my own choices without being questioned.
I went straight into my bathroom and had a quick wash- there was no point in having a shower now, I just had my hair washed.
“F?” Genevieve whispered as she knocked on my door.
“Only my friends and Milo get to call me F!” I shouted back to her. I don’t know why I was so annoyed and angry. I felt so hurt, so ashamed, that I wanted to shout. I know I shouldn’t take my pain out on Genevieve but I honestly can’t help it.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered again.
“Sorry cant bring mom and dad back. Sorry wont give me my brother. Sorry wont stop us from moving to Australia.” I cried.
“I know sweetie. I cant do anything about that. Just please open the door.” She said in a soothing voice. How can she be so calm about this? Isn’t she hurting too?
When I didn’t respond she said “I lost them too… Don’t you think that was hard for me? I’m just dealing with it in a different way than you. Just please open the door so we can talk about it and so we don’t miss our flight.”
I went into my bathroom and had a quick wash. Looking at my self in the mirror, making sure I was suitable to leave, I opened my bedroom door. Genevieve was sitting on the floor and tears were streaming down her face.
“Aunt Gen, I’m sorry, its just… I still feel like they’re here and then I look around and there is nothing, just silence.” Tears started to fall down my cheeks. It was this moment that I realised I needed to be strong. I needed to make a change.