"This is going to be the best summer ever." Dean cried on the last day of school. I remember agreeing with him but oh how wrong was I.
Not only was it the worst summer I had ever had, it was the worst time of my life, bar none. It was the lowest point in my life and I, on more than one occasion, contemplated suicide. I still remember the day I got the call. It was two weeks before school reopened.
I was at Dean's playing video games when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and noticed that it was dad calling me. I found it strange to say the least seeing that he never called me. I answered and cautiously put it to my ear.
"Uh hello?" I said but there was no answer. "Hello?" I tried again. This time I could hear crying in the background. "Dad?"
"Drew..." He choked out, fighting back the sobs that were overcoming him.
"Dad what's wrong?" I asked, getting really worried. My dad wasn't one to get emotional and when he did, it's often over something really bad. Little did I know how bad it really was.
"Drew...Your mom..." he choked out between sobs.
"What? What about mom?" I asked, getting to my feet. Dean just sat there, eyeing me, worry written all over his face. I was starting to panic now. "Dad! What about mom!?"
"She's gone Drew..." He said. Time seemed to slow as I heard those words. It couldn't be, maybe there was a mistake. I don't remember much after that. I knew my body went numb. The last thing I felt was my phone slipping out of my hand as it dropped to the floor. Dean was in front of me, asking me what's wrong but I couldn't hear him. I didn't want to hear him. My mom was dead.
I remembered rushing back home after that. I wanted to know what happened. I wanted, needed, to know it was all a lie, a misunderstanding. A part of me hoped my dad meant gone as in divorced and left. I prayed for that because at least, that would mean my mom was still alive. Alive so that I can still talk to her, convince her not to leave. To tell her I love her, but I knew it was all false hope. My parents loved each other, so much so that divorce was never an option, but still I wished. Prayed.
I screeched to a halt outside my house, bursting out my truck and into our home. I hoped that I would smell my mom's baking, her perfume, anything to give me a sign that she was still here. I had no such luck. I ran into the living room to see my Dad on the couch, his head buried in his hands. His body shook as he cried, never had I seen my dad so torn up before. Seeing him like that made my own heart break and I felt my eyes welling up.
I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He took his face out of his hands and looked up at me. The look of sheer despair on his face made it all clear to me. My mom wasn't in a car, driving away somewhere. She was gone, and she was never going to come back again. I felt the tears pour over my eyelids, leaving salty track down my cheeks. I crashed to my knees in front of my dad as my legs lost all their strength. I looked up at my dad; he sniffed before he hugged me tight to him. I didn't hold back anymore as I cried, sobbing until it was hard to breath. I felt like I wanted to die. For the first time in my life, I wanted to end my life.
"How?" I managed to choke out as I cried into my father's shirt.
"She was out buying groceries..." He stopped, trying to keep his emotion in check. I didn't push and gave him time to gather himself. She was my mother, but she was also his wife. Whatever I felt, he felt it too, maybe even worse than I did. "There was this guy...he...he had a gun." He stopped, coughing as he choked on his words. "He just started shooting...and..." he stopped again, but he didn't need to say more. I knew enough and I couldn't hear anymore of it. The more I heard the more my heart broke. I cried myself to sleep that night, hoping that I wouldn't wake up the next day. Hoping that I didn't have to feel this pain again, but wake up I did.
The next few days passed in a blur. The pain I felt, had slowly morphed into numbness. I became a walking shell, not wanting to feel anything anymore. I was drained, emotionally and physically. I was initially angry at the bastard who did it, wanting to make him suffer but I later found out that the coward had shot himself after his rampage.
I didn't cry at my mother's wake, I didn't want her to see me so distraught. I kept strong, for myself and for dad. He too cried himself out, nothing left to cry even if he wanted to. As my mother was lowered into the earth, I dropped a white rose in, her favorite flower I remember her telling me once. "Bye mom. I love you. Always have, always will." I said.
I stood by her grave as everyone started leaving. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and I looked back to see Dean there, his eyes red from crying. I turned around and hugged him. He was all I had left. The one person I could count on. "I'm sorry Drew." He muttered. I said nothing, knowing that there was nothing to say. We broke apart and I saw Drew's father standing behind, a look of sympathy on his face. I turned away immediately. I didn't want sympathy; I wanted my mother. I heard Dean's footsteps retreat as he walked on the dried leaves on the ground. I looked over to my dad who was also standing by the grave. As if he could sense it, he looked up at me too and we shared looks for a second. I wanted to walk over to him but I found myself rooted to the spot.
For what felt like ten minutes we just stared at each other. Nothing needed to be said. We understood each other's pain and somewhere in our looks, we told each other we had to move on. To get on with life, to make sure that mom would look down on us and need not worry about us. Finally he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and turned to head back to his jeep. I did the same, looking at my mom's grave one last time before turning and heading for my truck.
"...No dad..." I heard the faint voice of Dean in the distance. I ignored it, just heading for my truck. "You can't make me do that." I heard again, this time louder and clearer. Obviously, they were somewhere near my truck. Finally I saw them, about fifty feet away from where I was. "His mom just passed away dad, how do you expect me to tell him that?" Dean shouted, tears threatening to spill.
"Tell me what?" I said. They didn't know I was there because they jumped at the sound of my voice. Dean quickly wiped the tears from his eyes.
"I'll leave you two to talk. I'll head off first." Mr. Callaway said, walking off. I looked to Dean who was awkwardly playing with his fingers. We stood there for a whole minute, neither of us saying anything.
"Come on, get in the truck. We can talk on the way back to yours." I said, walking over and getting behind the steering wheel. Dean hesitantly got in but buckled himself in anyway. I drove out of the cemetery, heading for his home. "So what was it you're supposed to tell me?"
"It's not important." He stated, looking out the window.
"It sounded important back there. You were screaming at your dad."
