Classification: Prose
Theme: Slice of Life
Synopsis: Hunter, a 17-year-old boy, was having a hard time moving on from the death of his mother whom he loved dearly. He eventually came to realize that holding onto a burden would do no good.
...
"Are you ready for tomorrow, son?" My father asked me as I looked away from my phone. I gave him a reassuring smile with a slight nod. "More than ever," I smiled. "A tad bit nervous, though..." I added. The man smiled and gently patted my shoulder before explaining. "You're strong, Hunter, so you will be alright, I promise. But do bear in mind that the drill Sergeant will not treat you any different than the other recruits so, you and others are all equal in the camp."
"I understand, Father. We're all there for the same reason, after all," I smiled. Father nodded and smiled back at me. "You know if your mother were here, she would be so proud of you," he said as he ruffled my hair. My mood immediately turned a bit gloomy after he mentioned Mother. She died during a battle between her and Father's military and some terrorists. She died when I was sixteen, and ever since then, I was never the same anymore. It had been a year since she passed away, and I still couldn’t get her out of my mind. I think about her every day.
I recently turned seventeen, and tomorrow I would be sent away to Lympstone for boot camp. I won't be in the same military branch as my father, although we would be in the same military and base. I want to follow in my father's footsteps so I could be as strong as him one day.
I am the oldest child in my family so, I desire to bring nothing but honor to our name. I want to make my father proud after everything he did for my sister and me.
I gave a slight nod. "Get some rest, you little rascal. We need to get up early tomorrow." He teased as he made me stand up from the couch. "Okay, good night Father, love you," I said and hugged him goodnight. I walked through the hallway and made my way to my bedroom. I opened the door before closing it and slammed my back against the wall, letting myself slide down and allowing my body to hit the floor. I let out a sigh that sounded as if I was about to cry.
I stared at my ceiling as I felt a lone tear escape from my eye. I would be bluffing if I said I moved on from my mother's death. I didn't move on even a bit.
I was never the same after Mother died, as I said before. For the entirety of my primary school years, my parents homeschooled me. I only started attending a real school after I proceeded to secondary school. I was about to graduate before my mother died, then I changed. From an active and very social teenage boy to an introverted outcast. When I proceeded to college, I found it tough to make friends. For the entirety of the year, I was alone and had no friends at all. I nearly didn't proceed to my next college year because of this. I didn't know how to approach people anymore and be social; I didn't have the will anymore. I lost someone special and crucial to me.
I felt isolated and alone in school; I'm not joking when I said my eight-year-old sister was my only friend. I didn't want to open up to my father because I knew he already had a lot of weight on his shoulders, and I didn't want to add up to it. I couldn't open up to my sister either because she was a little girl, and I didn't want her thinking her beloved big brother was in a bad state. She was going through enough pain already.
My father and I decided to pull me out of college a few months ago because of my mental health and prepare for boot camp, and I would continue my studies after graduating. The death of my mother took a toll on my mental health. It shifted the way I interact with people. I was a very calm and friendly person before she died but now, I almost got emotional and short-tempered over small things. I HATE it when people talk about my mother.
The subject of our mother was a taboo subject. I also hate it when people say, "I'm sorry for your loss.” Why were they sorry? It was not their loss; it was mine.
Did they even know what it felt like to lose someone so dear to you? I didn't want people to comfort me either I only want them to listen. It may be silly, but it made me feel better. I loved my mother so much, and I would give anything to see her again. She was such a kind and caring woman. Why did she have to fight that day...? What did she ever do to deserve death...?
Life is cruel, and I had to learn that the hard way. No matter how good of a person you were, no matter how kind you act, life doesn't discriminate between good and bad people. Life would always take out good and bad people. There was no way you can avoid it. But it takes the good ones far more early. That was the truth but was also controversial, it takes two to tango. Life was like a garden––we take the prettiest flowers and leave out the bad ones. I know I have to let go of my mother one day, but they say letting go was one of the heaviest tasks in life. I also need to stay strong for my sister and my family. In order for that to happen, I need to let go and move on.
I didn't know how to. But I know I should. I didn't want to burden myself because Mother's death stuck with me, and I didn't want this burden to distract me in boot camp. I loved my mother, but it was time to move on. Holding onto a loss would bring no good. I took a deep breath before finally getting up and walking to my nightstand. I picked up the picture frame of my mother and walked to my wardrobe. I took another look at the picture frame and whispered. "I love you so much, Mother, but it's time to let go..."
I pulled out a small white box at the very back of the wardrobe. Inside were things that my mother gave me. There were a lot of things. I kept them all away because I couldn't bear to look at them, let alone use them. I took one last glance at the picture before storing it inside the box.
Published by: Renz Mar M. Mangana
Date published: January 04, 2022
Time published: 1:13 PM
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