Grief, the grim reaper of life. Stealer of joy, hope, and purpose. I do not know how I will be able to bear the days that are to come. I can hardly breathe as tears flow freely down my cheeks. I stare at the freshly dug red soil and the hole that will be her forever resting place. I still can't understand why she just decided to do it. A million things run through my mind, maybe she was just tired of living, or may she thought we were tired of her? I really don't know. But as I Iook around at the people who came to mourn, I feel like maybe I can understand her. I do not know if mourners is the correct word to use or if I should just call them onlookers. It is only a few people who are near the graveside, and they are mainly family and close relatives. The rest are just standing at a safe distance staring with pitiful eyes.
The priest says the final prayers as her body is lowered to her final resting place. An involuntary sob breaks out of my body and I feel like my knees are about to give out and just before they hit the ground my sister's hands wrap around my waist offering support. I summon the little energy left in me, scoop the sand from the spade directed to me and scatter them onto the grave. It is a culture for every family member to do this and it is believed that if you don't do it their spirit will haunt you for the rest of your life.
I wake up with a blazing headache and the bright light coming from the windows just seems to intensify it. I regret not drawing my curtains the previous night. The thought of not drawing my curtains alarms me and I'm shocked that I can't remember anything that happened the previous day. It is all a blur in my mind. I think the heartache and the previous day crying are the root source of what am feeling this morning. That is just my thinking until my sister Tiramisu enters my room.
"You really can handle a lot of shots for a person your age" my sister scoffs while saying. That statement gets me on alert. "what do you mean?", I ask her. I cannot understand what she is implying about me and shots and I know talking about shots, she is definitely talking about alcohol shots, but I still ask her just to be sure. "You mean alcohol shots?" " Yeaaah", she drags out. "Whaaat!!!!" I feel like I can't breathe anymore. I had sworn that I will never take even a drop of alcohol. Seeing what it had done to my whole family, literally, and also the fact that am not legally allowed to drink makes it even worse. It is Due to alcohol, that I had been left wishing for a different family.
You see, before last week's accident, we were a family constituting of five people. My mum, dad, and two sisters; Kathy who is the eldest, and Tiramisu. Everyone from my dad, mum, and sisters are alcoholics and it is well known even by our neighbors and relatives. The only person who until last night was not in that category was me. By now I know that word has spread that I'm already down the same road as every other family member confirming to everyone who says that our family is 'cursed with alcohol' that it may be true. Due to the fact that every other family member is drunk 24/7 or not around the house, I am always by myself having no one to parent me or even an elder sibling to turn to for advice leave for my friend Lynne who I'm dependent on since she understands what am going through and is like a sister to me.
I look at Tiramisu and she is smirking. I swear sometimes she behaves like a psycho. She is aware that the fact that I drank alcohol is a big deal to me but she just does not care. I know that even the tragedy that hit our family is not affecting her as much as it is everyone else. "why didn't you stop me?" I try to ask her. "you are so uptight Cyn, sometimes you got to live a little, few shots can't kill you", she shrugs. "goddammit am not even of legal age Tiramisu". "You know most of the time every word that leaves your mouth is shit!", am angry at her. "How can you talk like that about alcohol and all that shit yet we buried her just yesterday ...." I'm really angry and don't want to keep yelling at her. This conversation has just managed to dampen my mood more and the headache is not helping.
I get off my bed determined to find something to do that will at least uplift my mood and also make me forget the regret that am feeling for breaking the promises I made to myself. There is nothing bad like failing yourself. I ignore my phone and pick up a sachet of painkillers from my nightstand. They have been constantly there since the occurrence of the accident. I just have to have them within reach, since headaches seem to have become part of my life.
I make my way to the kitchen and the spotlessly clean kitchen reminds me of her, of what is no longer in my life. The people who came to help yesterday did a good job. She would have been happy. A clean kitchen had always been her weakness. Whenever she was sober even for only an hour, she normally dedicated it to cleaning the kitchen which most of the time was already clean, the reason being most of the time nobody bothered with cooking apart from making quick meals or coffee that left little to no mess.
I pour coffee into a mug and gulp with the painkillers. I just had to do it cause I can't see myself drinking cold water this early in the morning. I take a look at the fridge to see if there is any solid food and by luck, I find that it is full of all kinds of pastries. I'm sure they were brought over by different people the previous day who had come to mourn. I stuff my plate with three donuts pick up my mug of coffee and make my way to the living room. I plan to binge-watch hoping television will offer me even a tiny bit of comfort or even make me forget my situation even for a short period.
In the living room, I'm met with the sight of my dad sprawled on the couch with loud snores coming from him. I'm pretty sure that is where he spent the night since nobody bothers with him when he is drunk to a stupor. Good thing is that the house is clean meaning that one of my aunts who had been around since last week had done the cleaning, otherwise there would have been an unspeakable amount of mess around seeing that last night everyone was drinking.
I take a seat and flick on the tv and turn up the volume to the maximum. I want the volume to be so high that he has no option rather than to leave and go sleep in his room. I want to do my watching without distractions and the loud snores coming from him are more than distracting, they are irritating. "who the hell is that?" his voice booms throughout the room. "Turn it off! Now!" I ignore him and focus on taking my breakfast. I'm not worried that he will do anything. The worst my father can do whether drunk or sober is to insult you. Even though both he and mum are always drunk, it is extremely rare for them to physically assault each other. Save for the day that they almost gave me a heart attack. That day would forever be ingrained in my mind.
I arrived from school and the moment I opened the gate I heard loud sobs followed by words spoken angrily. From the voice, I knew that it was mum who was sobbing. My legs could not carry me fast enough to see what was going on. I was really worried that my dad had finally decided to make true of his threats of beating mum up. Though most of the time he made those threats while they were both drunk, I never take the threats lightly. The threats are also the reason me and dad are most of the times not on good terms. I arrived and the scene that met my eyes was shocking. Mum was sitting down sobbing with scratches all over her face. There was also a finger-long cut on her upper arm and it was gushing blood. Dad on the other hand was holding a long knife while sliding it through the rough surface in what seemed to be an attempt to sharpen it. From their appearance it seemed that they were both drunk and my dad was uttering incoherent words angrily at mum. "what have you done?"
That is what left my mouth. I moved in an attempt to push my dad but before I could get to him mum murmured and said that he did not do it. "Then who did it?" I asked. "Am just about to go deal with them, personally. No one does this to my family and gets away with it alive," dad replied. The part about not getting away with it alive alarmed me. "Dad, you are not going to kill anyone, just tell me who did it I call the police so that they can deal with them." I tried to reason with him. I might not have liked him but the idea of him spending the rest of his life behind bars did not sit well with me. Turns out my trying to talk him out of whatever he planned to do did not work, he just went on with sharpening the knife and murmuring. Seeing things were about to get out of hand, I decided to call Kathy who I was lucky since she was sober. Me being just a little child there was only much that I could do to help the situation.
Kathy arrived a few minutes later with the police, the description of the person who attacked mom was taken and he was later arrested. Mom was taken to the hospital and dad later calmed down when he was a little sober.
That incident had left me shaken up as I saw what not being in the right mindset had almost made my dad do.
I'm pulled out of my trance when I see a shadow of dad disappear down the hallways. Turns out my plan to make him leave me alone to watch work. I watch for a few minutes before I feel someone slump on the couch next to me. I don't have to take a look to know that it is Tiramisu.
"Go away, please, am not in the mood of talking with you," I try to tell her. I do not have the energy to argue with her and I can't take any more of her snide remarks. Am also still mad at her for not trying to talk me out of breaking my promise. "Can you let me at least explain myself?", she pleads. "I thought you needed it. You looked so heartbroken yesternight that when you said to be included in the shots, no one tried to stop you. I think everyone understood and just let you do it." This is one of the few moments where my sister shows just a little emotions." But you Tiramisu of all people know how am against it. You are also aware that I don't turn eighteen until after next month. " She looks at me weirdly and I just know that whatever she is about to say will just annoy me more.
"So, what is really the problem? The fact that you broke your promise or the fact that you drank alcohol yet you are underage?" she continues, "to me drinking yet you're underage does not appear to be a big deal, provided you don't get caught." she winks at me. "You know by fifteen years I was drinking," she says as if I was not there. It is one of the things that contributed to her dropping out of school at sixteen. Yeah, you read that right, she dropped out of school at sixteen not that proud of it but at least she managed to get her life together.
"You know I want to finish my education, right?" I ask her looking right into her eyes. "I'm aware". "You also know that in this family chances of alcohol addiction are high." "Not that am judging anyone", I add. She averts her eyes from me. Alcohol addiction in our family is a very sensitive topic even to Tiramisu who does not care about a lot of things. "I know you are not judging anyone, but what is your point exactly?" she is trying to rush up the conversation cause it is making her uncomfortable. "My point is that am trying as much as possible not to be an addict and also to finish school Tiramisu. Both of which at this point feel more like a dream to me. I'm doubting myself at this moment about a lot of things and my only hope is that maybe I will learn to trust myself again and have faith that the decision I make about my life will not bring me down." She looks at me with pitiful eyes and moves closer to me. We are not a very touchy family, so am surprised when she wraps her arms around me and hugs me, it is more of a side hug.
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. This is the closest I have been to her for many years. Both emotionally and physically. "I know in this family, you are the only one who is going to turn out different." I can't believe she said that. I lift my head from her shoulders and look her straight in the eyes. "What makes you say that?" I wonder. "it is because of lots of little things that you do, the way you carry yourself," "oooh, and the fact that you threw a tantrum after finding out you took alcohol shots!" she adds in a lighter tone making me also chuckle. The mood lightens a bit. "The reasons that you are presenting do not make a good argument, furthermore you know what they say about addiction being genetics. Have you also not heard that we are cursed as a family?" I say on a lighter note my voice almost a whisper.
My sister bursts out into a burst of loud laughter. Everyone in the house must be wondering what is funny since everyone is sorrowful." You can't be serious about the curse part. Who did you hear say that? " she asks while trying to control her laughter. "You mean you have never heard of it? I thought given that you are the one who associates with everyone around here you should have heard of it at some point." I point out. "let me tell you something Cyn, fame, money or influence make people not say a lot of things to you. I bet no one has dared to say that to me 'cause they are afraid of missing out on the free drinks I normally buy them." She adds jokingly while flicking her knee-length braids.
Isn't it funny that the person responsible for ruining your mood is the same person that puts you in a good mood? That is what has happened I feel lighter though there is still a dull throbbing pain in my heart that I know is going to take months if not a year to heal.