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Seeing those tears stream down her face, I couldn't bear it, all the anger that was bottled inside me like a black cloud over my head burst and as I tried to breath slowly the rain was hitting me like a knife rolling down my back, I scream, 'Would you just stop it!' Everyone looks at me startled at making this antic at my sister. 'What's the point? It's not going to bring her back; she's gone just face it!' And I pull off my black heels and run, running faster trying to be free so I can breathe, as I run straight out the graveyard. I run for what feels like hours, but only until I get home. As I edge myself in through the door, the deathly silence and unfamiliar smell tightens at my chest; everyone must be still there
.
I walk upstairs into my room pulling off my clothes and pulling on my dressing gown; the instant warmth brushing against my skin, I sit and I think. A million words and pictures could run through my head, but there's only one 'Why?' It's there hovering everywhere in my head, in my eyes, it's a never ending question, everything has a why but I had never had to ask myself that question as I thought I had the perfect life: out with friends every second of everyday, no complaints from the family as mum was always with Beth, the homely daughter, I, Iz was the rebel. But now the why's are there as I think back on the memories I had with her and I can't think of any that didn't include me: the one on the outside, the one scowling in the pictures, looking like being there disgusted me. Now thinking about it, it didn't! I just never thought I ever belonged and I thought that's what they thought as well. 'Why had I not spent more time with her? Why did this happen to her?' And then that other question popped into my head, 'What?' 'What's going to happen to us now? How will we cope without her?'
Still the tears wouldn't come. I forced myself up and walked into my mum and dad's room. There was no longer her smell there, there hadn't been for a while; it drifted slowly away after the days turned into months since she was put into hospital, I never thought she was getting worse; I forced myself not to believe it. I sat on the edge of the bed and opened her side of the wardrobe; her colourful clothes hung almost brightening up the room with their overpowering colours. The tightness in my heart gets too much, I reach into her draw on the bedside cabinet looking for some pain killers knowing she always had some in here on hand. As I reach in I feel my hand grasp something, it's a box, almost with a velvet texture. I pull it out, I see the familiar box with its purple and black patterns on the front, mum had loved it. I opened it slowly as a piece of paper folded neatly drops to my feet, but instead I first peer inside the box; the red silk padding protecting the glint of silver inside. I reach in and pull out a beautiful heart shaped locket with a small gem at the top. The thin chain weaves in through my fingers. I open it slowly and the contents? A picture of a woman of natural beauty with her arms around a little girl of about 10 of the same beauty, both smiling a huge grin of happiness and laughter. I reach down and pick up the paper slowly opening it. It simply says,
'The memories were and always are there mum x' and as I gasp it, I look again as I look at the picture, the memories come flooding back to me; that little girl in the picture is me. And I finally let the tears flow as I let out deeps sobs and hold the heart close to my own. The heartache is still there but the tightness has calmed. As a little tear drops on the locket and disappears quickly, I know she's till there in my heart inside me as well as in this locket and she always will be'