Motherless

I woke up to a sight that made me simultaneously sad and also confused on how to move forward with explanations. Yesterday Tesla and I had drawn a picture of our family together. I helped her to draw myself, her, Scoob, Sherlock, and Watson close to her down along the bottom of the page, and when she asked about Mommy I helped her draw her up in the corner of the page next to her new house. We then went about the rest of the day spending time together and being goofs. This morning I found that paper and Tesla had very accurately and deliberately torn the top right corner of the page off to remove the drawing of Mommy and her new house. She's understanding the abandonment and it tears me apart to see someone so small, innocent, and full of life to grasp such a big terrible concept.

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WELP ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪

Each bump and contour of the road echoed through the dilapidated frame of our Buick Park Avenue. The suspension had long ago bottomed out with no hopes of redemption. It was a long, barren, and ugly drive to get up to the memorial. I never understood why the old bastard wanted to be buried up on top of this hill. I'm sure it had some sentimental value to him that was lost to the years and transferred by his stony silence to the quiet of the grave.

"How are you holding up?"

Hearing my sister's voice snaps me out of my reverie and I realize I had forgotten she was also in the car. I continue driving in silence for a moment but now I'm fully aware of her concerned gaze boring into the side of my skull. I shift uncomfortably in my seat just as we hit a particularly vicious pothole and let out a groan.

"I'm okay. Y'know, we do this every year and I don't understand why. I have to take a day off work, he certainly never cared this much about anything, and-"

Both tires are dropped nearly simultaneously as an unsuspected ditch swallows the treads. Metal frame scrapes on debris and rock as the momentum carries the old beater past the hazard. Until the rear tires follow suit and the long abused muffler scrapes over as well, likely barely hanging on if it was still even attached.

"God dammit! This road is made for something with 4 wheel drive! Not this old bench seated boat!"

I fume silently and rub my head where I had hit it against the threadbare roof. Looking over at my sister and see her shoulders shaking. At first glance I had thought perhaps she was crying, but then her silent shakes gave way to uncontrolled laughter. She hadn't hit her head since she was a good foot and a half shorter than me in the torso and seemed to be enjoying the barely controlled chaos of the drive. Hearing her laugh is contagious and I can't help but feel my sullen face break steadily into a grin.

"C'mon, that hurt! Damn road is trying to kill me!"

At this point I've let slip a few chuckles of my own and my face has relaxed into a smile. I reach over and ruffle her hair, which makes her puff her cheeks out and giggle all the harder. The somber mood and my own grim demeanor have been banished by the levity of the last few minutes. The laughter steadily dies down, but the smiles remain and what was once a stony silence has become a warm, embracing quiet coaxed into existence by familial bonds. We make the last leg of the journey over the shredded remnants of road and pull up next to an old gravestone settled on the apex of a hill covered in brush and scree. I put the car in park and kill the grumbling engine. As the white noise disappears we stare forward at the marker in a reverence becoming the nature of death.

"Well, guess we better say hi while we've still got the light."

The doors of the old Buick creak in protest as we exit the vehicle and the slamming of their closing cracks through the peaceful sounds of nature. Approaching the gravestone in silence we each stand at our comfortable distance and reflect on memories both good and bad. The dying glow of the setting sun throws its final spears of amber light through the flame hued clouds. While the ground and surroundings may not be traditionally attractive, the scene of lights playing out before us is nothing short of breathtaking.

I wordlessly wrap my arms around my sister and our embrace serves to stave off both the growing chill and the ever present lingering of loneliness that exists on the periphery of life. We stand for a moment longer until the sun has fully sunken beneath the horizon and all that remains is the swiftly darkening blues fading to black pin-pricked with starlight.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."