by Ashley Moreno

Created on: April 16, 2008

I didn't wave. I didn't say the words 'I love you, goodbye'. She was just......gone. My mother entered my room very quietly that day. She sat on the edge of my twin bed and looked straight into my eyes. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Her eyes watered with tears as her words filled me with the sudden grief she knew I was going to feel.

"Honey, your aunt is dead." Her words were alive with emotion. The tears came out then. She cried knowing in a second, I should've cried. The tears wouldn't come out of me. I looked into her eyes, trying to form an emotion. Trying to find my inner voice. When I indeed found it, it screamed to me. She's gone. My eyes watered with tears. She was gone. She's never coming back! Everything inside of me screamed with emotion. I stared into my mother's hazel eyes, trying still to understand.

"Wha-what?" My words came out in hesitation. Everything inside me screamed, 'Dead!', but my mind wouldn't listen to the voice. I couldn't listen to myself. I still thought I was lying to myself.

"I'm so sorry. I'll leave you alone." Done. She walked right by me and out the door. It clicked shut. I couldn't move. All my muscles had frozen in time, as if if I moved, she would really be gone. I couldn't believe she was gone for without her, I knew I would die off slowly. Every emotion inside of me cried out. Tears exploded from inside of me. How could I ever face my father with the pain inside of my heart, and be able to say 'Daddy, is she really gone?' Impossible. It would hurt too much if it was true. He would be angry if it wasn't. I opened my door and ran to the kitchen. My mother stood, blotching her eyes-red from crying. She froze when she saw me, tears streaming down my face.

"Tell me you're lying. Tell me she's still alive. Please." I whispered the last word. How could I ever expect this from my mother? She looked at me with a pleading look.

"I'm sorry,________. You're dad's aunt is dead." I just couldn't look at her. I looked away. I stared outside my back door window and just kept staring.

"She's gone." I whispered, the sobs building inside of me like a hurricane ripping through my soul. She couldn't be gone, could she? I knew she was dying, slowly, from cancer. I knew she could hardly speak just three days before. But could she really have passed, without one phone call from anyone? Could my father have had the guts to call me, instead of calling my mother? I grabbed the phone from my mother and ran back to my room. I dialed my father's

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