What I Lost When The Waves Died Down

Trigger Warning: Grieving the death of a family member

Note: I wrote this piece for my Creative Writing class during September for our Place unit. I worked really hard on getting in touch with my emotions for this and I wanted to share it! I am thinking of making the blog a creative outlet for my writing as well so hopefully I can share more of my stories on here.

The squawking of gulls infiltrates my mind as my eyes linger shut. I can feel the heated blanket of sunlight wrapping around my body, waking me up from my sleep. The once soft and plush comforter now itches my skin. I gently pull it off and sit up with my legs hanging off the side of my bed; my bare feeting hitting the hardwood. My curtains, which on a normal day would be drawn tightly shut, now peel open from the window, exposing my backyard; Bushes with flowers and coconut trees align the perimeter. The sun slowly climbed the ladder of bright clouds in the sky with vivid hues of orange and pink. I take a deep breath in and catch the faint scent of ocean water and seaweed wafting into my room. There is a pounding absence of the sound of popping avocado oil and the scent of spam breakfast getting laid on the table. The clinking of silverware and the running water is gone too. I close my eyes and try to imagine her still here; Mom making food while Jupiter laid down by her side.  

As my gaze shifts around my room, I spot where I carelessly tossed my phone when I got home last night. I slide to the floor and reach for the lavender case with about a million Billabong stickers on it and press the power button. Of course, since I didn’t even think to charge it last night, it’s dead. I attach it to my charger and rest the weight of my body on my hands with my legs stretched out in front of me. I trace the floor with my eyes, noticing all of the dirty clothes littering the floor and old cups and plates strewn about. Following the trail of old laundry leads me to my surfboard which now stands in the corner, collecting dust on its wax. I hadn’t gone out to the bank since she left. I didn’t have the motivation, nor did I have a way to pay for another lesson down at the Shack. Before she left, the bills were getting too high and I couldn’t afford to be away from her knowing how little time she had left. She always insisted I should go out and board but I knew I had to spend as much time with her as I could and she knew we couldn’t afford to keep paying. So now, here I am laying on the floor of my bedroom with no mom, no money, and one old surfboard. 

Outside of my door, I heard the patter of paws in the hallway. Jupiter, probably. She would always wake up at this time with mom and wait with her while she cooked breakfast, hoping mom would slip her a bit of bread or bacon. I realize that Jupiter’s scurrying means she's probably in search of food so I peel my body off the floor like a sticker to paper. As my hand lands on the faded golden knob that is attached to my dark oak door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes stood sunken over a patch of dark hues. My face looked slimmer than it once was. My once regular sunkissed red nose and rosy cheeks are now dissipated. I still look like myself, though. The mole on my right cheek is perfectly in place. My eyebrows still sit above my eyes and my forehead above that. Structurally nothing had changed except I feel like myself. My gummy smile now lays replaced by an expressionless mask. I think that my cheek muscles must be exceptionally weak right now, as I haven’t smiled in quite some time. Thinking about this makes me sad, which I’ve been trying to avoid at my very best so instead of reminiscing in this thought, I purse my lips together and turn that wretched gold knob. 

Walking through the short hallway that connects our house, I pass my Mom’s room. The door is slightly ajar; It usually is due to the door losing its ability to close many years ago. As I reach to shut it, I smell her powdery perfume which used to infiltrate any room she walked in. The scent makes my nose tingle and my eyes water, and I quickly wipe it away trying to avoid the emotional implications that go along with the simple closing of a door. In the hallway, the walls are bare, filled only with nails which used to hold up family portraits of me and my mother. I took them down the morning after she had passed; It took me 40 minutes to work up the courage to walk past them, let alone look at them. The bare walls now make the hallway look foreign, like most things in this house.

I make my way to the kitchen where Juipiter now lays, resting on top of the mat my mom had bought and gotten specifically monogrammed from her. The monogram wasn’t needed though, since anyone who walked into the kitchen could see the mat belonged to Jupiter, thanks to her outline being molded to it. There are some people that believe going an extra mile for your pup is beyond ridiculous and out of the ordinary. In our house, it was anything but so. Mom loved Jupiter like it was her second baby. She never cared nor took notice of the people who made demeaning comments about her “attachment to that damn dog”. Jupiter appreciated being the younger sibling as well. Mom had bought a stroller just for Jupiter to ride in if she got tired while on a walk and Jupiter loved it. For a month straight, when Jupiter woke up, she would stand next to the door, hinting to go on a walk with the stroller. Eventually, of course, mom reduced the frequency of their walks with the stroller. Then the frequency of their walks all together. After her 7th round of Chemo, the stroller and walks were long gone, now replaced by sitting outside in her wheelchair but even as she sat outside, Jupiter stayed by her side.

 I assume she heard my shuffling through the hall since she sits with her head expecting someone. It wasn’t me she was expecting though. For as little emotion you can see in a dog’s face, I could see the disappointment spread across her snout when it wasn’t mom who walked into the kitchen. Noticing the wetness on the fur surrounding her eyes, I absolutely lost it. I feel my legs completely giving out on me; My entire body dropping to the floor next to her. My arms reached out to hold her. I wrap them around her as I feel the tears rushing from my eyes. I couldn’t contain myself anymore. All of my emotions came flooding in all at once like a dam that experienced too many weak points and couldn’t support itself anymore. I had been so caught up in my own emotions that I didn’t notice Jupiters. She had been mourning Mom more than I had even allowed myself to. When I wasn’t there for Mom, she was. I was never there for Mom when she needed me. Jupiter lost her Mom too. All of my thoughts are pouring out from where I kept them hidden, quickly flowing out of the back of my mind like a roaring river. They felt so cold and so emptying. All of my hidden emotions had the strength of a riptide and I’ve suddenly fallen under. I’m trying so hard to swim back to shore but I can’t. The water is filling my lungs and I can’t breathe anymore. 

All the words I speak come out stifled and choppy. Each syllable is marked by me gasping for air as I talk to Jupiter. I tell her how sorry I am for not recognizing her grief. I thank her for being with Mom when I was too afraid to be there. I apologize to her because I know she witnessed the effects of cancer on Mom, and no baby should have to see that. As I say this, I realize she not only witnessed what cancer did to Mom, but also my absence. Jupiter watched as mom begged for her daughter to come be with her for her last days and she watched moms reaction when she was met with radio silence. I never picked up her calls nor did I answer her texts, and I carry that regret with me Every Single Day. It weighs heavier on my shoulders than the weight of the entire world. All I wanted was to remember her as her. I just wanted to look back and see all the times when she was truly herself. I wanted to remember her with her tanned and glowing skin, not with pale skin that showed her veins. She was the type of lady to always have a smile, who made the best of every single moment. She smiled when she talked to friends or when she got new clothes. She smiled when we ordered her favorite fries and had one with just the right amount of seasoning. She smiled when she had fries with too little or too much seasoning. Even when she got bad news she smiled. Even after she was diagnosed with cancer, she smiled and told me she knew she’d be fine and that I have nothing to worry about. And for a while I believed her; after all, I’d never seen her fail at anything. How could this possibly be different? I believed after her first round of Chemo when she smiled while saying it barely hurt. I believed her after her second round when she said and she already felt better. I stopped believing her the day after her third round when I had to drive her to the ER because she began to cough up blood. I now realize that she had been lying. I never really got the chance to ask her how she really felt because soon after, I left. I was always afraid that each smile was going to be her last, but now I wish I was with her for that final smile. If I hadn’t been too damn scared and left her, maybe she would have had more.