111we: A Short Story

Superior Essays
The ride to the cemetery was quiet. No one spoke a word. If 111we talked it would lead to the topic of my brother. We followed the long car that carried my brother while our friend and family followed behind us.
I looked out the window at the passing cars. They zoomed past in a blur of colors. As we started to slow down I looked up and saw an iron gate that surrounded the area. Gravestones where numerous and they all were different shapes and sizes. The drive way to the entrance was wide and long. My dad parked behind the car that carried my brothers’ coffin and everyone else parked behind each other.
I let her hold me and walk me to the open grave where my brother was slowly being lowered into.
“You know baby girl,” she said “it’s okay to
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I’m tired of being alone. Seth was always there for me. I need him. I feel lost without him. I feel like I’m the one to blame but I want to blame him too. I feel like giving up on the world.”
She continued like I haven’t spoken. “They would do anything for you. Never forget that. They love you with a passion. Don’t hurt yourself more than you already did. Listen to me when I tell you: they love you.” She said that with such hope and certainty that I almost believed her. Almost.
We arrived just in time for my uncle Leo to pass out the roses. Once I got my rose I pricked my finger on a thorn and watched with horror as I saw that blood was seeping out of the rose, sliding down my hand, and then drip onto the ground in loud audible drops. I blinked once and the rose no longer bled. My finger stopped bleeding, but there was still dry blood on it. I looked at my aunt who seemed to be focused on the preacher. That’s when I noticed that he already started the last prayers.
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“I’m Adrian,” he said, “I would shake your hand but mine is covered in filth.”
I smiled. “Arianna.” “Nice to meet you.” He said
I nodded and smiled.
“Well I got to go.” He said, “Maybe I’ll see you again someday?”
“Maybe.” I said as I realized that he said it like a question. Like he wanted to see me.
I watched as he walked to the truck parked in the drive way. He threw the shovel in the back, got in, and drove away. I looked at my parents who were still talking to my aunt. Turning back to the grave, I looked at my brothers’ headstone. It was about three feet wide and two feet tall. It was gray and had vases of fake bright flowers surrounding the headstone and had a picture of him in the center of the flowers.
I looked at the engraving on the headstone which said: SETH MILO ANDERSON MAY 16, 1993 - DECEMBER 21, 2010 LOVING BROTHER, SON AND FRIEND TO ALL "I LIVED A GOOD LIFE. NOW I'LL HAVE A GOOD REST.”
I read it twice before I heard my mom and dad call my name. I looked backed at them with wistful eyes. My father was already at the car and my mom was still looking at me with puffy red-rimmed

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