Continuity

                   The rain was pouring down, soaking everything in its path. Nothing was safe, but me. I was inside. I was protected. I was sheltered. Nothing could hurt me.

            Confined in the classroom I watched. Watched the teacher. Listening, eager to learn. My small pale hands in front of me, my head resting on the desk. My signature pose.

            It was story time. My favorite time. Time to fill my naïve mind with cuentos de hadas, fairy tales. Happy endings. Weddings. Prince charming. The never ending love story.

            But my happy time was interrupted. Interrupted by the shadow.

            Heavy steps. Big and tall. Couldn’t possibly be the Principal. Who was it? It approached the door and my interest in the story subsided. It didn’t matter. The ending was obvious. The boy was going to be saved and he would live happily ever after. Death was avoidable. It didn’t matter.          

Two knocks.

Mrs. Prunty paused. She walked to the door. Time for the revealing of the shadow. The door opened. The shadow stepped in. It was…my dad?

A sense of anticipation struck me. I was leaving. But why? I didn’t have a clue but I knew what I had to do. Pack up and go with Dad.

Did I have an appointment? Dentist? Doctor? Why was he here?

Words were exchanged. No smiles. Dad always smiled. There was always that twinkle in his eye. That twinkle that let you know that everything was alright. It was gone. This was serious. Then I knew, something was wrong.

Please don’t be mom. Please don’t be mom.
            They walked over to me.

“Anaiz, you’re going home.”

That’s all she said. Nothing more.

Please don’t be mom. Please don’t be mom.

He took my things and we walked home.

Story time was over.

Looking up at his face, I tried to figure it out. Tried to make sense of everything. What happened? Why was I going home?

“Is mom okay?”

“She’s fine…look we have to go to L.A. Something happened…”

“Okay.”

That was it. Nothing more.

I walked behind him, taking big steps. Trying to keep up.

His head was down. He was sad. That couldn’t be. It’s not right. We are the Alegrias. The “Happies.” We can’t be sad.

The walk home wasn’t long but the silence killed.

Home wasn’t home.

Entering the house I could feel the tension, that negative tension. Mom was home, so was Adam. She was on the couch, head drooping being consoled by Adam. I don’t get it. What’s going on?!?!

“Ya llego. Anaiz ven, come sit down.” I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to hear my mother’s words.  I was afraid. I didn’t want to know…but the words still came.

“Anaiz, nos vamos a ir a Los Ángeles. Tu abuelita está muy enferma y parece que Diosito se la llevo. Está en el cielo con tu abuelito Pancho.”

A thousand emotions rushed through me and I was left with only one. I was numb. I didn’t understand. Was I supposed to cry? Laugh? Get angry? I didn’t get it. How was an eight year old supposed to react after hearing that their grandma was dead? What was I supposed to do?

The drive to L.A. was awkward. Quiet and strange. We all refrained from saying anything. Refrained from touching the silence, as if it were sacred.

Pulling up to the driveway I could see that everyone was already there. We were the last ones to come.

 I didn’t want to enter the house.  From my perspective it looked haunting. Dead. Alone. Empty. A perfect place for a séance. Oh the irony. I still didn’t want to go in. But I did.

Everyone was looking at me. It was like walking into a classroom after everyone was told you were the bad guy. Was I the bad guy?

Grandpa was in the other room. He was crying. Crying so hard. I couldn’t believe it.

“She was coughing all night. She went to sleep and around 5:30 am, she stopped coughing. Thinking she didn’t get any sleep during the night, I let her sleep, didn’t wake her. Around 7:30 am I called her, told her to come and drink her coffee. She didn’t reply. That’s when I went to see her and I saw. She was dead. I never imagined she would be dead.”

July 17, 2ooo-Funeral Day

I got in the car and went to pay my respects. I still couldn’t feel anything. No pain. No tears. Still numb. I cried but not for my grandma. I cried for Mom, for Dad, for everyone else. I could feel their sadness. I could feel it.

The church was full. Half of the faces seemed unfamiliar. I didn’t even try to recognize their faces. I just sat. Sat and waited. Sat through the whole thing.

I became a robot. I followed the directions given by the Father. Please stand. I stood. You may now sit down. I sat down.

Then there came the part where I didn’t know what to do.

“Anaiz ven, vamos a decirle adiós a tu Grandma.”

Say goodbye? What? No! That’s not how it goes. This is a game. Death is a game. Right? I was so wrong.

We approached the casket. Something was lying there. It was her. I stopped. I was scared. My mom pulled me along. No. We kneeled before her. No. That’s when I saw. That’s when I finally understood what Dead was. What its meaning meant. It meant gone. Cold. Frozen. Gone...forever.

That’s when reality stepped in.

The makeup didn’t help. So intense. The colors. The reds. The whites. She portrayed the meaning well. Mom was crying.

Then we laid her down to sleep, for eternity. People kept crying after the funeral. I just watched. No longer numb I was petrified. How could a word hold so much meaning? Is death indeed a parenthesis? I was just confused.

Fairy tales no longer existed. They evaporated with the tears. Life as I knew it had no meaning. It seemed as if every day, every moment we were just waiting for that period. Waiting for that period to end the sentence we knew called life. I know I do.

“Seems like everything we knew
Turned out were never even true
Some say we're better off without
Knowing what life is all about
I'm sure they'll never realize the way
It's too late
Somehow it's different everyday
In some ways it never fades away.”

-Sum 41 Some Say