Grieving In Silence     by Carmen Bartley                 Mar 2003

January 13, 2001

It broke my heart when I saw her looking up at me wearing more makeup than she had ever worn in her life. And
it looked so plastic, lifeless. I didn’t want it to be true – I longed for her to leap from the casket yelling, "April Fools!"
I waited there, staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, but she didn’t open her eyes and sit up.
Only when I got home did I shed a tear. I could only think of one thing while holding myself sobbing on the floor: Why did my mother have to leave me?

January 14, 2001

Before last night after the funeral home, I don’t think I’ve written in this in over a year. I guess I just needed to write these things down, so I wrote about seeing her – seeing her dead.
I think I’m gonna write a lot more stuff in here now, but I don’t want people to find and read it, so I’m going to go put this in my shoebox, in my old ballet bag, under a pile of clothes, in my closet.

January 29, 2001

I haven’t written in this for a long time. When I talk and write stuff down, I feel.
That’s why I didn’t say a word to anyone at school today. It was my first day back in nearly two weeks. I resent every one there. They couldn’t possibly know what it’s like to lose a parent – and I felt no reason to try to explain the feeling to them. So I just kept silent – all day long.

February 2, 2001

I can’t relate to anyone anymore. The people who felt so sorry for me when I first came back to school have already
forgotten me. They’ve gone back to gossip – the new kid at school.
I ignored him.

February 15, 2001

That new kid I mentioned in the last entry was gone for a couple of days. I wonder where he went. Not like I really care, though. He actually attempted to get me to talk to him today. As if he doesn’t get enough attention from the other girls. I
figured he would’ve gotten the drift that I don’t want to talk to anyone.

February 22, 2001

The new kid tricked me into talking to him. His name is Jake. I guess you could say he’s cute – all the girls in the senior class wouldn’t want him if he weren’t. Sad, huh? Well, he has curly brown hair that he can’t seem to control, depthless blue eyes, and a muscled, tan body. Alright – I’m woman enough to admit it – the kid is hot. Anyway, for some reason he came and sat by me at lunch today. I haven’t sat with anyone at lunch since I came back. He said, "What’s up, Celia?" – like I was one of his buddies or one of the girls from his fan club
I thought that if I ignored him, he would get offended and go back to the "popular table" where he always sat. But he didn’t leave. In fact, he kept talking even though I never responded or even looked up from my lunch.
Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I didn’t yell, but I wasn’t speaking softly either. I said, "This will probably damage your ego, but your so-called charms have no effect on me. Wait – let me take that back – they repulse me! Now, this is the last time you will EVER hear my voice again – got it? LEAVE ME ALONE!"
With that, I threw my most menacing look his way and went silent once more. I turned my attention back to my macaroni. The cheese had started to solidify, making the meal look even more disgusting than it had before.
What happened next surprised me, to say the least. From above me, I heard his voice say, "I’m sorry about your mom." Something about how he said those five words made me look up at him again. Our eyes met and he held my gaze for what felt like hours. And then, as unexpected as his condolence, he picked up his half-eaten road-kill lunch, and strode away.
I was dumbfounded. I mean, how he said those words and the expression on his face when he said it made me think that he really understood me – knew what I was going through.
Ever since then, I haven’t been able to get that conversation with Jake Winthrop out of my head. I don’t want him to have that much power over me – I don’t want him to know me – know my pain.
And now I’m balled up on the floor again, weeping bitterly, because the only person that might be able to make sense of this whole thing is gone – and she’s never coming back.

March 20, 2001

Today is the first day of spring and I can’t stop bawling. Diary, do you wanna know why I’m bawling on one of the most beautiful days of the year? I’ll tell you – because it’s Mom’s birthday. The full affect of her being gone on her birthday hit me when I looked outside and realized she hasn’t planted her flowers in her garden yet.
Mom always used to do all the planting a week before her birthday so she could see the flowers blooming on her special day. And then she would sit outside for hours, soaking in the sun and the beauty of it all – her masterpiece – the garden. I don’t know any other way to describe her feelings toward spring except that she lived for it.
Whoa – I have no idea why that memory came to me. I’m bawling even more now. I miss watching her spend hours outside on a lawn chair, soaking in the beauty of the spring. But this year there are no flowers and no Mom. I wish I could’ve just died with her – it would have been so much easier.

April 2, 2001

I don’t quite know how to start this diary entry, so I’ll just dive in and write down exactly what happened. Well, Jake and I had a big breakthrough. Through the whole time I’ve known the kid, today was the first time he’s ever tried to make me do anything that I didn’t want to do.. So I knew something was up when he grabbed both of our trays of food and took them through the double doors to the tables outside.
It was beautiful outside. Jake plopped down both of our trays and forcefully sat me down at a table in the middle of the garden Ms. Huber tends to. The garden was gorgeous – full of flowers – pink, blue, and purple surrounded by tall trees. The fragrance of grass mixed with the flowers was almost overpowering. I was so taken in with the beauty of it all that I didn’t want him to speak. I didn’t know what he was going to say, but I was dreading it.
He grabbed my shoulders and turned them toward him so that I was forced to look straight at him. And here’s what he said to me – a monologue I don’t think I’ll ever forget:
"I bet you’re wondering why I’m constantly following you around and talking to you when you never talk back. The truth is, I sought you out because I knew you wouldn’t talk to me. The first day I came to this school, I noticed you in almost all of my classes and you never said a word – not one word. So the next day I watched you even more closely and you still didn’t say a word. That’s when I got to thinking that maybe you were just the person I could talk to.
When I asked people who this Celia was and why she didn’t talk, they just said that you had gotten really weird lately – after your mom died. And then I knew I could talk to you.
You have no idea how much I appreciate you listening to me at school – just listening to what I had to say. And I know you were listening – you tried not to show it, but I can tell. You always make a face about whatever I’m saying – sometimes it’s a bored look, sometimes disgusted, angry, or even intrigued look. You also always make sure I have a spot at the lunch table and when I talk to you in the halls, you always make sure to walk where there is enough space for both of us to walk. So I hope you are listening up right now, too.
Okay, here it goes – my dad died a couple months ago – February 13. Maybe you remember I was gone for a few days. Yeah – he was in a car accident.
I’ve needed to tell this to someone – no one here knows that he died. And here’s the worst part. I don’t know if I should say this, but somehow I know that you won’t tell anyone. Well, my mom has started drinking a lot and she’s stopped looking after my younger sister. I have to do everything at home – the cooking, cleaning, checking Carrie’s homework, paying the bills out of Dad’s insurance . . .
Well, now that I’ve told you that much I’ll go – I’m sure you’ve heard enough about all my crap. I’m sorry I put all this on you, I think I can finally leave you alone."
It took an all of my strength and determination not to jump up and run away when he was spilling about his mom and dad. I could have just walked away from him and left him alone with his troubles, but I knew that he needed someone to talk to – I was the only one who could listen. I didn’t want him to leave – I didn’t want to be alone with myself again. So I called out, "Wait!"
He pivoted slowly and turned towards me. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Go ahead – I’m listening."
Jake didn’t quite know how to take it. After all, it was the first time I had spoken to him in nearly two months. Slowly, a huge grin spread across his face, giving him a look of pure delight. Then he took a deep breath and continued with his story.
We talked for a long time. This time, though, I actually participated in the conversation. It turns out we have a lot in common! We were so engrossed in sharing our stories that we didn’t go back to school when the bell for fifth hour rang. We didn’t care.
Diary, you have no idea how good it felt to talk again – to relate to someone again! God – it had been so long!
When our conversation was nearing an end, I decided to tell him about how Mom died –how I felt about it. I haven’t told anyone about how it happened and certainly not about how I felt about it.
I explained that she died because apparently she had diabetes and she never knew it. It affected her liver, and combined with her high blood pressure, made her sick enough to die in her sleep. I even told him what it felt like to have her there one day and then gone the next – about how betrayed and cheated I felt – about how nothing was worth experiencing now that she was gone.
Jake just sat there and listened and related. Turns out he feels exactly the same way – his dad was there one minute, then gone the next, just like Mom.
When we finished all we needed to say, we just sat and admired the beauty of the garden together. As I watched him bend over a flower to drink in its sweet scent, I said, "Hey Jake? Can you take me to the greenhouse? I think some of these pansies will look great in my mom’s garden."

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