Narrative Essay About My Mother's Death

My mother has two rules. Never touch Jamie’s things, and never talk about his death. She has a third rule, understood but never said. Don’t say Jamie’s name at all. Ever. Not to her at least. Not if she can hear you. Not if you know what’s good for you and for her. My mother didn’t go through the five stages of grief. She’s stayed in a perpetual state of anger about it for the last three years. I haven’t seen her cry about Jamie since his funeral. My mom goes livid at the sound of Jamie’s name now. And if you’re stupid enough to talk about how he died...well let’s hope you have a nice place to hide. Jamie was my brother. My younger brother. By 22 seconds. I never missed a chance to rub that one in when he was alive. My mother …show more content…
He loved books, he could never have had enough of them. I knew it was the best thing I could have gotten him. But he didn’t open it and inspect it as I thought he would. Instead he sat it aside, picking up a small jewelry box from his nightstand. He handed it to me, smiling. I think I knew what it was before I opened it, and I know that I loved it before I opened it. I loved everything Jamie gave me. I opened the box slowly, the light from our lamp reflecting off of the gold of the locket. I pulled it out, realizing that it was only half of the heart, and the chain looked newer. I looked closer at it and read the inscription. Jamie. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered. I looked up at him as he pulled the other half from under his shirt. His had my name on it. Jasa. “I know,” He said, pushing his glasses up. “This way we’ll always have each other, it won’t matter if we’re not together.” We smiled at each other for a little longer before turning the light out and laying down again. I didn’t fall asleep, although Jamie did. I held onto my half of the locket and smiled until the sun came …show more content…
I’ll be downstairs in a minute.” I don’t take my eyes from the bloodstain as I say this. I don’t turn around when the door closes, or when I feel Alaine’s small hands on my back, rubbing slow circles. My eyes well with tears and I let them run down my face. Alaine wraps her arms around me.
She may not remember Jamie, and she may not feel his loss like mom and I do, but she understands that it’s not an easy thing. She’s smarter than her six years indicate.
“Come on Jasa, Mom’s gonna be up soon,” She says after a couple minutes of silent tears. I nod and she she leads me out of the room and down the stairs. I hear my mom bumping around in her room, getting up for the day. Mom’s days are shorter than ours. She usually doesn’t come out of her room until noon, sometimes later. She doesn’t work, dad does that. All the time now. He’s never home. I don’t think I’ve even talked to him in the last month.
Not that that matters. We didn’t talk before either. He was either always at work, or always in his study. But at least when he was in his study he was home where we could see him. Hear him. Feel his presence. The hole he’s left is almost as big as