Philosophy

Author: Jessica Sheppard
From: Coley's Point, Newfoundland, Canada
Age: 11
Date: 9th Nov 1998, 12:45 AM
Rating: 5
Comment:
Title: Philosophy



Her eyes caught the light of the sun, creating a sparkle near the pupil, concealing her depressed look. A shade of blue that could never be found in a crayon box circled the black oval. She stared into space as though the clouds could tell her future. I lifted her feather of a body off the worn pavement and pressed it against my cheek. My tear trickled into the blanket of snow white fur that covered her limp figure. Her thick fur looked to be cut in layers, the last one falling to her ankles. A purr came from the kitten's throat, reminding me of a bedtime song my mother used to sing to me. Oh, how I missed my mother!



Mom had a headache. She had been feeling miserable all day, and I suggested that a walk might help. As she walked through the park, an evil spirit entered her body, causing my beautiful mother to fall into a deep sleep that none of us could enter. The doctors gave it a name, but I just pushed it into a far corner of my mind, forgotten forever.



How dare the sun still shine? How dare everyone's lives go on? I watched people go by the forlorn graveyard, still smiling and laughing while my family and I struggled to gather the pieces of our shattered lives and put them back together.



I could hear my father calling my name, running up behind me. I swirled around and our eyes met, his an avid color of green. I could see the graveyard loom behind him, seeming to shout to us all that it now held our mother and we weren't allowed to be with her anymore. Dreaded images entered my confused mind. My mother lying in her coffin, her long blonde hair flung over her shoulder and her face covered with too much makeup to hide the paleness. I hugged the kitten closer as I saw in my head once more the coffin being shut with a loud thump and placed into the lovingless ground.



"You can keep her," my father said as he placed an arm around my shoulder, sending a chill up my spine. His remark startled me, bringing me back to the real world to face life. I nodded ever so slightly and climbed into Dad's old black car along with my brother and sister.



The cat lay in my lap during the drive home. It hardly moved, as if it sensed our deepest emotions.



"Your dress is ruined, Anemone Dawn," my older sister, Anita, said expressionlessly, just to break the cold silence that surrounded us. Though a lot of white cat hairs now covered my lacy black dress, it could be washed and still be fine. But it wasn't like I was going to wear it ever again - it would always remind me of the horrible day my mother had been buried.



We named the kitten Philosophy, after my mother who was a wonderful philosopher. As I sat in the antique rocking chair, it seemed that life had always been this way. It seemed I had always thought too much, that we were all always grieving, that Philosophy had always slept on the rough carpet mat, and that my mother had always been dead.



My five-year-old brother, Meisha, came in, humming a child's song to himself. Anita, who had been lying on our floral sofa, let out an exasperated sigh and threw a pillow at him. My eyes





followed my seventeen-year-old sister as she stalked down the hall to her bedroom. Behind me, Meisha began to cry. He wasn't really hurt, just frightened. He didn't realize what had happened because he was just too young. He thought Mom was only gone for a little while and would be back soon. I shut my eyes tightly, knowing that if I had any tears left, I would have cried.



"I miss her," I whispered to anyone who was willing to listen. Suddenly, my eyes fluttered open and I scooped Philosophy into my arms. As I raced to the porch and pulled on my brown leather jacket, everything was a blur. I had enough of all this grief, devastation, and sorrow. It was as if God had decided He didn't like my family anymore, so He killed my mother and threw the rest of us out like trash. It was as if He was using Philosophy to apologize for His actions. I knew it was a horrible accusation and that God had nothing to do with my mother's death, but I was frustrated and felt too young to go through such a tragedy.



I barged out the door and ran to the park where my mother had died - right in front of the huge fountain.



Millions of stars dotted the dark blue sea above me. Few people passed, for it was late and most were home with their families, smothered in warmth and love. Yes, they were home with their families, full families with a sister, brother, father and mother. I once had a perfect family, I thought as I lay my back down against the cold concrete surrounding the fountain. Philosophy kneaded my chest with her razor-sharp claws, as if I was just a sofa cushion.



"Where is Heaven?" I asked out loud. The Bible said it was high above us, but science taught us that after the earth comes outer space, with lots of stars and planets. Maybe Heaven was one of these stars, or maybe there was no Heaven at all. But there had to be! Whenever someone close to you dies, you just know there's a Heaven. And that was where my mother was.



My racing thoughts stopped abruptly as I heard light footsteps trot down the paved paths. Philosophy sat up on my chest, her pinkish ears perked to a position that let me know she was listening intently. I tore my gaze from the stars and searched the park thoroughly. Dad began to jog over to where I lay and sat down beside me. I lifted Philosophy to the side and sat up.



"How did you find me?" I asked.



"I figured you'd want to be near your mother," he responded, studying Philosophy over. "This has been hard on all of us, and I've been quite selfish. I should have been with you kids, I should have helped you cope. But the sudden death of your mom was such a shock for me I didn't know how to deal with it."



I watched his gaze drop to his boots, his wavy chestnut hair falling over his face. "You did all you could," I said, trying to reassure him.



"That's a fine cat you have there, Anemone." Dad ran his rough fingers through my curly brown hair. "Your mother loved cats."





Mom had never told me this was so, but then again, I had never asked how she felt about cats. I could just picture her sitting down, playing with an enthusiastic kitten.



"Meisha's worried about you. He's too little to understand all of this, and he looks up to you," Dad reported, causing my vision to fade.



"Let's go back," I replied, and we both walked home.



I wish I could say we all lived happily ever after, but we never. My family was a blooming flower and every time we opened our petals fully, the wind would come along and destroy us. We had our good times and our bad. We tried to live our lives like normal people, like a family. My mother was never forgotten and never will be.



Now I lie in my warm bed an old woman of eighty. Philosophy is long gone - she died after seventeen long and wonderful years with us. As I close my eyes, I'm another step closer to being with my mother and Philosophy. I take one last breath and go to Heaven where I will be at peace forever.




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