FicWad

Hey. I feel so bad writing in 1st person for I feel it's used to much and too easy to write in. But I hope you guys enjoy.

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I felt so torn within. Like my heart had been ripped out and wasn't to return. Everyone has been real kind to me, trying to ease my pain and make it seem as if he never died. But they can never heal me, my heart, my soul. It's been too torn, too damaged.

I felt a hand placed upon my shoulder and looked up to its beholder. John. His cold green eyes tore into my heart like a razor. His icy smile sent shivers down my spine. He squeezed my shoulder.

"He was good kid Molly. You raised him well." He said trying to be sincere.

I almost laughed at him trying to make up good words to say to me. What had he ever done to me or our son that was ever nice or caring? For Christ's sakes he hardly knew our son Michael. He left us for dead after the divorce. So how could he stand here now and act like he actually gives a damn?

"Your words mean a lot John. Thank you." I managed to say.

He smiled coldly and left my side. I turned back to the hole in the dirt, which held a three thousand dollar wooden box that would only be seen until it was buried. It had cost a lot but I still had wanted to spend more on it. Unfortunately all my money had been drained on the life support he had been on for three months. With the insurance, it cost me two thousand a day. But it was worth spending that money in order to see my son's sleeping face every day.

I don't really remember how the accident happened. I guess that's because I had hit my head on the window. But my son...I do remember that. The other car had hit the passenger side, so my son got the worst of the accident. I woke up two days later in a hospital with a bandage wrapped around my head. All I really remember of that day is wondering where my son was and those bright red roses that had been placed at the foot of my bed.

And so now I stand here looking down at the grave where my son lay. I turn to see the people leaving. Not one of them was crying. I glared at their backs. How could they feel no remorse for an eight-year-old boy? Of course I didn't expect his father to cry because that man had never a feelings for anyone in this world. But I at least expected Michael's little friends to cry, but they were tugging at their mothers' coats begging them to leave because they were bored.

I looked away from the crowd. I couldn't stand their cold hearts anymore. I once more looked at the wooden coffin in the dirt. I was actually contemplating jumping in there and staying with him forever. And slowly as I thought this, I saw a golden ray of sunlight hit his coffin. I looked into the sky to see the gray clouds clearing away and the bright yellow sun taking its place.

Maybe this was a sign; a sign from my son saying he was happy and it was time to let go. I gently smiled and decided to take this sign. I quickly sniffled my nose and wiped my teary eyes with my free hand. I tightly clenched the bouquet in my hand. If I threw this into the grave, then this was me saying goodbye, goodbye forever.

"Goodbye Michael. Be a good boy and always have fun. And remember, mommy will always love you."

With that, I threw the bright red roses into the damp brown dirt below. It was time to let go. Not fully, but just a little.

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I hope you guys enjoyed the story. Please review. It would make me very happy.