Dirty Snow

Dirty Snow

She had never seen snow that color—a blended mix of grays and browns from the line of footsteps that had been walked over it, with holes from heels and imprints of sneakers left behind. The path towards the grave was covered in piles of snow since no one deemed it necessary to clean out a path in a graveyard. It made sense, she thought, it’s not like it’s residents could walk, and if you believed in ghosts they would be floating above the snow. Her feet dragged in it, heavy, like her heart. Her body shook from cold, but also from despair. Her eyes had been stained with tears for the past week. No amount of moisturizer could smooth over the circles beneath her eyes. No amount of foundation could cover the tired look on her face. Even when she wasn’t wearing black, people could tell she was mourning. Yet, today of all days, the day of his burial, she hadn’t shed a tear. She was as numb inside from the sadness as her body was outside from the cold.

She hated winter. Loathed it.

His voice echoed in her head.

But winter allows for Spring to begin. These icicles allow for vines to grow. And these piles of snow mark where the flowers will go. And of course these snowflakes show how the gentle tree blossoms will float down from cherry blossom trees.

It was like he owned a plot of real estate in her mind. His words never went away even though his voice did. His lips never stopped moving in her head even though, after today, they would be 6 feet underground.

It wasn’t the cold temperature that got to her though. It was the cold atmosphere.

Silence.

No one was saying a thing. No one wanted to acknowledge where they were or what was happening around them.

She surveyed her surroundings. People she recognized. Aunts and Uncle’s she’d seen in photos. School friend’s from the past and present. Young children kicking rocks around, unaware of why they were there. All clad in stuffy black clothing. Coats and hats and capes and scarves and pants and suits and… she had to close her eyes. It was like spinning around in a circle for a couple minutes. She was lost in a sea of darkness, reflected off the black clothing, but also the blank faces.

When she opened her eyes again she spotted his parents—Army father clad in his uniform, little mother grasping tightly onto his arm like she could be swept away by the brisk wind if she let go. She tightened her jaw as she looked at the towering figure of his father. His face showed no sign of sadness. Too professional. He’d been to plenty of funerals in his day. She thought maybe his own son’s would spark some emotion in his stone features but apparently she was wrong.

He doesn’t smile much. *Laughter*. I say much because I saw him one time! He was sitting on the floor with Oliver, [a black lab named after Oliver Twist because he was constantly begging for more food], he turned on his stomach and stuck his tongue out at my father, I swear I saw him crack a smile.

He wasn’t completely heartless. Had gained a heart at some point, like the tin man. Wasn’t enough to love his son unconditionally though. Her heart ached at this thought. The little voice in her head piped up again. Not his voice. The malicious voice. But probably a voice that held some truth.

You could have done more. You could have been there for him. You could have held him like his father never did and his mother was never allowed to.

She swiped at her hair. It felt like clouds were forming around her head. Like a mist was appearing. Breath shallow, skin colder than before. Hands shaking. Vision blurring

It’s okay. You are okay.

She gasped in icy air. Her lungs burning, but inhaling, vision returning to normal, spots becoming people again, body steadying. Ice melting off her skin. Even with just the thought of him, he saved her once again. So why couldn’t she have just done the same.

It felt like watching a movie when she traveled through her memories of them. Everything seemed to go by so quickly. Every time she made a mistake, every time she hesitated. It all flashed through her mind. All the I love you’s she had never returned because she was so afraid.

The unspoken emotions as she stared at him lovingly. And in retrospect how the hell was he supposed to know she cared when she never said it, never showed it.

I know you care, you don’t have to tell me. I can see it in your eyes my love. Your love is enough just as it is.

But obviously it wasn't. Obviously it wasn’t enough to keep him from wandering the streets at night. Obviously it wasn’t enough to have him care enough to move out of the way of the headlights and not just stand there like a deer. Obviously it wasn’t enough to keep his body above the snow covered ground. Because how can you hold someone above the water when you are afraid to even touch them?

Pathetic. Useless. What a waste. You let him die. You sent him out to seek something you couldn’t give him. You made him seek comfort in the embrace of death instead of giving him yours.

Every phone call he had asked for, every hug he had hinted at, every single thing he had yearned from her she wished she could give them to him now. But of course it was too late. Of course.

Of course, you don’t learn to appreciate something till you have lost it.

She had appreciated him though.

It was the fear that held her back.

It was the anxiety that wouldn’t allow her to give him her emotions.

Her hands shook again as the eulogy began. She was jolted back to reality when the deep voice of the pastor had started up. She stared down at the ground. She almost saw his face outlined in the snow. Carved into it from the footsteps and dirt lines. Then she felt it coming up within her. Bile rising in her throat. The words choking her.

You broke his spirit. You held him down. You let yourself be this way. You are weak. You are weak. You are weak.

A couple feet away from the crowd she placed her shaking hand on the trunk of a willow tree and puked. She hadn’t eaten in days. All that came up was acid and water. Clear liquid spilled from her lips. Her body shook violently as she heaved. Eventually shuddering as her stomach convulsed with dry choking noises. Eyes closed, breathing heavy.

Disgusting

Her eyes stayed shut

Useless

Her fists were clenched now. Still shaking.

Worthless

Tears spilled from her eyes, dripping onto the ground.

Don't let the voice win. I know you are stronger . I know it, I know you are. I’ve seen you go through so much. You’re a fighter. You keep me standing and you can keep yourself standing. Tell the voice to leave you alone. Tell it to fuck off.

His voice was soft in her head but somehow it managed to overpower the screaming.

The everything was quiet.

When she opened her eyes she looked down at where she had just emptied her feelings onto the floor. It had washed away the snow in a little patch.

In a little patch she saw grass.

In that little patch she saw a flower.

In that little patch she saw them sitting on the blanket last summer.

In that little patch she saw him place a little red flower in her hair.

In that little patch she saw it match the shade of her cheeks in that moment.

In that little patch she saw his laughing face.

In that little patch she saw their faces move together.

She felt the heat on her lips.

From the first and last time they kissed.

The one time she managed to overcome her fear and allow closeness.

Everything within her awoke at this memory.

Heat rose within her.

Don’t act tough. You are nothing.

She laughed at nothing.

Under her breath she murmured.

“Fuck Off”

That night she called her old therapist and booked an appointment.

That night she texted her best friend and asked her to lunch for the first time in months.

That night she actually took her pills.

That night she sat on her bed, eyes closed, meditating.

That night she promised herself she would never. Ever. Let her mind get the better of her.

She would never let her anxiety cause her to miss out on life.

Because he wanted her to live

But more importantly,

Because,

finally,

she wanted to live.