Words Sweet Words

I neer knew what it was like to savour complete desperation. I never knew the emptiness of l superstarliness and loss until she was gone. The moment when you feel your whole world crashing in around you, and your whole being shaken with remorse the sheer solicitude of heart-wrenching pain. I always thought moments like these were rare. That desperation and emptiness were not things I would ever countenance to experience. I would hear stories round death and war, horrific atrocities far away, barely I never hought Id surrender to endure them.My life was perfect. Well-put together. Full of love and Joy. Nothing bad could ever happen. Moments of pain were a stranger. Until the sidereal day she was gone, until the moment where I prime pain right where it resided, in the face of my dead mother. I walked into my one-fifth part grade inglesideroom sure that I was expiration to ace my test that day. There was no doubt in my mind. I had studied for hours, made notecards, written f acts over and over until my hand hurt I was prepared. I sat down in my favorite skunk. You hump those kids that sit in a different nookie e very(prenominal)day at the eginning of the year to find the perfect one?Like theyre adults looking for a home to buy? They consider the angle of their view of the instructor, how much sun the seat gets, how close it is to the door in case of an emergency, and many other factors. I was one of those kids. I searched for my perfect seat in homeroom for about three weeks. It took so grand because I had trouble choosing between several candidates. I finally found the perfect one. It was located in the second row in from the door on the right. I could con the teacher but didnt feel forced to make direct eye contact the ntire time she was talking.My seat was formed Just right that it had a slight arch on the back that helped support my s shaped spine. It really was perfect until that day. Everyone came in and sat down, but well-nighthing was dif ferent. Andy sat in front of me. His long hair was so greasy it made feel like I needed to shower for him. He was one of those boys you look at and imagine the cartoon squiggles come out from around his body to mean his stench. It was brutal. I could tell my day was off to a good start. Suddenly the phone rang.When youre in fifth grade, hearing the phone ing is like matching the first three numbers on your ticket to the loving lottery number. The person on the end of that phone could be anyone, and everyone in your class wants it to be some form of their ticket out of class. This morning was different though. Rather than everyone dropping what they were doing to find out who it was, it was ignored. No one stopped, no one wondered, no one but me. I wish I hadnt wondered. The teacher approached me with the most solemn face I had ever seen anyone have in real life.Andys tang grew stronger and stronger as my mind ran hrough scenarios as to what she could want from me. Maybe it wasnt m e she wanted maybe it was Andy. Maybe she finally smelt his funk, too, and was going to tell him to shower and get a haircut or ne would nave detentions torever. Maybe it wasnt for me. As she finally met her last and leaned over my desk, I realized that wasnt the case. Sarah, sweetie, you need to go to the principals office right away, okay? Go very quick, okay? No dilly dallying. Her voice had a bitter- sweetness to it.That pleasant tone masses use to covert up the ugliness behind their manner of speaking, like a yogurt-covered raisin. I didnt fully catch on to the true(a) depravity that awaited me. I knew it couldnt be good. Being sent to the principals office immediately was never a good sign unless it was student appreciation day. Candy awaited on those days. There was no sugarcoat today, though. Not a hint of sweetness carried in the air between the principal and I as he told me my father was coming to get me. There was no sweetness in my fathers face as he drove us to the hospital without a hint of explanation.I dont think anything close to sweetness could comprise in the cold, whitewashed halls of that hospital. We entered the room. There I saw my mother, as white as the walls that surrounded her. She was dead. I approached her as if she was a foreign being, some alien from one of my Saturday morning cartoons. The constant tone fill up the room. I knew what that was. I learned about it in health class. That tone meant heartless. My mother once had a heart, but not anymore, the drunk driver took it from her. He stole the thing that kept the beep going, but now it was Just a tone, a dead tone.That ambient sound seemed to resonate from every direction, in every corner, getting ouder and louder as my mind and heart began to soak in all that was happening. I didnt know what to do or think. I Just stood. Stood in the stillness of the loneliest moment of my life. There would be better after this. I knew that restoration and recovery were in the aft erlife, but that future seemed very far away. That future didnt get any closer in the months that followed. It wasnt until I reached my freshman year when I knew that I could conk out on. In the movies, when someone dies theyre always remembered by some dramatic, life-changing statement.A philosophy they followed that everyone knew them by. My mom said many of these passim my childhood, Im sure, but I cant recall any of them. It may have been easier if I could, if I had a big(a) testimony to lean on from my mother that loved me so much, but I didnt. I knew one thing, though, that she had them. Whether I remember them or not, I know they existed. She had something to share, and she did. She affected so many lucky people in her lifetime. We all have something to say. I took that thought going into my freshman year, knowing I wanted to change.I wanted to change others and myself and make the same difference I knew my mother made in her footling life. I know she made her moments mat ter. Her gentle words of wisdom that sang from her mouth to my small ears, and to the meagerly larger ears of others, were what made her memorable. I used that insight as the foundation for my life to this day, and will compensate to remember how my mother made winsome moments in her life and others. Even if I dont remember them, her words were real, as real as the sweet moments that they created and that are remembered by all.