A Mother’s Peace.
The full moon hung high in the sky, casting long shadows across the lawn from the shrub next to the front door. The summer air was thick and heavy, crickets singing their quiet chorus, hidden from prying eyes. Saylor sat on the front porch, her bare knees hugged together close, tears making their way down her calves as she quietly sobbed, doing her best to not wake her sister.
It had been four months since their mother had passed away. People always said that time would heal the pain but in the last four months, the pain had only grown stronger. The memory of Saylor’s mother was etched deep inside, vivid and bright. Closing her eyes only made the memories sway stronger. Sleep was something that Saylor no longer found came easy. Most nights were spent on the front porch, the warm cement cradling her skin as she cried quietly, her older sister sleeping soundly inside the house, unaware of the agony Saylor was fighting with.
Saylor sat with crocodile tears in her eyes, staring into the bright light of the moon. She pleaded with the night to take the pain away, to let the stages of grief make their way through her heart so she could continue moving forward in her life. The sound of the door creaked behind her. Quickly she wiped the tears away and turned to find Oakley standing in moonlight, her hair pulled up high in a bun on her head, her eyes heavy with sleep.
Oakley’s bare feet made a small padding on the cement as she made her way next to her sister. She sat down next to Saylor and wrapped her arms around her. Her skin was warm against Saylor’s bare arms. Saylor fell into her sister, letting go of the quiet pain, a small wail escaping her throat. Oakley kissed the top of her sister’s head. She brushed Saylor’s hair with her hand, slowly rocking back and forth as her sister cried.
Oakley had been through this same routine with her sister before. When they were little and the fierce spring storms would kick up, thunder and lightning blazing across the sky, Saylor would crawl into Oakley’s bed. She would nuzzle her scared head in the crook of Oakley’s arm. Oakley would rock her sister back to sleep, caressing her hair and telling her everything would be okay, that the storm would pass.
Half an hour later Saylor sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. Oakley gazed at her sisters swollen eyes and runny nose. She leaned over and wiped a tear from Saylor’s cheek. “I know it hurts,” Oakley said, her voice soft and gentle. “We’ll get through this. Together.” Saylor looked at Oakley with a heavy sigh. “You need to talk to me when it gets rough,” Oakley continued. “I’m here for you. It’s just you and me, kid.” Saylor gave her a small, soft smile. She quietly replied, “The storm will pass.”
With that Oakley headed inside and poured two glasses of iced tea. She made her way back out front and sat next to Saylor. She offered her a glass. The two girls spent the remainder of the night under the moon and stars remembering their mother. As the sun peeked it’s head over the horizon, Saylor yawned and made her way to bed. She slept better that night than she had in months. Oakley sat in the living room while her sister slept, drinking coffee and wrote another letter to her mother.
Oakley hadn’t told Saylor that she had been writing letters to her mother. Every night, as Saylor sat on the porch and sobbed Oakley wrote to her mother. Oakley had a habit of sleeping with her window cracked open and heard her sister doing her best to muffle the noise. Her heart would break a little more with each passing night.
In order for Oakley to cope, she would write. She would write and tell her mother about the pain she was left with and the fear she felt for Saylor. Saylor was young and scared. Oakley wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. She not only found herself grieving the loss of her mother but also the loss of her adolescence. There was a new responsibility in her life that she was certainly not prepared to take on.
Writing to her mother felt like a way to find answers. Putting pen to paper gave Oakley a chance to internally find her mother’s guidance. It was as if she could hear her responses to the lingering questions Oakley found herself drowning in. Each night, as she closed out her letter, folding it nicely and placing it in a shoe box under her bed, her mother’s presence became all too clear. Oakley could feel her mother’s warmth wrapped around her. She could smell her petal soft perfume. Her fears would slip away and she would drift off to sleep while Saylor sobbed outside.
Oakley was trying to give her sister the room to grieve that she thought she needed. Everyone deals with grief in their own way. It wasn’t until four months had passed that the warm embrace Oakley had become accustomed to grew chilly. The petal soft scent seemed to disappear and the breeze outside picked up. Oakley listened to her sister’s muffled sobs. Oakley knew then that Saylor needed her sister more than she needed to be alone.
Saylor had always been one to fight her battles internally. She was happy and bubbly on the outside but everything hurt her soft heart. She would tend to the wounds the world threw at her in the quiet of her room, placing the hurtful words in one box, the quiet whispers of girls at school in another. She would then lock each box and push it down, deep inside. She never let anyone know the true pain she dealt with. When she felt strong enough, she would dig up the pieces and work through them, journaling and crying in the shower where no one would hear.
These moments were not lost on Oakley or their mother but when they would try to crack that shell, Saylor would shut down. So they stopped pushing. The night that Oakley pulled a tattered Saylor into her arms was the first time Saylor had let her sister in - really in. As hard as it was to feel joy, that moment opened up a new world for both girls. The fear and terror of the new life they were embarking on became a more manageable scenario for Oakley. Saylor let out enough of the pain that the weight she carried felt like less of a burden. Somewhere, deep in the early morning sky, their mother found peace.
