Death

another part of the project i'm working on

Death

            He was twelve years old when he found out he had Cancer. He had often complained about a sharp pain in his left arm, but he was a very precocious child and his mom laughed it off as another one of his many tricks. They'd been fooled so many times and the signs were not that hard to read. This was classic Kerry. His antics had become a running joke at family outings. "That crazy boy" they'd say, shaking their heads, a slight smile tugging at the corners of their mouths. No one had the heart to correct him; he was after all the heart and soul of the family. Soon everyone began to take notice of the change in him. He seemed to be in constant agony. The care free attitude that he was known for was muted by unbearable pain. Cancer, they didn't know what it really meant or how to even deal with it. It was unfamiliar and therefore dangerous. Everyone walked around on egg shells, not wanting to add to his troubles. His mother took it the hardest, as mothers often do. He was her only son, the physical realization of all of her hopes and dreams. She knew deep down that he was destined to die before her and she lost. She had no idea how to truly comfort him. She spoke the words she thought were necessary to console him, but they felt shallow and contrived. The acidity of them leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. The day they took his arm was a definitive moment for him. He had never felt helplessness in his sickness and as death came closer, he made it his mission to ensure that his family was at peace. He gave every moment he could to ensuring his family's comfort. The mischievous little boy had grown into manhood with a fervor that was unimaginable for someone in his condition. He laughed, He played, He sang. He sang with conviction, with a passion that was uncommon for a man of his age. While the Cancer and the Chemo ravaged his body, his soul rejoiced in the life that he still possessed. That was the state in which I met Kerry, happy, almost care free. If not for his physical deformities, his sickness would not have been noticeable. His personality was bold and he had a powerful presence that endeared people to him. As we spent more time together, he began to awaken a part of me I never knew existed. He helped me to discover who I truly was. Every moment we spent together was precious. Not because of his sickness, but because his personality was so infectious. As death grew closer, his desire to comfort his family grew. He laughed still, in spite of the excruciating pain. His once robust body had become frail with sickness. Those around him knew that his time had come and sought to make his death as peaceful as possible. The day before Kerry's death was the single most defining moment of my life. It was a Sunday and as customary, we went to church. We were all deeply religious and our small store front church served as a second home to us all. Kerry took his seat while the pastor prayed and acknowledged him. The church had been praying and we believed that our prayers would be answered. A chair was placed in front of the congregation and Kerry sat and sang. He sang with every emotion he possessed. He sang about the splendors of heaven and about happiness. Truly he was happy. He sang of Freedom, he was already free, he knew his suffering was almost over and he rejoiced in it. He sang until there wasn't a dry eye or an unburdened heart in the crowd. That was the last time he ever sang. He died the very next day, just as he lived, full of joy and surrounded by the ones he loved. I'm ashamed to admit that I was too afraid to be at his side. I never got to thank him. He gave me so much in such a short time and I hoped that I was able to give him the same comfort. I know he's happy now. He no longer suffers and he can finally smile to his heart’s content. His death left a giant hole in me that I was never able to fill and as time passed, my view of the world changed. I became jaded and judgmental. No one could stand to be in my company, which made me happy for a while. I hated them anyway. I blamed my family for his death. If only they had taken him to the hospital sooner, then maybe the cancer would not have progressed as fast as it did. I could hardly stand to look into him mother's eyes to offer words of comfort. Why should I, she deserved to suffer for her stupidity, they all did.

Reviews

[13.9]

I have to agree with the previous two reviewers, B.G. Clark and Nelo Maxwell; while I like it, and it's certainly an interesting story, I felt like there was a funny shift midway through the story. The ending did seem a bit rush and I think it would help to expand that. I was also a bit confused when the focus point seemed to move from Kenny's story to the narrator's. I hadn't realized until then that the story was in first person, so I was thrown off a bit. ^^
Overall though, I did like it and it kept my interest up throughout.

[B.G. Clark]

I like the idea, but it seems as though it's missing a focal point, something to wrap the characters (narratror and Kerry) around. I'm left with a lot of questions, though not always a bad thing. But as a reader, I want to know why exactly the narrator felt so much contempt at the end, and how did Kerry help the narrator discover him/herself?

A lot of potential. Keep writing. It only gets better. That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.

[Nelo Maxwell]

I like it but there are somethings that could be explored like, what he taught you and it seems like it was a bit rushed.