Hello everyone! Skullduggerycain here with the story of George. I'm going to warn you, this is a story about tragedy. You will likely cry. I apologise if the end seems rushed, I think the flow of the story had a bit of disruption there, and I'm currently writing alternate idea bridges. Once I get one I really like, I'll probably put it into the blog. Anyway, without further ado, I give you, George.

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Foreword: I’d like to dedicate this story to the memory of Jennifer Lawson. She was hit and killed by a dump truck outside Nottingham Elementary School in Arlington, Virginia on February 27^th, 2014. 


  


George watched the leaf as it blew down the street. He didn’t feel like going home, because he knew when he went home, he’d have to accept what had happened. His father had been hit by a garbage truck yesterday evening, and had then been declared dead this morning. George didn’t know what to think, honestly. He felt awful. When his father had died, he didn’t cry. He didn’t even shed a tear. He was just dead, and nothing more. Just like that, one moment he was alive, the next he wasn’t. Death is a simple thing, George realized. One moment, and then a big part of your life is gone. His life was too, just like that. Just like the leaf that had blown by. It started somewhere, fell from a tree. And then the wind carried it along, for a long time, and then it would stop, and sit there, and then it would slowly crumble, and become part of the dirt. No one would remember the leaf. It was just one, like any other. You could go to a tree and find a new one and never miss the former. George sighed. His phone buzzed, it was his mother. It was almost dinner time now, George knew that his mother needed his help. He, only 13 years old, had a little brother who was barely 6. He hailed a taxi, and watched the buildings of central park in New York slowly fade away into the distance. He went home, and walked into the kitchen where his mother was hunched over the stove. She didn’t notice him at first but when she saw him, she started crying. He hugged her, and they stayed like that for a while. George didn’t mind, though. They were two parts of a 4-piece puzzle, and the fourth piece was now missing. They had to just grow into a three piece now. It was only then that George noticed what was on the stove, salmon. His father’s favorite. His mouth twitched into a smile, briefly. One last meal, he thought. Maybe his dad was still there. Watching him right now. If they were having salmon tonight, maybe there was still a tiny bit of his father left. “Go talk to Nick, George. I think he needs someone to talk to,” said his mother. George nodded and walked upstairs to his brother, Nick’s room. He opened the door a bit, and saw his brother sitting on the side of his bed, dried tears glistened on his face, looking at a photo album. He sat down on the bed next to his brother. They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Looking at the pages in unison, listening to the sounds of each other’s breaths. “Why do these things happen, George? First it was pops, now it’s Dad.”  George was hit by a wave of grief. A few months earlier, their grandfather had died of a tumor in his brain. “I don’t know, Nick. I really don’t. But dad’s still here, he’s just way up there. Just a bit above our heads. And it may take a while, but one day, we’ll be there too, sitting next to him on the couch, and then everyone will be happy. But we’ve just got to be patient, and make the life we have down here the best we can,” he replied. “Where were you today, George? Mom said the school called, you weren’t there,” Nick said. It was true. George had rode off of his usual path today, down into central park, found a little bench in the park outside of the zoo. And he sat there all day, thinking. He thought about his father, and his grandfather, and by the time the sun started to dip in the sky, he decided he could go home, feeling better. “I was in Central Park,” he said bluntly. “Come on, mom’s gonna be serving dinner soon,”. 


They ate in silence that night, and when George woke up the next morning, his mother was still in bed, so he woke Nick up, fed him breakfast, and went to wake up his mother. She was fast asleep, next to her bed were a cup of antidepressant pills, and a bottle of liquor. A frown then proceeded to fill his face. He shook it off. He’d talk to her about it later, but they didn’t have time yet. He got Nick on his bike, and they rode to school together.  In the middle of Math that day, the school counselor, Mrs. Merdock, walked into class. She whispered something to the teacher, and left. Once their classwork had been assigned, the teacher walked over to him. She said Mrs. Merdock wanted to talk to him, so he walked down to the counselor’s office. They talked, and he felt better. But something she said stuck in his head; What would he want you to do? Mourn him for the rest of your life, or remember him, move on, and do something that he would be proud of. So he went home that day, and talked to Nick and his mother. They ended up walking through the city that afternoon, and he told them what Mrs. Merdock had told him. George’s father was gone, no one would deny that. But it wasn’t the end. He would always be their in their memory, and if he was still watching, they’d show him that they still cared. They’d all make him proud. And with that, they went home, and slept soundly that night, knowing that everything would finally, finally, be alright.