The familiar aroma of melted cheese and Oreos filled my nostrils as I walked into my

sister's one bedroom apartment. The simple decorations made the small room appear open, with

just a red-velvet couch in one corner, a TV in the other, and a furry carpet in between. A hot tear

rolled down my cheek as my sister's essence overwhelmed me, however I quickly wiped it away.

This is not what I came to do; the time for grief was over. The sound of footsteps echoed in the

background, but I chose to ignore them, knowing whose they were. A pair of soft hands landed

on my shoulders and squeezed. I knew those hands, they were the hands that got me through

this, the hands that made me live again.

   "We don't have to do this today," the soothing voice of my boyfriend said. But I knew I had to,

I was done mourning, and it was time to do the job that no one else was willing to, it was time to

go through her stuff and find out about the real Amanda Hartfield.

    However, I turned around, not able to look at the room, at her life, and memories any longer.    

He changed, I noticed. A goofy smile formed on his face, but I knew it wasn't real it was filled  

with regret and sadness that wasn't there before. He had heavy black circles under his eyes; he

was  different than the 20 year old I met just a year ago.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into his chest, sobbing.

"I love you," he said picking up my chin so I was looking into his deep blue eyes.

I was lost in them trying to distinguish sadness from love.

"I love you too," I said, touching his face. "Let's go, I have to do this, for her."

       I didn't know where to begin, where to start looking, but then I saw it. Her

memory mirror that we made together when she first moved in. There were pictures of

memories that should've lasted a lifetime. Pictures of everything from my 18th  birthday, to the

day she got her first car filled the mirror with only little cracks of silver shining through. Bile

came up my throat, but I fought it back. I took calm breaths, knowing what happened when the

anger overtook me. My fists started shaking, and my vision blurred as my eyes once again filled

with tears, but this time it wasn't from sadness it was from anger that was forming inside of me. 

      "No!" I yelled, kicking the mirror."She should be looking at these with me, she should be

with me, here! Drinking hot cocoa and laughing at old Christmas movies. But she's not, how

could she not?" Everything I felt since her death was coming back to me. All the feelings I

oppressed in just a few meek tears, but I felt more. I loved her, and I didn't even get to say

goodbye.

"I can't, I'm not brave as everyone thinks, I loved her, and I didn't see her, how could I let my

anger do this, I loved her!" I sobbed, and he sat beside me, comforting me.

"Not today," I said after a while.

"Not today," he said.

The time for grieving wasn't over, for me it had just begun.