Canaan Sutton
Jr. English, 3rd period
Mrs. Edmonds
10/1/2014
Good days, Passed Away

I remember what day it was. It was almost time for fall to hit, so it was a little colder and darker than usual. I was in the eighth grade. The time was 11:07am, so I’d only been in school for about three and a half hours. Everyone was all jittery because it was Friday, and we were all ready for the weekend. Then, our guidance counselor, Dr. Blankenship, opened the door to our room and walked over to Ms. Crowder’s desk and talked for a little while. When they finished talking, “Can you please go down to my office, Canaan? I’d like to talk with you,” said Dr. Blankenship. What did I do? I didn’t do anything yet. I’m not supposed to be here. Surely it was something I’d done a while ago. I couldn’t think of what I had done to get myself in trouble.
When we arrived at her office, I sat in the chair next to the wall and leaned my head against it, balancing the legs of the chair with my head. I could tell something wasn’t right the moment I stepped in the office. Our principle, Mr. McGrew, was standing on the far side of the wall with this look of, what I’m about to say isn’t going to be good. When Dr. Blankenship sat down --Dr. B is her nickname-- she put her elbows on the table, put her hands together in front of her mouth as if about to pray, and looked me in the eyes with a look of deep sorrow. She took a deep breath and sighed, “I received a call from your mother a little while ago.” That’s when I felt nervous; my eyes widened, my face drained of all color, and my heart started thumping loudly in my chest and in my ears. Those few seconds of silence were filled with the loud heavy sounds of what seemed like drums in my chest. With every beat, it felt as if my heart was about to explode out of my chest. The silence was soon broken, “Ok,” I sighed, ”why am I here?”
“Canaan, I’m sorry to be the first to tell you, and you know that we’re always here for you; but I was told that your Great Uncle passed away last night from a heart attack.” My heart stopped; my mouth went dry; I couldn’t say anything. I kept choking on my words; a big lump formed in my throat, and that’s when I started to get really dizzy. My vision went blurry, and the world started spinning. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. It felt darker and colder, not just in the room, but it felt like someone just ripped a huge chunk out of my soul. Even though I hadn’t seen my great uncle, Curtis, in a couple months, I could feel the loss of his presence, permanently. See, he was more than just an uncle to me, he was the one I could talk to when I had problems, the person I could sit down and have an adult conversation with, the person that I could trust with my life. He was a second father. More than that, he was the best friend I ever had. When I lived with my uncle and my aunt in the years that my mother had abandoned me, they treated me like their own. My uncle and I did everything together; we ate, swam, shot fireworks, hunted, fished, just about everything two best friends would do together.
In the office when I was told that my great uncle had passed away, all these memories of us together clouded my mind, pictures and memories of when we went down to the creek past the road in front of our redbrick house. “You’re allowed to go home if you’d like. We already told your mom that it would be okay, and she said she was on her way,” Mr. McGrew said in his usual dull, but slightly sympathetic, tone. I stood up out of the chair and went down the hall to my locker, half walking, and half stumbling over the thoughts in my mind and the ground beneath my feet. When I finally arrived at my locker, I just stared at the door of it, tears streaming down my face. Then I felt mad, really mad, I thought to myself, “Why… Why did this happen. Why!” I punched the locker, leaving a dent the size of a baseball, and I looked at my hand, half expecting it to hurt, but only felt a slight tingle on my knuckles. I couldn’t believe it. I told myself it wasn’t real, that it was a mistake and they had the wrong number, that it was a prank or a false claim, praying that it was just a misunderstanding. I didn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t picture my one and only true best friend dead. Of course, I knew that no one could live forever. I wasn’t ready for death to come so soon and so suddenly.
On the way home in the car, no one said anything, and what seemed like forever, in reality was only five minutes. When we parked in the driveway, no one was willing to get out first. After a while, I unbuckled the seat belt and walked to my room. I lay on my bed and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore and my stomach and throat hurt.
Later that day I packed for the trip to go to the funeral. When dad finally arrived home, he went upstairs and stood in the doorway to my room. It was quiet for a while, but I didn’t mind. Just him being there was comforting enough. “I’m sorry about what happened, and I know he was an important part of your life,” he said, “but I know how you feel. He was my uncle, and we had some good times as well. You can’t change what has been done. If it was his time to go, it was his time to go, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it on this Earth.” It was quiet for a moment, then he walked over to me and gave me a hug, “I love you.” After that, he left, and it was quiet once more.
That following Sunday we packed the car and drove for ten hours straight. At the time we lived in Arkansas; that’s the reason why I just couldn’t believe what I was told. On the way there, I couldn’t bring myself to do much of anything. I couldn’t eat much; I didn’t talk unless I had to, and I didn’t even play a hand-held. The only thing I did on the whole trip was stare out the window and listen to music, occasionally dozing off into a light sleep that didn’t last long. While I stared out the window, all I could think about the whole time we were driving down the road, “Why did this happen? I feel so alone and empty inside. What is Aunt Diane going to do now that uncle Curtis is gone? How do my cousins feel now that he’s gone? I hope they’re ok too.”
When we pulled into the driveway of our other aunt, Michele’s house, albeit it was eleven-o-clock at night, we stumbled into the house and fell asleep wherever we lay. When I woke up, I was on the couch in the living room. The smell of sausage and pancakes overwhelmed my senses, though only because I hadn’t eaten in a day. I fell off of the couch, slowly forced myself onto my feet, hobbled into the dining room, and sat at the table. There I saw Aunt Michele and greeted her with a warm hug and some light tears. ”I’m so glad to see you again, Canaan! How long has it been, two-three years now? You’ve grown up so much!” she exclaimed.
“Yea, that or you’ve gotten shorter,” I replied. We had a good laugh there, and I felt a little better. After breakfast, we went to our Aunt Diane’s house. One of our neighbors were there, I called him “The Chicken Man” when I was younger because I didn’t know his name, and he and my aunt were talking about some private business. “Well, I ought to get going. Looks like your family’s showed up,” said Chicken Man, “I’ll be seeing you then!” We shook hands, exchanged greetings, “see you laters,” and went on our way. As soon as I stepped foot in the house, I became greeted with a twist in my stomach as if someone had tied it in knots and a lump in my throat that felt like I had swallowed a golf ball.
We greeted each other with a heartfelt hug and talked a little while. Even with all the things that were going on, I only shed a few tears. The funeral was scheduled for the following day, so we gave each other hugs and went back to Michele’s house. The next morning we woke up and went to the funeral home and gave our respects to him. There were enough tears shed that day to fill a small pool. As I mingled, catching up with the people that I hadn’t seen in years, it struck me like a lit match thrown in a gasoline drenched woodpile. At first I didn’t notice much of a change; but then I felt it hit me, and I stopped crying. I have what many other people don’t. I have a family who still cares about me, and I still care about them. Without them, I probably wouldn’t be here right now, and the people that were there showed that really did care. I’ve learned to always look for the silver lining in everything that happens.