It's been a long time since I've posted anything, but such is life- so many things are going on. This is a piece about a boy who's dealing with a death in the family. Last summer, my own family experienced a loss through divorce, and sometimes that feels a bit like a death. The person we 'lost' was a painter as well, and it's funny how life can sometimes imitate writing. However, I started writing this piece long before any family news- probably a couple of years ago, (I'm ashamed to admit.) Only now, in light of personal events, has the piece taken on a new meaning. To clear the record, :) that wasn't the first intention. I intended this to be a small story, standing on it's own, about a boy trying to hold onto memories of his uncle. Children don't get many chances to talk about death before it enters their life by force. I think it's ok to tackle some of the more serious topics now and again. This is very short- it's formatted for children's magazines- and I hope you enjoy it.
REMEMBERING UNCLE BEN
by
Victoria Simpson
Steven sat in class. He felt like crying. His paper snowflake kept ripping when he tried to cut it out, but that wasn’t it. It was that his fish had died that morning and this reminded him of when his uncle had died last summer.
He slammed his scissors down on the table and they made a loud CLAP!
Miss Woo looked up from her desk.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah! Cutting paper snowflakes out is really stupid!” Steven exclaimed.
He pushed his chair back from the table and walked out of the classroom. He just wanted to get away. And then he decided to say he had a stomachache. And so, he turned and headed towards the office.
“Are you sure you’re sick? You felt fine this morning,” his grandfather commented later on. They were walking to the car, in the parking lot. Steven just shrugged his shoulders and looked away. He knew he wasn’t telling the truth but he didn’t know what to say.
* * *
At home, it was hard to figure out what to do. Steven's grandma was trying to pick out a new color to paint the living room walls and was really annoying. She kept doing things- she kept holding up colored pieces of paper, and walking around and moving the furniture.
“Nothing works! Nothing's any good! We might as well paint the walls white and move to another house!” she exclaimed.
Steven sat on the couch and rolled his eyes. He didn’t know why she needed to paint the walls in the first place.
He got up and walked down the hallway. He passed his dad's study which was a small room made out of a big closet and it looked dark and inviting, like a cave. He just wanted to feel happy and safe- and so, he stepped inside. And that’s when he noticed it-the big stack of Uncle Ben's paintings sitting on the desk.
Steven sat in the chair and picked a picture off the pile. And then, CRASH! The whole stack of art fell on the floor!
“What are you doing?” his grandmother called out. She came rushing down the hallway. She stood in the doorway, watching.
“I'm just looking at stuff,” Steven said. And then it came out. “I don't know-I guess I just want to remember the good things about Uncle Ben.”
His grandmother's face softened and she looked surprised.
“I like remembering the good things, too.” She came in closer. She admired the painting. It had many fish on it, and long, green pieces of seaweed.
“That was one of your uncle's favorites.”
Steven smiled. “He had good taste. That's one of my favourites, too.” And then he had an idea.
“Can we hang this up on the wall? Then you won't have to re-paint the whole living room. It will probably make things look nice all by itself!”
His grandmother nodded and squeezed his shoulder.
“Well, that's a very good idea!”
* * *
Steven swung the hammer. He hung the picture and stepped back to have a look. It wasn't as if you could fix something by putting a painting up on a wall, but he felt a bit better.
His dad sat on the couch.
“You know, sometimes I imagine that your uncle never left us,” he said. “I sit here and it's like he's sitting right here with me. And then I think of how sad it all is.”
“I really miss him,” said Steven. “But sometimes it's so bad that I want to do bad things. Or run away, or never talk to people anymore.”
His dad chuckled kindly and smiled.
“That's o.k- that just means that you're human. All you can do is share how you're feeling. Try to do things that make you feel happy. And feel sad when you're sad. In time, we'll all feel better.”
Steven watched as the grey light from the afternoon came in through the window. And then the doorbell rang. His friends Clare and Raheem were standing on the porch.
“We came by to give you your homework,” Clare said.
“Yeah, but don't worry about the paper snowflakes,” Raheem grinned. “We already cut them all up!”
They all laughed. Steven invited them in. His mom came down the hallway to say 'hi'.
“Do you two want to stay for dinner? We're having tacos and salad,” she said.
“Sure!” replied Raheem. Clare nodded. Steven was glad they were there. He thought about apologizing to Ms. Woo, and when he was ready, he could even show his friends some of Uncle Ben's paintings.
They had time before dinner and so they went upstairs. They played with Steven's Lego. They built a brand new world. And his mom set two extra places at the table.
