Alyson+Final+Piece

As For Aidyn I guess one could say that it is our fate to die; that death brings forth new beginnings, and that with each new beginning, fate brings together start and end to form the circle we call life. That’s how it started. Life, I mean. However, I prefer a more specific term: complications. And the funeral was only the start of these complications. “Frank lived. If people ever ask me what Frank did, I’m going to reply with ‘He lived.’” The priest went on about my great-grandfather for what felt like hours, saying things like, “Cholesterol was something he never worried about” and “He lived for 6:00 mass on Sunday mornings. He also lived for the jelly doughnuts that waited for him after mass.” Being alive for nineteen years, I thought that maybe I’d know my great-grandfather. How much could there be? Elderly people enjoy similar activities: fishing, bingo, eating Jell-o without their dentures. What would make Frank any different? As it turns out, Frank didn’t own dentures. Nineteen years, no questions. One hour, a million answers. Five memories, none of which seem relevant to what I’ve heard today. I couldn’t help but look around at the people gathered together for the funeral. I didn’t know half of them, but it wasn’t my death. It wasn’t up to me to make the guest list. Tears filled the eyes of many, and those who didn’t cry looked at Frank with admiration and love. One, however, did neither of the two. My word for him: heartless. He sat there, seemingly frozen. He kept a focused gaze at the man in the casket. The dark blue jacket and red pants gave him away as a U.S. soldier. I quickly disregarded his handsome features as I remembered the word heartless. He was dressed similar to the man next to him, only the other man looked capable of emotion. Then, there was Syris. She sat with her long, dark hair behind her shoulders. Her hands rested in the hand of the other soldier, the one with emotion. //Mitch//, I thought. He was her high school sweetheart, the one who had joined the Marines shortly after graduation. I’d heard that he was a good person, but I couldn’t help but feel somewhat spiteful towards him. His departure had led Syris into the hell known as depression. I turned my gaze towards Frank. Out of the very few things that I actually remembered about him, I knew that he always smiled. But, here, there was no smile that graced his face. This wasn’t the face I knew. Even the smell was different. He no longer smelled of fresh ink on paper. He smelled of death. People filed out of the church, but I continued to stare blankly at Frank. It wasn’t until I felt a pinch in my right side that I broke out of my trance. I turned my head quickly to the right and was rather alarmed when the only thing I found there was a dark blue jacket with gold buttons. My eyes slowly wandered up the jacket until they met the serious gaze of the man I had looked at earlier. His bright blue eyes bore into mine, seemingly searching and staring with such intensity that I had to look away. I resumed turning until I found the source of the pinch: my favorite cousin and best friend, Syris. We stayed where we were, looking at each other expectantly. We never hugged. It wasn’t our way. My philosophy: hugs never say what is necessary. People say that actions speak louder than words, but this action says one thing to me: nothing. “So,” she said finally, “I hear your mom made cookies.” I smiled at her remark. Not only because of my mom’s incapability to make anything besides cookies, but because that was my input in the greeting. Why speak when no words are needed? The four of us walked across the small parking lot to where the reception was being held. Despite the noise from the construction site we were walking by, I could clearly hear Syris’ loud laughs from the things Mitch had been whispering in her ear. I extended my neck behind the couple to catch a glimpse of the other guy, who hadn’t spoken at all since I’d first seen him. He seemed determined to get to the small building nearly twenty feet ahead of us. He walked with his back straight and shoulders aligned. His eyes never left his focusing point. As we got nearer and nearer to the building, I could hear the distinct sound of his black shoes against the pavement, one right after the other, never missing a beat. Looking through the glass door, I could see the busy-ness of the room we were about to enter. People stared out the window, watching us walk up the sidewalk. Mitch sped up to hold the door open for the three of us. Syris went in first and turned around, waiting for the rest of us to enter. But I didn’t go in. I merely stood in the doorway and debated whether or not I actually wanted to face the people inside. The answer was a firm, resounding, “no.” However, Syris didn’t give me the option of leaving. Before I even made a move, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the crowded room where I was immediately bombarded with hugs. Left and right, I was being passed around from person to person, receiving hugs from anyone within a five foot radius of me. It only took a matter of seconds for me to somehow be knocked out of the group of emotional women. The same emotional women were now making a huge fuss over Syris and Mitch, saying how cute they were together. While they fired questions at Mitch (and completely ignored his friend, who looked utterly out of place amongst the women who were nearly eight inches shorter than he), Syris made her way over to where I was standing. “When did he get back?” I asked Syris, nodding my head towards Mitch, who was now being “cleaned up” by the women surrounding him, despite the tidiness of his uniform. She looked over at him and smiled. She didn’t reply, but no answer was necessary. To her, it didn’t matter when he arrived. The only important thing was that he did arrive, safely and alive. When it comes to someone fighting in a war, I suppose everyone else hopes that he or she will come back alive. There isn’t a promise, no guarantee in the world. All anyone has at that point is hope. And, if, in that amount of time, someone loses hope, there is nothing. Without hope, there is no faith. Without faith, there is no trust. Without trust, there is no love. To have so much, or have nothing at all; the complexity of it puzzles me and so many others that have tried to understand the tie between the four. I suppose some things should be accepted as a whole, never questioned, never doubted. “Jade!” At the sound of my name, I turned my head in the direction of the call. The strawberry blonde hair immediately caught my attention, and I looked into the face of my cousin, Mimi. “Look at the flowers! These three are me, Syris, and Sebastian, and the shortest one is you!” she said, pointing to the flower that hardly reached the top of the clear vase. “Oh, no! Jade, you’re drowning!” Sebastian yelled while both he and Mimi shoved the shortest flower into the water residing at the bottom of the vase. Mimi sent a cruel smile in my direction as Sebastian giggled. I turned my attention back to Syris, who would normally have laughed and agreed that 5’2” was too short for my own good. I sighed when I saw her gazing lovingly after Mitch. I followed her as she sat down at Mimi and Sebastian’s table. However, her eyes never left Mitch for a moment. Although neither of us particularly cared for Mimi, facing family was all a part of the gatherings. Putting up with the things our family said and did was part of the unwritten contract we agreed to when we were conceived. Enduring Mimi was the hardest part. “Sy,” Mimi started, “do you see those guys over there?” She indicated with her thumb where they would be. The three of us, even though only Syris was spoken to, looked. “No! Don’t look!” I rolled my eyes. Mimi loved being loud and drawing attention to herself. She’d do almost anything to be in the spotlight. It was enough to drive anyone insane. “Didn’t you guys come in with them?” Sebastian asked. Syris nodded, Mimi gaped at her, and I rolled my eyes again. “Are they in the Air Force?” Before Syris or I could answer, Mimi said, “Do you think they drove their plane here?” For the third time in about two minutes, I rolled my eyes. Mimi hadn’t always been like this. It wasn’t until she dyed her hair that she changed. “I don’t know, Mimi. Maybe you should go ask,” I said jokingly. Mimi stood up from her seat and looked towards the back table. Slowly, she pushed out her chair and made her way there. She put all of her weight on one foot and placed her hands on her hips. Both Mitch and his friend looked at Mimi. Mimi started talking. Although we couldn’t hear her, we knew that she asked the question. With Mitch’s back towards us, I couldn’t see his facial expression, but the movement in his back showed that he was laughing at the seventeen-year-old in front of them. The other guy looked at her with amusement. The corners of his mouth tugged upward, producing a small smile. He started talking to her, and we all longed to hear what he was saying. Mimi spun around on her heel and came back towards us, her face a deep shade of red. We held in the laughter that we were dying to release. Sebastian refrained from breathing, Syris had her hand over her mouth, and I stared at the floor, biting my lips. It took every ounce of self-control that we had not to laugh when she sat down. “They didn’t drive their planes here.” She stated quietly. “They don’t even //fly// planes.” She kept her gaze on the empty plate in front of her. The red slowly faded from her cheeks. “What do they do, then?” Sebastian asked, persistent in getting an answer. He had the tendency of sounding like a three-year-old every so often. He never stopped asking questions until he got an answer he was satisfied with. “They’re in the Marines.” Syris answered. Mimi glared at her. “I’m sorry, Mimi. I didn’t think you would actually go over there!” Mimi let out an angry sigh. “Well, I didn’t think you’d let me go!” she yelled. The surrounding tables looked over at us, sending us glares and looks of annoyance. Mimi stared out the window and her anger seemed to disappear. “Didn’t Hope learn how to talk to squirrels? ” she asked. If it wasn’t for the ADD that every member of our family had, our stubbornness would get the better of us. There was laughter; however, it was not from us. It came from the back of the room, from Mitch’s friend. I stared, disbelieving. Syris said that Mitch had been a “goof-ball” and could make anybody laugh, but I never expected to see someone so serious laughing so whole-heartedly. His face shifted from the ceiling, to Mitch, and then to me, sending me a warm, welcoming smile. I didn’t know what to do. I lost myself in the blue eyes that were no longer emotionless. “Aidyn,” Syris said, catching my attention. “What?” I asked confusedly, moving a piece of my auburn hair behind my ear. “Aidyn,” she repeated, “That’s his name.”