Ignorant (WATTY AWARDS 2012 ENTRY)

Ignorant

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You were only twelve when you stood in front of your mother's grave after her funeral, not minding being drenched in the cold rain. It was the darkest point in your life and you knew it. Your mother had been the kindest person to you, always caring, always loving, always sweet. You never wanted to replace her. Ever. And when she died, your eyes became gray and dull. They were blank and bland.

You started to tune everything out - your friends, your grades, your family. You couldn't concentrate on anything. Everyone else around you let you be, though, but they never knew that the emptiness would last longer than they first expected. It was like a part of you died. A part of you did die.

When your father married another woman two years later, you despised him. You hated him. You loathed him. You accused him of not loving your mother enough. You accused him of moving on too fast. You accused him of so many things. In the end, you never spoke to him civilly ever again. You only answered his "stupid and pathetic" questions in short curt responses, usually consisting of one syllable, sometimes no syllable at all. You were never really close with your father and his remarriage only fueled the anger you felt for him.

You hated his second woman and refused to view her even as a human, let alone a stand-in mother. You had to admit though, she wasn't all bad. She never tried to replace your mother and she had always been patient with you but you never gave her as much as a second glance. Whenever you came home from school and see them being all sweet to each other, your mood would turn even worse than when you first entered the house. And only god knew how bad your mood swings were, especially when your mother died. You'd slam your bedroom door as loud as you can and when you thought the banging wasn't loud enough, you'd slam it even harder, almost wishing that the door would break off from its hinges and silently hoping that your father would pull out divorce papers that very instant and divorce the wretched witch. But it never came to happen.

Your older sister was the only good thing in your life at the time. She was twelve years your senior and when your mother died, she had already married her husband, your brother - in - law. Your sister was the spitting image of your mother and every time you saw her, a smile would creep up slowly at your face. It would disappear in a blink of an eye though. Still, it kept you satisfied even for a short while. She reminded you of the mother you lost and for you, at that time, it was enough.

Your relationship with your sister turned sour though when she supported your father's second marriage. It took her a long while to accept it but the fact that she did screamed betrayal and it was a slap in your face. You were alone again.

In school, the pain numbed and you concluded that it was better than staying at home and enduring that vixen. After your mother died, most of your friends dispersed and never came back. Only one girl stood by your side through everything.

She was the one who held your hand even when you were too numb to notice it. She was the one who was patient enough to listen to your rants and stay quiet. She was the one who offered you a hug and a pat on the back. She was a constant presence by your side. She was your best friend since you were five and yet, you paid her no attention. She was like a ghost to you and you didn't feel any guilt in thinking this way.

You were seventeen when it happened. Your sister, although now distant to you, was the only thing left for you to cling on. She was your only hope, the only hope to bring back that familiar twinkle in your eyes. She was your last hope. And she died too.

She died of childbirth and you hated your niece for taking her away. You hated her husband even more when he, who you then deemed heartless, remarried. To have both of the most important people in your life pass on to the next and to have them both replaced by men who claimed to love them were too much to bear. You shut them all out.