Nor (Wattpad Featured Story, WriteAffair finalist)

Chapter 3: The English Essay

Homework:

English: Write a one-page essay describing a pivotal moment in your life.

My Mother's Death-Day

A few days ago, I happened to have an interesting conversation with a cousin regarding the anti-thesis of birthdays – death-days. It seems inherent in our culture to celebrate new life, yet few seem to make as much of an occasion over the deaths of loved ones. Perhaps some may deem the idea offensive, but I would think that such loved ones would be touched by the gesture. It's the ultimate remembrance, the ultimate respect.

There is a very serious problem that can arise out of the death-day idea however, and that is conflict. Some family members may feel too strange about the concept, or be resistant to it out of not wanting to be reminded, not wishing to become emotional all over again. This lack of unanimity may draw away from the real focus of a death-day, that is, the person you lost.

In my case, that person is my mother. Or rather, was, perhaps, depending on perspective. Her name was Marissa May Sullivan, maiden name Robinson. Born November 12, 1958, her childhood was one on the move, flitting from state to state following a consultant father. Her mother was a homemaker, and she had one sister, Isabelle. She lives in Australia now. She's married to a self-employed jam-maker, and has two boys, last that I heard.

As a child, my mother was taken to many cultural performances – concerts, plays, musicals. She slowly nurtured a fondness for singing, joining the choir almost all her school life. In her junior year at high school, her group won second place in a state competition. She was also a member of a church choir, but only for a few months – the reason for her leaving is unknown, and I never had a chance to ask my Aunt Isabelle.

My mother did not have a chance to go to college, but had the amazing good fortune to meet with a woman named Rainbow Wong (I kid you not on the name), who helped kick-start her opera career in Kendall City's own Key Theatre. A month into her performances, she was seen by my father, Daniel Sullivan.

My father became an instant fan, appearing at every one of her shows. For years, he remained a detached admirer of her talent, even as the theatre grew old and audiences began to diminish. Ironically, as my mother slowly edged towards being forgotten, my father was growing more and more successful. He gradually was able to afford better and better seats until he was watching Marissa Robinson from the first row. It was the closest he'd ever been to her, but he felt that it wasn't enough.

One night, he approached the theatre staff asking to speak to my mother directly. The staff were not cooperative, but he did not allow that to faze him. He waited outside Key Theatre all night until he saw her come out, and he was finally able to speak to her. They hit it off immediately, and began courting soon after. A year later, they married. He was twenty-four, she was twenty-seven. Her family didn't like that she was devoting herself to a vastly younger man, although they admired his personal success.

My mother gave birth to a girl, me, six years later. I was named Nora after a singer she liked, only I can't remember her exact name. And I can't exactly ask my mother for it, because, after all, she is dead. My father cannot remember it either. After me, my mother never had more children, feeling that she was too old. Because of this, and my father's being kept busy by work, she and I became close. My mother was a simple person, sweet and shy. She was plain, but her voice was stunning. I would know because she sang to me every night until I became a teenager. I was her only fan then, because she had had to give up singing at the Key Theatre as soon as she became pregnant. Even my father had forgotten all about her voice.

She was always patient with me no matter what I did, no matter how rude I was, no matter what kind of stunts I pulled. I didn't appreciate it then, but I do now.

She died last year. Heart failure. My father said to me that she was lucky because at least she didn't suffer long before going, but this blew my top. We quarrelled so badly, I didn't speak to him for two weeks.

It was on October tenth that she died. That's now less than a month away. I know without asking that my father would not want to honor her with a death-day, so I plan to have my own. I've checked, and know that it's a Wednesday (wish it could have been on a weekend), and I've laid out my plan for what to do on that day:

Death-day Plan for 10/10/2007

Go to school. Come , change, drive down to Kendall City Cemetary. No flowers, but clean up any mess that might be to Winger's and order the Wing Dinner Platter and a Vanilla Coke, which was my mother's comfort meal. Will probably need to eat to Key Theatre and watch whatever is playing in Hall 8B, the hall my mother used to sing home. Play Ave Maria in my room, one of the pieces she used to sing. I would have liked to start playing at 8:57 p.m., time of her death, but I don't think the show will finish before then. I'm hoping to make it 9.57 instead. Or 10.57 or 11.57 and so my father nor I pray, but she did, so I'm going to read a bit of the Bible for her. I picked Proverbs .

As I said, I will be carrying out my plan alone. I am not certain if this is a routine that I intend to keep up for years to come. I'll not focus on that right now. I hope all will go to plan on that day, and hope that the death-day concept is something that others may adopt in future.