What happened to Ashton Vienna Reilly?

Why?

It is a question we all ask ourselves when we don't understand, or simply do not want to understand.

This was the question that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself from asking.

I asked over the seemingly short weekend:

Why do I have all this homework? All these projects? Why does school take over my life? Why do must I go to this training? Why must I help work at the stupid clinic?

I felt that my troubles were the worst just because a typical teenager like me can't help but be self-absorbed. Why would someone steal our car? I don't know. Nobody can have all the answers. Why did he have to die? I don't know. Not even I can have all the answers.

It happened on a Monday morning, on the 27th of September. My grandfather, one of the few who has loved me every second since the moment I was granted life, died. Soon all that will be left of him is a pile of black, lifeless ashes. But those ashes are not him. Dark, sad, and lifeless is not what he was or stood for. He was not perfect, but perfect does not exist in a world of humans. I could take you through every step of my mourning and eventual healing, but nobody needs another sob story. This will be a story of my life, a diary of sorts, starting with the moment that I felt the most pain and passion that I believed to only be felt in fictional stories.

I woke up at 6:15 in the morning to the sound of my alarm, instantly feeling my headache return after two days of stressing about school.

I tricked myself into thinking that I had been awake already when my alarm went off, so I needed to sleep for a little bit longer. I woke up again at 6:30 to shower and prepare for the rest of the day. After I got dressed I checked the clock, which read 6:58. I felt that number was uneven so I decided to read for 2 minutes until the clock hit 7. As I closed the book and walked into my bathroom to dry my long, brown hair, my mother walked in with an expression that did not match her usual hectic, morning look. For the first time in a while, she looked genuinely upset. All she said was, "Come in my room with your sister. I have something to tell you". Honestly, the first thing that came to mind was that my parents were officially deciding to get a divorce instead of prolong their separation, but why would she feel the need to tell us at 7 in the morning when my dad isn't even in town. In fact, he's with his family in Los Angeles. As I entered her room I noticed her phone on her dresser. It was lit up and the screen displayed my aunt Tracy's - who lives in Los Angeles - contact information. I knew what this meant. Tracy had called her about something important this morning. Something so major that it had nearly reduced my mother to tears already.

"No" I whispered quietly to myself. I knew what she was going to say before the words even formed on her lips. I had no thoughts flowing through my mind at that moment, it was just blank. Time did not stop as I would have wished, it moved on. I wasn't really even listening to what she said when she said it, but I knew that he was gone. I plunged my face into the crook of my sister's neck moments before I faintly heard those words that affected me so.

"I'm sorry. Papa passed away last night".

Of course at that point I was already crying. Not all out sobbing because I have never sobbed in my life, but I'm not superhuman and I have a heart.

I deserve the right to cry. The news had wrenched at the sinews of my soul, but I would not let them tear. I would not snap. I would mourn, but hysterically crying would only make it worse for everyone else. I tried to keep it together, keep us together. I hugged my mom and soothed my sister, but I still felt sick to my stomach.

Now was finally the time that I really felt sick to my stomach. I had never thought that your emotions could actually turn into a physical ailment, but they had. My vision was blurred, my head throbbed for different reasons than before, my body ached, my face had swelled, and I could barely breathe. I looked in the mirror at my reddened face and saw him in the mirror. After all, I was the one in the family that resembled him most. Over six feet tall and skinny with dark hair and dark eyes. I was the one that would play college sports just like he did. I lost it a little when I thought about how much I resembled him. When my sanity finally returned, thoughts raced through my mind about what I could have done. I would have seen him in a month when he came to my volleyball tournament in Santa Barbara. I would have seen him a month after that when we came to visit for Thanksgiving. Now the upcoming Thanksgiving would be remembered as the first one without Papa. Thoughts of sadness, loss, mourning, concern, bewilderment, anger, and even a little bit of happiness for him. He had been loved all his life and he would never suffer again. He was finally at peace and the least I could do was pray that God would take care of a good man like him.

Out of love, I tried to think of what he would want us to do. I did not forget about him and the last picture I had of him in my mind. I thought about things to keep my mind off the tragedy. I mean, he was definitely sick for a long time and we all saw it coming someday soon, but we were not prepared for it to happen so suddenly. Shit. I couldn't keep my mind off it! I forced myself to think of the trip to Duke next weekend where I could enjoy myself for 3 days at a real college. The volleyball coach had offered me a full ride scholarship there over the summer, but being a junior in high school, I was not ready to make such a major decision about my future just yet. I thought about what I would wear to the ceremony. It then dawned on me that I would most likely be forced to cancel the trip to go to Los Angeles and be with the rest of my family for his funeral.

My body was in so much pain being filled with stress, sadness, and confusion that it just felt like it was about to spontaneously combust. I couldn't help but wonder if he was always in more pain than I was when he was sick. I did what I always do when I am stressed and need to relax.

I lit my candles in my room. I let the scent of Caribbean Escape wash over me as I imagined that I could escape to the Caribbean. I opened my eyes and watched the flame dance and flicker. I had lit three and the smallest one was almost out. It flickered and within a few minutes it finally went out.

I must have been feeling more sensitive today after the news because I felt tears sting at my eyes as I watched the smoke rise. I closed the lid on the candle and flipped it over.

On the bottom I wrote in sharpie:

Charles Stephen Sklar

9/27/10

you will forever be in our hearts