Grace
I couldn't believe it. My dad, the one person I truly loved, was gone.
I couldn't process my emotions.
The minute Taylor and I got home, she put me down on the couch, then her and Tom went to the other room. I was glad, as that meant I didn't have to talk about it. I didn't want to talk about it, at least, not yet.
I sat and cried. I didn't know why I was crying, because I wasn't sure that I felt sad. I wasn't sure that I felt anything.
I was of course was upset that he was gone. But I think maybe I was crying because no one is there when you need them to be. I wasn't crying because he was gone, I was crying because he would never come back. At three years old, that was nearly incomprehensible.
After what seemed like hours, Taylor and Tom came back into the living room. I felt the weights of their bodies sit on the couch with me, but I didn't look up.
"Grace..."'I heard Taylor say quietly. Immediately after hearing her voice, I get anger. I wasn't quite sure why, but I was upset and frustrated with her.
I felt my face heat up, but I still kept it pressed into the pillow.
"I'm so sorry," I heard her say again, in that same, quiet voice.
Maybe it was because she was the one who told me that he was gone, or maybe it was because when I was sad or upset, I would take it out through anger at the people who loved me the most, but whatever the reason, Taylor's voice was the last one I wanted to hear.
I was undeniably angry at her, and at only three years old, I couldn't exactly process why.
"Go away," I mumbled through the pillow.
"What was that, sweetie?" She asked.
"Go away!" I yelled louder as I lifted my head from the pillow to look at her.
She didn't say anything, all she did was display a confused look. Tom's face had the same expression on it.
"Go away!" I screamed again, louder this time. "Go away, go away, go away!"
My face was hot, and I felt my eyes start to sting. I jumped up from the couch and ran out of the room, and then up the stairs and down the hallway to my room. I didn't even care to close the door, I just ran to my bed and continued to cry. I grabbed ahold of one of the various stuffed animals and held it tightly to my heart.
For the first time since I had met Taylor, I wished I was at my house again. I wished that my mom and dad were both home, and I wished that we were all sitting at the dinner table together. Even if my home wasn't the best, I still missed my family. Because no matter how much my mom hurt me, I would always love her. And no matter how much I loved being with Taylor, I would always prefer my father.
After I had a few minutes to calm down, I felt guilty. I still was in shock about my dad, but I was trying to take my mind off of it as much as I could. I felt guilty because as much as I wanted to be mad at Taylor, I had no real reason to.
From the little conversations I'd overheard and from the talks I've had with Taylor and Tom, I knew that Taylor was sensitive. And as much as I didn't really understand what it meant to be sensitive, I knew that it meant she was probably freaking out right then. And I knew that she was probably upset that I had yelled at her, so I decided I needed to make it up to her.
I had some crayons and paper in the corner of my room, so I decided to draw her a picture. I picked up colors and scribbled them across the paper, as I wasn't too good at drawing. My hand couldn't control the crayons as well I wanted it to. Even though I couldn't draw anything beautiful, it took my mind off of things.
I didn't really know how to spell my name, but I knew how to write the letter "G," so on the back of the paper, I signed a big "G" so she knew I made it for her.
I tiptoed out of my room, wiping the last few tears from my eyes as I approached Taylor's door. I heard a few muffled cries, so I assumed she was upset. I felt even worse for making her cry, and I just hoped that she would understand that I didn't mean it.
I slipped the paper under the door, then quickly ran back to my room. I got under my covers and closed my eyes, hugging another stuffed animal. It felt like it was getting late, so I pretended to be asleep.
The door to my room opened at one point, but no one came in or said anything, and then the door closed again. I continued to pretend to fall asleep until I was dreaming for real. That day might have been one of the worsts of my life, but I still managed to fall asleep with a smile on my face.