Because of Him

Echoes of Remberance

Adriana

It had been three years since his passing, and it was time to visit his grave again. He would have been twenty-one. This year would be the first that I visited his grave without Chris' mother since she had moved away. Louise couldn't bear staying in this dreadful town anymore without her son, and I couldn't blame her. Part of me knew that I was the reason for her departure. She told me countless times that it wasn't my fault, but I could see it in her eyes. She tried to mask the anger and hurt, but even a fool could see it.

It was a windy and dreary day. Walking to his tombstone, I felt the auburn leaves crunch under my feet. I brushed off the tombstone, leaving a small camellia flower. Here lies Christian A. Sullivan, a beloved son and best friend. I hurried to wipe my face as a tear trailed down my cheek.

Though I was here alone, it didn't feel like it.

I started to smile as I remember the first time we met. It was the summer before I started middle school. Chris and his mother were making their way around the neighborhood, introducing themselves and handing out Louise's famous peanut butter cookies. My house was their last stop. I was sitting with my mother on the front porch, trying to lift a vase off my pottery wheel. Usually, my mother helped, but I begged her to let me do it. It was my third time trying to make this vase because it had kept collapsing.

Chris and his mother began walking up the steps as I picked up the vase.

"Hello, I am Louise Sullivan, and this is my son Christian. You can call me Louise. We are new to town and just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves," said Louise.

I was trying my best to be careful, but it collapsed again. I was so frustrated as I stared at my once beautiful vase that I began to cry silently. I debated whether I should start again or give up. When I looked up, I saw my mother talking to Louise, but her son was nowhere in sight. I began to wipe my face with my sleeves as I made my way to greet my new neighbor.

Louise was beautiful; she had shoulder-length, straight, dark brown hair.  She was about 5'7; she had a kind face, warm and inviting brown eyes, and a beautiful smile.

My mother was delighted that there was a new neighbor in town, especially someone so kind and close to her age. Louise offered my mother, Kate, the last bit of her peanut butter cookies, and my mother gladly accepted.

"Do you want to stay for a while and chat? I have some freshly squeezed lemonade that I think will go well with these cookies of yours," my mother inquired, with a broad smile on her face.

"Yes, that would be lovely," said Louise as she turned around in search of something or someone.

"Chris honey, where are you," she yelled with a worried look.

"I- I am right here, Mom," he said, running up the porch steps steps out of breath. He seemed to be hiding something behind his back.

"Hi there, Christian. I am Mrs. Stone, you can call me Kate. This is my daughter, Adriana," my mother said while giving him a warm smile.

"Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you both," he said shyly. His cheeks had a slight pink tint as he lowered his head.

When he finally raised his head again, I gave him a small wave. Chris had the same color hair as his mother, but his hair was curly. He was taller than me, just by a couple of inches. And he had a mole below his right eye. His eyes were as brown as his mother's.

"Well, let's have that chat, Louise," my mother motioned for her to enter through the door. Louise nodded before she stopped and looked at Christian. 

"Chris, be nice to Adriana," his mother said with a stern look on her face.

"Yes, Mom," he said, slightly annoyed.

I walked back to my seat.

"What did I possibly do wrong for it to collapse again," I huffed and closed my eyes. After a short while, Chris cleared his throat. I opened my eyes to see him standing right before me.

"Here. Don't look so sad. Practice makes perfect; I am sure you will get it next time," he said as he handed me a camellia flower with a smile etched on his face.

And I did. While our mothers were chatting and Chris was staring intently, I made the vase again. As I made the vase again, Chris and I started learning more about each other. Well, it was more so him asking me questions about why I like pottery.

It was starting to get late, but I wanted to try to move the vase inside before it got dark. I went to pick it up, and it didn't collapse this time. I was so excited, and Chris was too. It was the first artwork that I made without my mother's help. I felt so proud of myself. And if it had not been for Chris, I would've given up like I always did. Letting my mom take over whenever I felt I couldn't do it. He helped me push myself, and that meant the world to me.

I felt myself start to break down again for the twentieth time today. I missed him so much and I wish he were here. I wished that night had never happened. I wished I never called for help. I wished that it was me.