reflective
...uld have never guessed what had truely happened. Never could I have guessed. Mulling over this on my journey home, I arrived in Ireland. I was told that my plane home, back to Scotland would be the next day. I stepped into my house, unware of grief of the occupates until, creaking open the living room door. My family was there, They sat around my mother. My mother...Her eyes were red, and she was curled up into a foetal position. Her eyes went wide as she saw me standing in the doorway, and slowly like a dam had been broken, her tears resurfaced, flowering from her eyes, to slip silently down her face. I didn't know what to do. I had never seen an adult cry before. What were thoughs tear for? I was terrified, couldn't understand, why. I stepped up to my mother, and held her hand. I asked her what was wrong, why she was crying. She lefted her head towards me, and cried out in a voice I didn't recondise, " Your father is DEAD!!" My eyes widened in horror, no, no I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. This only happened to other people, not me, not this family. I couldn't, wouldn't believe it. "NO!!" I screamed at her. My mother's look become more pained, and she looked away from me, fresh tears coming to her eyes. I left the living room then. I was engulfed in a storm of emotions, many that I was unable to inidetify. I still am not able to understand, even to this day. In my room, I stayed. I sat on my bed for hours, not ...