tell she has heard every word because tears flow down
her cheeks. “Where are my keys?”
“In your car,” she whispers.
“Jay, are you okay to drive. Maybe I can call someone for you?”
“I’m just taking a drive,
Mom. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Still shaking, I walk into
the garage. My mind races, and my thoughts swirl around my father. He just
doesn’t understand. He will never understand the violation and the shame. It’s
not just what that beast did; it’s what I did to myself -- what I allowed. In a
desperate effort to feel something, anything, again, I made my body my slave
and forced it into being used. Living with such dark secrets changes people,
blackens the soul, and corrupts the way the mind thinks. It did all those
things to me, and my father will never get that. I’ve been aged by
circumstances, drug through life unwillingly, and had my innocence maliciously
destroyed forever.
I get in my car and press
the garage door opener, letting light increasingly stream into the dark room. I
pull out and drive away. I don’t know where I’m going; I don’t care. I just
need to go. Rolling down my windows, I can’t believe how warm it is. I
definitely don’t need the jacket with the jeans, white tee, and light grey
sweater I put on this morning. I don’t think about a destination, but
subconsciously, I know where I’m not going. I’m not ready to go there. That
intersection was a crossroad in my life, and I don’t think I can handle that
yet. My heart feels a sudden pull, and I instantly know where I need to go.
Whipping the car around, I race to the edge of town.
The entrance looms with
heavy black metal. I read the inscription overhead as I drive through the
gates, “Jackson Heights Cemetery”. The rolling green hills are covered with
tombstones and statues and dotted with flowers. I pick up my phone and call
Molly; she answers on the first ring.
“Where exactly is JT’s
grave?” Her silence conveys her surprise, but she answers with detailed
directions. I hang up the phone before she can comment and power it down.
I drive towards the back
where several large pine trees are nestled together beside a pond. I put my car
in park as the first sobs break through. My chest shakes with cries of anguish.
Pressing my fingertips to my eyes, I try to dam the tears, but it doesn’t work.
I don’t even know if I can get out of the car. Why did I come here? Why did he
die? Why God? WHY? I’m falling apart, barely breathing as the pain steals my
breaths. God, do I hurt. I finally allow myself to mourn him.
Laying my head back against
the seat, I let the tears fall. “Oh my God, JT. Why? Why did you leave me?” I
ask aloud. I open my eyes and stare out the windshield. Standing between the
tallest two trees is a single granite headstone. Well, I’ve come this far. So
taking one last deep breath, I reach for the door handle and step out of the
car.
A strong gust of wind whips
my hair about as the sun shines down through the trees. One foot in front of
the other, I walk to his final resting place. The crunch of dried pine needles
beneath me is the only sound I hear. My heart pounds, but I can’t stop now.
The shiny grey stone gleams
with the sun’s reflection. Coming to a stop in front of it, I read the words
etched into the rock.
JT Miles Higgins
Always In Our Hearts
1994 - 2012
Falling to my knees, I allow
my fingers to trace the letters one-by-one. A dozen red roses lie at the base.
Withered and dying, the petals have begun to darken and curl. A burst of pain
explodes from my chest. My hands go to my heart in an effort to stop it from
shattering. Again, tears drop one after another as I whisper over and over,
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I don’t understand why he was taken from me. I want
answers. I want to know why. I hate this world. I hate this life. The thoughts
come to me about how much I want to die so I can see JT again.
Nausea makes my stomach roll,
and
her cheeks. “Where are my keys?”
“In your car,” she whispers.
“Jay, are you okay to drive. Maybe I can call someone for you?”
“I’m just taking a drive,
Mom. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Still shaking, I walk into
the garage. My mind races, and my thoughts swirl around my father. He just
doesn’t understand. He will never understand the violation and the shame. It’s
not just what that beast did; it’s what I did to myself -- what I allowed. In a
desperate effort to feel something, anything, again, I made my body my slave
and forced it into being used. Living with such dark secrets changes people,
blackens the soul, and corrupts the way the mind thinks. It did all those
things to me, and my father will never get that. I’ve been aged by
circumstances, drug through life unwillingly, and had my innocence maliciously
destroyed forever.
I get in my car and press
the garage door opener, letting light increasingly stream into the dark room. I
pull out and drive away. I don’t know where I’m going; I don’t care. I just
need to go. Rolling down my windows, I can’t believe how warm it is. I
definitely don’t need the jacket with the jeans, white tee, and light grey
sweater I put on this morning. I don’t think about a destination, but
subconsciously, I know where I’m not going. I’m not ready to go there. That
intersection was a crossroad in my life, and I don’t think I can handle that
yet. My heart feels a sudden pull, and I instantly know where I need to go.
Whipping the car around, I race to the edge of town.
The entrance looms with
heavy black metal. I read the inscription overhead as I drive through the
gates, “Jackson Heights Cemetery”. The rolling green hills are covered with
tombstones and statues and dotted with flowers. I pick up my phone and call
Molly; she answers on the first ring.
“Where exactly is JT’s
grave?” Her silence conveys her surprise, but she answers with detailed
directions. I hang up the phone before she can comment and power it down.
I drive towards the back
where several large pine trees are nestled together beside a pond. I put my car
in park as the first sobs break through. My chest shakes with cries of anguish.
Pressing my fingertips to my eyes, I try to dam the tears, but it doesn’t work.
I don’t even know if I can get out of the car. Why did I come here? Why did he
die? Why God? WHY? I’m falling apart, barely breathing as the pain steals my
breaths. God, do I hurt. I finally allow myself to mourn him.
Laying my head back against
the seat, I let the tears fall. “Oh my God, JT. Why? Why did you leave me?” I
ask aloud. I open my eyes and stare out the windshield. Standing between the
tallest two trees is a single granite headstone. Well, I’ve come this far. So
taking one last deep breath, I reach for the door handle and step out of the
car.
A strong gust of wind whips
my hair about as the sun shines down through the trees. One foot in front of
the other, I walk to his final resting place. The crunch of dried pine needles
beneath me is the only sound I hear. My heart pounds, but I can’t stop now.
The shiny grey stone gleams
with the sun’s reflection. Coming to a stop in front of it, I read the words
etched into the rock.
JT Miles Higgins
Always In Our Hearts
1994 - 2012
Falling to my knees, I allow
my fingers to trace the letters one-by-one. A dozen red roses lie at the base.
Withered and dying, the petals have begun to darken and curl. A burst of pain
explodes from my chest. My hands go to my heart in an effort to stop it from
shattering. Again, tears drop one after another as I whisper over and over,
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I don’t understand why he was taken from me. I want
answers. I want to know why. I hate this world. I hate this life. The thoughts
come to me about how much I want to die so I can see JT again.
Nausea makes my stomach roll,
and
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