Surviving Loss: A Tale of Grief and Loneliness

The weather is perfect, just like the day my parents died. Given, it was always sunny on the beaches of Los Angeles. It was a car accident. The driver who crashed into us was intoxicated so his car hit us head on. He is still alive to this day and got away with it, but is currently serving six months in prison due to the recent illegal drug deals. Anyway, both my parents were killed and sometimes, I wish that I would have died in that car accident, too. The things your brain does when it has experienced death and pain. The loneliness alone is enough to make you crazy. Sure, I had friends and so called “family” to help with the pain, but none of them knew what I was going through. None of them understood that deranged loneliness was, in fact,

lovely to me.
I was on my way to see the man who potentially killed my parents. He sent me a letter stating he needed to speak with me. I have only ever spoken to him once, and that was at my parents funeral. I accepted his invitation. The prisonhouse was in the middle of Nevada, just fifteen miles away from my previous location.
When I arrived, it looked as the prison was under top security. It looked like one of the places where you’d keep murderers. I walked in the door labeled “Visiting” strode up to the muscular man behind the desk. “Can I help you?” He said, looking annoyed.
“I’m here to see Andrew McCrady,” I responded, “He requested I speak with him.” All the man did was huff and roll his eyes.

“Right this way,” He said after a moment of silence. When he stood up, he was taller than I expected, at least six feet and eleven inches tall. He had to duck when he walked through the door to the right of me. I followed, just like he said to, and kept quiet.

We passed many doors, I counted thirteen, but after that, I lost count. We finally came to a room with a paper “Andrew M.” tapped onto the middle of the door. The tall man opened the door and then I saw him; Andrew. My mind was racing. All I wanted to do was punch him and run. He was responsible for my parents and he didn’t care.

When he saw me he smiled. He looked stoned. I concealed my anger and strode to the chair that was placed across from him. I sat down and immediately asked him why I was here. All he did was smile and say he wanted my company. I knew that was bull crap. The tall man then walked out of the room. He was probably going to watch us from a distance, probably not wanting to invade our space.

“What is the real reason why I’m here?” I asked him, already getting frustrated.

“ I simply want your company,” He responded with a smirk slapped on his

face.
“Cut the crap,” I said firmly, “Why am I here?”
“I need money,” He said, “Only five hundred thousand. Thats enough to get me out of here.” This made me furious.
“No. If you need money, then you shouldn’t have blown it all on drugs. And I’ve checked the release fee, it’s only two thousand dollars,” Now I couldn’t stop myself from yelling at him, “And I don’t want you wandering the streets! Not after you wrecked my life and took my happiness!”
He started, “But-”. I cut him off, “No.”
I stood up and marched out the door. No way he would be getting anything from me. Not after what he did.