Losing One but Grieving for Four
A parent should never bury their own child before themselves. My fear has come true as I ready myself with my three other sons to depart on our long journey to our human friend grandmother's farm. I look at the table in my room that held the only things left of my son who gave his life to save his family. Taking his bandana in hand I caressed the holes that showed his eyes. The once flame that was as powerful as the sun was covered by the fresh memory of the glassy fogged eyes that I now see.
A knock at the door told me that it was time to gather the last things of my son and depart. Opening the door I saw one of my sons standing in front trying to hold in the tears that were on the verge to flow over. Gentle I took my son's hand and placed the bandana of his lost brother in his hand and cupped it into my own.
"My son remember your brother will always be with you. Remember all the good times you had with him and even the times you fought but always remember the love you had for each other." I said.
The tears that threaten to fall now flowed down his cheek and onto my fur. My son was trying his hardest to look strong in front of his other siblings but as soon as he started remember all the laughs and joy they had together he started to break down the walls he built and became a small child that once clung and cry his woes to me. I took my son's hand and lead his to the van that was waiting outside for us.
My two other sons were waiting outside the van. But holding each other up they both tried not to remember the events that took their brother's life from us. All my son's looked at me and I nodded, we opened the doors to the van to see the coffin that was holding their brother's cold body inside. We all took a deep breath and entered the van.
Two of my son's took the wheel and passenger seat while I sat with my other sons in back. We were driving to pick up both Mr. Jones and Ms. O'Neil on the way to the farm. Everyone drove in silence but memories of my son's death were too fresh and with each bump in the road and every turn caused the tears that I was trying to hold back to flow down and wet my fur.
With the help of Mr. Jones my sons were able to carry the coffin with their brother's body in it to the large oak tree that stood high and proud.
I was thankful to Mr. Jones who was the one digging the grave for my son while Ms. O'Neil and myself readied the marker. My other sons were saying their last goodbyes to their brother but as time passed none of them wanted to remove themselves from the coffin. With the urge from Ms. O'Neil I was able to get my son's off the coffin and one by one they grasped the handles of the coffin with Mr. Jones and placed it on the platform to lower the coffin into the ground.
This was the last time I would ever see my son besides in my memories. I hate remembering the night where my son gave his life to save us from our nemesis the Shredder. The Shredder's laughter still rung in my ears and slicing sound that took his life. My son's still grieve over the night as it was their own actions that lead to the Shredder finding us and their brother's death. Never once did I blame my son's for his death but I could tell by the circles under their eyes that no matter what I said or did they would still think they were the ones at fault. As they were the ones that took the blade that stole his life from us and sunk it into his heart.
I grieve not for one son but all my sons for the grief and reminder of the Shredder continue to consume and them finally kills them.
As I read the eulogy I look at the faces of everyone that watched me as I finished. There was no dried eyes as we watched the coffin was being lowered into its final resting place. Mr. Jones along with my sons returned the dirt that Mr. Jones dug for the grave and returned it back to the earth. With Ms. O'Neil's help I took the marker from her hands and placed it at the top of the grave.
I pray that my son that is now watching over us to help guide his brothers past this so that they can move on and enjoy life. I look at the grave and marker that now holds the body of my son reading….
Brother, Son, Friend
May 18, 1989 – May 17, 2004
May your soul finally be at peace
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