Just One Week

Superbowl Sunday,

She’s sitting with her family,

Enjoying the commercials and fellowship,

Texting her newly ex-boyfriend,

Fighting, cursing one another.

The next Sunday,

She’s sitting with her family,

Enjoying praise and worship,

Texting her best friend,

Discussing her birthday party later that night.

Sunday was always a great day,

Until she got that one message,

The message that would wreck her,

The words that would haunt her,

For the rest of her life.

This Sunday was supposed to be good,

She was having her birthday party,

Her 17th birthday to be the next day,

She had been so happy and excited.

This Sunday was ruined,

With one simple message,

“Hey, how is he?”

She was confused,

“We broke up, we haven’t talked since the Superbowl.”

No reply.

“Why?”

“Oh, sweetie. It’s on the news. He’s dead, they’re dead. I’m so sorry.”

Shock, in the middle of worship,

Texting mom,

“What is going on??”

Screenshots being sent to mom,

Who sat just five seats away.

Leaving her on read,

Mom leaves the auditorium.

She checks all of her social media,

The news,

Facebook,

Everything.

“RIP”

Tears fall slowly,

Seemingly in slow motion.

Her sisters sitting beside her notice.

They don’t know what is going on.

Dad texts her,

“What’s going on?”

The screenshots are sent again.

Dad leaves to go find mom.

She cries silently throughout the entire sermon,

And the rest of worship.

At the end,

She wipes her face.

She looks for her confidant,

She sees her.

Her confidant sees her tear stained cheeks,

Pulls her into a hug,

“What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head,

“He’s dead, they’re all dead.”

Her confidant pulls her aside.

She struggles through her tears,

Streaming steadily again,

To explain all that she knows thus far.

They pray.

She leaves the auditorium,

To find her parents,

They’re who she needs right now.

Her mom is with the pastor.

The pastor heads over to her,

He asks to pray with her.

They step to the side,

He prays over her and squeezes her shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.”

Sunday,

It was supposed to be a good day.

Leaving the church,

“Does this change how you feel about him?”

She looks at her dad,

“What do you mean?”

Dad growls,

“He’s a monster!”

Confusion clouds her eyes,

“What do you mean?”

Dad breathes,

“He killed them.”

The tears pour again.

On the ride home,

She calls her confidant,

“Dad told me, he...he killed them!”

She hears a sharp intake of breath,

“Oh, sweetheart...We’re praying for you right now. I’m so sorry.”

The tears choke her,

“I have to go. Thanks…”

This Sunday,

Her birthday party still happened,

It wasn’t as fun.

She had to explain it to her friends,

They helped her through the night.

They watched her favorite movie,

They ate her favorite snacks.

They had to leave early,

A winter storm,

Locked in the house,

With only her tortured thoughts,

“It’s all my fault.”

Today, it’s just passed Sunday,

She still blames herself,

It’s been five years.

Her sister blames her,

Sometimes she imagines her parents do as well,

And most likely his sister too.

She doesn’t know for sure,

But she knows she could’ve tried harder,

To help him.

But she also thinks,

Nothing she could’ve done,

Would have been good enough.

“It’s not completely my fault.”

But it was still,

A short time between their breakup,

Their fight,

And their deaths,

Just One Week.