The alarm clock goes off.

Sitting up, I glance blearily at the wall.

A calendar stares back at me, little crosses on every little box. I walk over and cross off the next one. That’s when I see it.

Is it that day already?

I give the calendar a weary glance and pick up my phone. Flipping it open, I choose a contact and call.

After a few simple words back and forth, I’ve chosen the exact time and place to pick up my brother.

I throw on a tank top, flannel, and jeans. Pretty basic outfit, with a bit of effort.

I grabbed onto a bouquet I’d been preserving and walk out the door.

My brother’s House was a few blocks away, and the cemetery even closer.

Oh well, I suppose I can’t choose every hangout.

As I’m walking to his house, I recall events of the past years.

Glass shattering, it was. I can’t put my finger on it, but something stuck with me.

I knock on the door, and a blur of a 20 year old engulfs me in a large hug.

He’s sobbing now. What a waste of tears.

I’ve told him to stop, I swear by it. He never does.

He keeps crying to me about how if I’m not up for this, I can stay home. Of course I’m not going to do that.

We make our way somberly to a hilltop. Gated by tall, black metal bars. I lay my bouquet down by a small grave.

In my opinion, mother didn’t even deserve this small grave here.

It’s not that I’m angry.

Quite the contrary.

I loved her, I really did. My brother probably more than me. It’s not like she did anything too wrong, but some things that happen in the past you just can’t forget.

I despised her for quite some time, you know.

She would come home drunk often, clinging onto her children like they meant the world to her.

It was a nice thought, loving her children even in such a weak mindset, but it was disgusting. She loved us when she was sober, too. We don’t have it bad, and she was honestly a sweet woman.

I just never could wrap my head around why she would do these things around children. Though, I suppose I’m being dramatic.

She died early, see. The alcohol abuse finally caught up to her one day, and she just collapsed.

Leaving two children to fend for themselves. That is why she doesn’t deserve such a nice resting place. I hope she finds peace, I really do.

A sound occurs next to me. He’s crying again.

I pull him close with an arm, sending a message to a friend of mine with my free hand. I’ll eat well tonight. A little reward for coming here again.

Maybe I’ll bring my brother along, as well.

All I know is today will be a rough day.

Good luck to all out there who have life stories like this.

Not ever story has a true happy ending.